The Billionaire's Marriage Offer

Digging Up the Dirt

A cold silence pervaded between them.

Miya glared at him, whereas Jim watched her carefully. There was a wild flicker in her eyes, and a thousand emotions crossed her face right then. There was anger, undoubtedly, a hint of sadness and a lot of desperation in that look. She disguised it well, but he could see through it all.

He had touched a fragile nerve.

She looked away, her fists clenched, her back still quivering. She refused to pursue the matter, but her decision had been faltered. She walked away.

Jim scowled.

He had initially thought it must have been a simple issue concerning the social welfare group she was a member of. That maybe, she was so poor at parenting they were forcing her to give up the kid. From the look of it though, the matter ran deeper.

Jim took out his phone and sent a quick text to Park. He then walked out after her.

For the first time since the events of the morning, Jim noticed his surroundings. Her apartment consisted of one shabby room, an even shabbier kitchen and there was another door to his left, which he assumed must be the washroom. The room had almost nothing in it, except a tattered bed and a chair. There were three brooms lying on one side, and one wall had several shelves dug into it.

The place was dingy enough to make his eyes hurt. He couldn't observe any further. So, instead, he concentrated on the lady.

She had again picked up the pieces of rope that she had earlier dumped on the bed. She walked to the shelved wall, and discarded them there. Her face was neutral now, but her back still quivered.

Just how serious was this matter about her kid?

Jimmy contemplated his next move, and decided not to strike till he heard from Park. Until then though, he needed to buy some time.

Almost in response, the foul odour of his own body reached his nose, which he hadn't really noticed until now. He grimaced, realizing he was still dirty from the incident before. But now, he had an excuse. He coughed.

Miya didn't look at him.

"I'll need someplace to clean up," he whispered softly.

This took her by surprise. Her first instinct was to ask him why he wasn't leaving. But he would argue to that. And right now, she couldn't look at him.

"The bathroom is there." She jerked her head towards the other door in the room.

"And I'll need a change of clothes," Jim said, in the same quiet whisper.

Miya began to pull out a shirt from one of the shelves indifferently. Jim nearly jumped out of his skin at her act.

"I-I can't wear a girl's clothes," he protested, struggling to keep the calm in his voice.

"It's a shirt," she shot back.

"That you wore," he replied.

She still didn't look at him. Jim took out his wallet – it was damp.

"Would you get me something from the market?"

Miya didn't answer. Jim sighed. Talking to her back was getting kind of frustrating.

"Miya," he said resignedly, trying to reason with her again, "I'm just someone who came to you with a proposal, and got trashed at your hands instead. It's your right to refuse to the offer, I respect that. But this foul condition I'm in was also uncalled for, on your part. Would you still not help me?"

Miya's throat tightened at that.

It was her fault, she knew that much. And had she not hit him, she wouldn't have to bear with his presence in her house for this long.