Despite the emotional barrier imposed by his glasses, the sharpness in his gaze was still obvious.

This interplay of coldness and gentleness was inexplicably seductive.

It prompted Claudia to involuntarily swallow.

"Yes." Observing her reaction, Bennett smiled and inquired, “Are you hungry?"

Avoiding eye contact, she replied, “Not yet."

“I have a headache." His eyes lingered on her. “Perhaps you can indulge me in a massage."

Blushing with embarrassment, Claudia noted that it was still only half-past eleven, surmising that Marcia had likely not prepared lunch yet. She directed him to the nearby sofa, saying, "Then sit down."

Bennett took off his glasses and put them on the table in front of him. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

She knew he did it on purpose, she replied with equal deliberation.

Then she kneeled beside him on the couch and began to massage his temples.

Silence enveloped the room, with only the rustle of the wind against the curtains breaking the quietude. Claudia massaged his head as carefully as she could.

Her fingers grew somewhat sore after twenty minutes of dedicated effort. Fatigue settling in, she slumped on the sofa. "Does it still hurt?"

If his pain persisted, he had to go to the hospital.

“No, it doesn't hurt anymore."

He opened his eyes, took her hand, and massaged her finger joints.

As comfort permeated the moment, Claudia sat still and relaxed against the sofa. Seeing him knead her fingers, a fond smile played on her lips.

"Bennett." She called him softly.

Hearing her voice, the man's gaze lifted to meet hers, and he asked, “Does it hurt?"

She shook her head, smiling. “When we just got married, you mentioned having a headache then. Was that true?"

"I've never lied to you," Bennett asserted.

"Really?" Claudia raised an eyebrow, skeptical.

He remained silent, his gaze fixed on her.

Claudia blinked, processing his response. "I see."