My Cold-Hearted Husband Wants Me Back
Chapter 168: She’s Drunk

Chapter 168: She’s Drunk

Lunara was half-awake when the suite door closed behind them. Warmth enveloped her as she was gently carried inside, the low thud of Eryx’s shoes echoing softly through the quiet space.

She stirred in his arms, blinking slowly as the light from the hallway disappeared. Her head tilted back lazily, eyes half-lidded and unfocused. Then she frowned, her pout forming in the most exaggerated, cartoonish way.

"Oh! Aren’t you my husband?" she slurred.

Before Eryx could react, her fingers shot up and pinched his cheek hard.

He winced. "Ow—Lunara!"

"Just making sure," she mumbled, her expression dead serious for a moment. "Could be a dream. Or a body double." Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Hmm... You’re kinda too tall to be fake though."

Eryx shook his head, carrying her deeper into the suite with long, steady strides. "You’re drunk."

"Mhm," she hummed proudly. "And you’re handsome. A dangerous combo."

He tried to keep a straight face, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

She squinted at him, then leaned in dramatically, her lips brushing the edge of his jaw. "I should sue you. For being this attractive. Emotional damage."

Eryx let out a quiet laugh, the deep kind that rumbled low in his chest. "You’re going to forget all of this tomorrow, aren’t you?"

"Never," she said, far too seriously for someone halfway asleep. "I’m etching this moment into my soul."

"You can’t even walk straight."

"I don’t need to walk straight when you’re carrying me like some dark prince in a romance novel," she said, throwing an arm lazily around his neck. "Also, your shoulders are really comfy."

"You’re really drunk," he muttered, but his voice was soft. Too soft for someone pretending not to be affected.

Lunara peeked up at him again, her fingers gently brushing his cheek from where she cradled his face. "You were gone," she murmured. "And I didn’t like that. So I came to bring you back. Because you’re mine."

He stopped in his tracks, heart suddenly caught in the space between her words. She was already fading again, her lashes fluttering shut like falling leaves.

He stood still for a long moment, the weight of her resting against him matched only by the weight of her words. In the hush of the suite, where only the soft hum of the city below reached them, Eryx looked down at her peaceful, drowsy face.

His jaw tensed.

"You shouldn’t be drinking," he murmured, almost to himself. "It hasn’t even been a month yet..."¹

His voice was quiet, strained around the edges.

He adjusted his hold on her gently, careful not to wake her. "Reckless as ever," he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. "What am I supposed to do with you?"

But even then, his arms didn’t let her go.

Eryx lowered her carefully onto the bed, trying not to wake her fully but her arms, still looped stubbornly around his neck, refused to let go.

"Lunara," he murmured, attempting to ease her fingers apart.

But she gave a sleepy, tipsy pout, and with a soft tug, pulled him closer.

He didn’t expect it, the way her strength caught him off guard, how off-balance he was with emotion already and the next thing he knew, he stumbled forward slightly, his lips brushing hers.

It was light, unintentional, but it made him freeze.

Her eyes fluttered open just a bit, still glazed, her smile lazy. "Mhm... see? Definitely my husband," she mumbled.

Eryx stayed there, inches above her, staring down at her face. She looked soft in the low light. Vulnerable. Safe, for once.

He pulled back slowly, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek and whispering, "Sleep, Lunara."

This time, her hands loosened. But her lips moved, murmuring something too soft to catch.

Eryx leaned in, his brows drawing together as he tried to hear.

"I didn’t plan this," she mumbled, barely coherent. "I’m not drunk... not like before... don’t give me your card and tell me to go away..."

The words came out tangled, foggy from the wine, but he understood enough.

His expression shifted as the memory was sharp in his chest now. That night a few months ago, when he hadn’t recognized her... when he’d thought the worst.

Eryx closed his eyes for a moment, guilt washing over him in a wave.

"You’re not going anywhere," he said quietly, more to himself than her, brushing his thumb gently against her knuckles.

He lingered for a moment, just watching her. Her brows twitched like she was still half in a dream, lips parted slightly, the scent of wine lingering between them. Guilt knotted tightly in his chest, too tightly.

What the hell was he doing?

Eryx stood up abruptly, his jaw locked. He walked out of the bedroom and headed straight for the bathroom, each step sharp and fast. The moment he stepped inside, he turned on the tap and splashed cold water on his face. Again smf again. As if that could wash away the memory of her slurred words, or the look in her eyes when she said, ’don’t give me your card and tell me to go away.’

"I was such a bastard," he muttered, gripping the edge of the sink, water dripping from his chin. His reflection stared back at him, unreadable.

A knock echoed through the suite.

"Hot," a voice called out softly, then followed by a louder, "It’s hot."

His head snapped up.

He yanked open the door and stepped out.

Only to find Lunara in front of the bathroom’s door, barefoot, one arm already shrugging out of her blouse, clearly intending to get her body to "cool off." Her cheeks were flushed, hair messy from sleep, and she looked very much like someone ready to undress right at that moment.

"Lunara—" he rushed forward, alarm shooting through him.

"Too warm," she whined, fingers fumbling with the next button.

He grabbed her wrists before she could go any further. "Okay. That’s enough wine for a year."