As Mikhail pushed through the sliding glass doors, the antiseptic along with the scent of disinfectants, rushed in a hush, entangling, and carefully enveloping both Athena and Mikhail. The doctors were engaged in deep and serious conversations as they swiftly moved. Their white coats fluttered as they hurried down the corridor. When Mikhail entered the hall, he seemed to tower over everyone else with his lofty presence and height, exuding authority. Those who caught sight of him forgot about their surroundings as if they were lost in his deific appearance. When Mikhail gazed at them raising his eyebrows, with an ominously celestial smirk, they resumed their tasks in a hurry, driven by their fear.

Athena followed him quietly as Mikhail strode forward like a runway model, pretending as though she didn't know him. Mikhail, after  walking some distance, turned back suddenly to see Athena. She hurried toward him, treating him as if he was her superior, resolute not to provoke him. Mikhail stood there, observing Athena as she rushed, with a smile playing on his lips.

"You took your sweet time, my wife." Mikhail whispered, leaning toward her right ear. In that fleeting moment, Athena's head snapped upward, colliding with Mikhail's chiseled chin. The unexpected intimacy caught her off guard, kicking in her instincts heavily. For that split second, he was stunned, sensing a soft pain on his chin. But Athena was the most surprised; her eyes wide opened, witnessed the blood trickling from his nose. His eyes mirrored her shock. He took a deep breath. Sighing, he wondered how life had led him to this point.

Athena stood there horrified, gazing at the crimson droplet that was still clinging on to Mikhail's nose. Athena pulled out a handkerchief from her pocket, holding onto her will, unable to hide her anxiety. She slowly wiped the blood. He watched her, and gazed at her pure white handkerchief and viewed, fresh and gleaming crimson liquid on it. He smiled gently, looking at the handkerchief and then gazed at Athena who was anxious, "It has been a long time since I saw my own blood, honey." Mikhail said with an excitement, refreshing his face. His eyes sparkled beautifully like the sky on a sunny day. Athena was terrified, thinking, if the sight of his own blood had driven him insane.

Athena grazed the handkerchief against his nose, wiping off the remaining blood. Athena looked at him, perplexed. "You're bleeding?" She asked. Mikhail laughed; his tone drenched in irony. "Did you think, I wouldn't bleed if I got hit by your strong head, my wife?" Athena's face flushed as she saw through the sarcasm hidden behind the veil of his words. His gaze swept away her thoughts, as he stared at her as if there wasn't anything that was divine enough to catch his attention. "I have to admit it, my wife; you've quite a strong head." Mikhail uttered with a chuckle.

Athena's face reddened with embarrassment as she looked at him. His eyes held a gentleness, yet his voice contained a mischievously dark undertone. Athena was sure that he had felt some kind of affection toward her, but she didn't know what to label it. Athena was sure Mikhail would play with her until he would become tired of her. She had been mentally preparing herself to not fall too deeply for him, knowing the outcome very well.

Her stream of thoughts was disrupted by Mikhail's husky voice, "You know what? even though I enjoy a good fight, I hate it when people aim for my face. Well, honey, congratulations — you've landed the first hit on my face all on your own."

Athena looked at him, dumbfounded. Mikhail was actually very enthusiastic as he spoke. It was as if he wasn't angry but rather pleased that Athena had handed him her handkerchief or was it because, he'd taken a hit after a long time? Athena wondered, tangling with his emotional imbalances.

He was very simple and naïve when it came to love and relationships. Even if he had a notoriety appearance in the social world, he was still someone who believed in a relationship built on mutual trust. Mikhail always believed that a relationship would only become successful if his lifelong partner was comfortable around him and had faith in him, unlike how he dealt with his business partners.

 Mikhail grabbed Athena's hand slowly and pulled her toward him, she quickly pushed him away sensing the eyes on them. Mikhail gazed at Athena with a visible longing in his eyes, as if he wanted her to remain with him forever whatever happened, unaware of what Athena truly felt about him. He just wanted to be the only man in her life, the one who she could trust with all her heart. He wanted her to accept herself as Athena Cassius rather than Athena Everhart. His emotions were far more intricate than any problems he'd ever dealt with in his life. He had never spoken to her about his honest feelings in a way Athena could believe. Yet, he wanted her to love him while keeping his heart shut. The true mastery of emotional understanding was still a long way from him as if he had to struggle in his love life as his karma.