Chapter 170

Chapter 170
Olivia's POV

I'd been walking around campus like a zombie these days. My body was there, but my mind was somewhere else entirely—floating in that hazy space between exhaustion and alertness.

"Are you coming down with something?" Josie asked as we walked toward the campus gates after our afternoon class ended.

I let out a heavy sigh, my voice barely energetic enough to form words. "Couldn't sleep last night. Not a wink. I'm completely wiped out."

"Your insomnia seems to come and go," Josie observed, studying my face with concern. "Is it the pressure of being back at school?"

"With my personality?" I scoffed. "You really think I'd lose sleep over returning to campus?"

Josie considered this for a moment before shaking her head. "No... that doesn't sound like you."

I leaned against the railing, tilting my head back as I stared at the clear blue sky. "This feels exactly like when I couldn't sleep during my pregnancy with Avery."

"Why don't you try going back to Maxwell's study?" Josie suggested, ever practical. "It worked before, right? Like some magical sleep chamber."

I bit my lip, staring out at the sunlight filtering through the trees. The solution seemed so simple yet so complicated at the same time.

After Josie was picked up by Dylan's car, I climbed into my own waiting car and headed home. The driver maintained a respectful silence as I stared out the window, lost in thought.

---

Maxwell was unusually late coming home. By eight in the evening, the house was still quiet, with no sign of him.

After putting Avery to bed, I retreated to my own room, where I faced the same problem as the night before—tossing and turning with absolutely no hint of drowsiness. My mind raced with jumbled thoughts that made my head throb.

I'd played his recording so many times it didn't work anymore. I needed the live meeting sounds to feel at peace.

By ten o'clock, my patience had completely evaporated. Checking my phone one last time, I threw back the covers and padded into the hallway.

A sliver of light spilled from Maxwell's study where the door was slightly ajar. The low murmur of his voice on a phone call drifted out. I stood outside, hesitating.

After several moments of internal debate, I finally knocked.

The voice inside went silent. Seconds later, the door opened wider, and Maxwell appeared, his dark eyes finding mine.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

I felt suddenly awkward. After giving birth to Avery, I wasn't sure if I could still take advantage of the sleep-inducing powers of his study as I had during my pregnancy.

"Are you... having a meeting tonight?" I asked tentatively, my confidence wavering. "Would it be okay if I stayed for a while?"

Maxwell studied me, his expression unreadable in the dim light of the hallway.

My fingers nervously twisted the hem of my nightshirt as I waited for his response.

"Having trouble sleeping again?" he finally asked, his voice neutral.

I nodded silently, still fidgeting.

"Come in," he said, stepping aside to let me enter, just as he had during my pregnancy.

Relief washed over me as I quickly slipped past him into the familiar space.

Five minutes later, the meeting began. As the familiar cadence of French business negotiations filled the room, I felt my eyelids growing heavy. The sleepiness that had eluded me for hours suddenly descended like a fog, enveloping my consciousness.

---

When I next opened my eyes, the clock on the wall showed just past seven in the morning.

Still groggy, I sat up in bed—my own bed—trying to piece together how I'd gotten here after falling asleep in Maxwell's study. The realization that he must have carried me back made me press my fingers against my temples, which were throbbing slightly from deep sleep.

After splashing cold water on my face in the bathroom, I headed downstairs, my mind clearer. Maxwell was still home, which surprised me since he usually left early for the office.

I paused briefly on the stairs before continuing down to thank him for bringing me to my room last night.

Maxwell had just finished giving instructions to Andrew about a bidding project from last night's online meeting.

When he heard my thanks, he turned slightly toward me, his expression neutral. "No need to thank me," he said evenly. "Our contract hasn't expired yet, and our marriage still exists in name. These small gestures are expected."

Since our elaborate wedding ceremony earlier in the year, I'd rarely heard Maxwell mention our "contract." During most of my middle and late pregnancy, and even after Avery's birth, our interactions had resembled those of a normal married couple.

There had even been moments throughout the past year when I'd experienced fleeting illusions that the contract didn't exist at all.

But now, hearing the word "contract" again after so long, I was suddenly jarred back to reality. Those momentary illusions had been just that—illusions.

I couldn't quite identify the feeling that washed over me. The rest of my thank-you died on my lips, replaced by a different question altogether:

"When the contract expires, who gets custody of the baby?"

Maxwell stood by the entryway, his movements stilling at my question. Morning light streamed through the glass columns in the courtyard, illuminating half his face.

From where I stood, I couldn't make out his expression, only hear his characteristically calm voice:

"If you want Avery, he'll go with you. If you don't, he'll stay with me."

An expected silence spread through the great hall.

I couldn't describe what I was feeling at that moment. There was just a heaviness in my chest that hadn't been there before.

Maxwell didn't linger. With Andrew and Ryan waiting outside and meetings scheduled at the company, he quickly departed after seeing I had no further questions.

I remained standing there, that inexplicable pressure building in my chest.

An uncomfortable sensation, like emotions piling up with nowhere to go.

Making me irritable for no apparent reason.

Martha approached tentatively, asking what I'd like for breakfast.

I struggled to control the negative emotions that had no clear source, determined not to take them out on her. "I'm not hungry. Don't worry about me, Martha. I have an early class—I'm heading to campus."

Avery was still asleep. Martha stood uncertainly in the great hall, watching as both husband and wife departed one after the other, concerned but powerless to intervene.

---

That entire day, I was haunted by our morning conversation.

A restlessness circled inside my chest, making it difficult to focus on anything.

My classes ended at four, but for the first time, I didn't want to go home so early. After calling the nanny to check on Avery, instead of taking the car back, I headed to the library—trying to drown my unsettled feelings in books, just as Josie did when she was troubled.

By the time I returned to The Willows, darkness had fallen.

Maxwell wasn't home yet. Avery had been well-behaved today, barely crying at all. After spending some time with my little one, I put him to bed around nine and tiptoed back to my room.

These past few days, my sleep schedule had returned to what it was during pregnancy, thanks to Maxwell's study.

His online meetings followed a predictable pattern—always starting between 8:30 and 9:00 PM.

A brief stay in his study would make me drowsy, and by around nine, I'd typically be sound asleep.

But tonight, after this morning's conversation, I strangely didn't want to go to his study.

As he'd pointed out, our marriage was destined to end according to the contract's terms. Even little Avery would have to get used to growing up with either his mother or his father—not both. What right did I have, as an adult, to struggle with this reality?

During the contract period, I could seek his help when I couldn't sleep.

But after it expired, if I still had insomnia, I couldn't exactly knock on his door.

I closed my bedroom door and tossed restlessly in my large bed, trying desperately to cultivate sleepiness that refused to come.