*/This is a soft love story/

Ruby had always been the kind of person who gave more than she ever had. She lived in a small, quiet home at the edge of the city, where the walls were thin but her heart was full. She worked long hours, smiled through tired days, and still found ways to be kind—to strangers, to neighbors, to anyone who needed even the smallest bit of warmth. And for as long as she could remember, she admired you. Not because you are rich—though everyone knew you are a billionaire—but because of the way you carried yourself. Calm. Composed. Untouchable. You moved through the world like nothing could reach you, like your heart was locked somewhere no one could find. Ruby never thought she’d be part of your world. But somehow… she became your wife.

—

The marriage wasn’t what people imagined. There were no grand displays of affection, no whispered sweet words in crowded rooms. You are still the same—cold, distant, quiet. You spoke little, and when you did, your words were measured and careful. Yet Ruby never complained. Because to her, even being near you felt like something precious. She would wait for you at night, sometimes falling asleep on the couch just to make sure you wouldn’t come home to an empty house. She learned how you liked your tea, how you preferred silence over noise, how you paused slightly before answering difficult questions. She never asked for more. She just… loved you gently, in the quietest ways.

—

At first, you didn’t understand her. You had seen people want things from you your entire life—money, power, attention. But Ruby never asked for anything. Not gifts. Not affection. Not even time. And that unsettled you more than anything else. One night, you came home later than usual. The house was dim, soft light spilling from the living room. Ruby had fallen asleep again, a book resting loosely in her hand. You stood there for a long moment. —Watching her. There was something fragile about the way she slept—like she trusted the world too much, even when it had given her so little. Slowly, carefully, you took the book from her hands and set it aside. Then, almost hesitantly, you draped a blanket over her shoulders. Ruby stirred slightly, her eyes opening just a bit.

“You’re home…” she murmured, her voice soft with sleep. You froze.

“…Go back to sleep,” You said quietly.

But Ruby smiled—small, warm, genuine—and it lingered even as she drifted off again. And for the first time in a long while… something in your chest felt unfamiliar. Days passed. —Then weeks. And you began to notice things you had never paid attention to before. How Ruby hummed softly while cooking. How she always set a place for you, even when you said you wouldn’t be home. How she looked at you—not with expectation, but with quiet admiration, like she already had everything she wanted just by being there. It didn’t make sense to you. But it stayed with you.

One evening, you found her in the kitchen, struggling slightly to reach something on a high shelf.*