The Stand-In Who Burned the Script novel Chapter 167

Chapter 167

The city’s neon lights blurred past the windows, reflecting against the glass and painting the night in vibrant, dizzying streaks of color.

Vivian was always a fast driver. They made it back to Southpark in under thirty minutes.

A sharp cramp suddenly seized her stomach, and her grip on the steering wheel loosened.

The man beside her noticed the subtle shift.

He said nothing and got out of the car.

Vivian watched him walk away without a second glance. She sighed softly and muttered to herself, “How can he have absolutely zero gentlemanly grace around me? Unbelievable.”

She rubbed her aching stomach and went inside.

They hadn’t turned the lights off when they left. The bright glow illuminating the space between the dining area and the living room was almost blinding.

The food on the table remained untouched, but it had all gone cold and probably tasted terrible by now.

Vivian stood there for a couple of seconds before turning toward the living room.

Silas was already sitting on the couch, booting up his laptop.

For Silas, headphones were an absolute necessity. Watching him put them on was the only time Vivian ever truly remembered he was blind.

She stood there quietly admiring him for a moment until the burning sensation in her stomach flared up again.

She let out a sharp breath and walked over.

Reaching out, she snagged the laptop off his lap.

Then, she slid directly into his lap.

“I only had two bites of food earlier. I’m starving.”

She looped both arms around his neck, her voice sweet and sultry. Her eyes sparkled as if they held an entire galaxy of stars.

Silas frowned slightly.

“Get off,” he said in a low voice.

She tilted her head up, her breathtaking features directly facing him, and completely ignored his demand. “Are you hungry? I can make some pasta for you, sound good?”

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Silas pinned her with a dark, heavy gaze, as if trying to figure out what kind of bizarre creature had invaded his home.

“Vivian, are you seriously this desperate for a man?”

“I wouldn’t say desperate. But we’re married now, so it’s not like I can go looking for anyone else… could I?”

“You’re welcome to try.”

“See? That means no.”

The woman seemed completely oblivious to the sheer danger in his eyes. She spoke with total sincerity before flashing a smile. “But I’m just joking. I’d never. You’re the only one 1 want.”

*You’re the only one I want.*

Had those words fallen on any other man’s ears, his heart would have been pounding out of

his chest.

But Silas didn’t show a single ounce of reaction. He stared coldly at her and gritted his teeth. “Get off!”

No.

Vivian looked at him earnestly, genuinely baffled.

“Can you stop shouting at me? Just think about it-these past few days, you’ve done nothing but snap at me, and I’ve been doing all the sweet-talking.”

Silas’s chest rose and fell heavily as he pried her hands away.

He leaned his head back against the sofa.

His expression was incredibly complex. Much later, he would confess to Vivian that the 1 feeling had been utter helplessness.

He had absolutely no idea what to do with her.

Vivian’s lips curved into a smirk.

Teasing him actually made the pain in her stomach a little more bearable.

She reached out, lightly tracing his Adam’s apple, and murmured, “Alright, stop being so grumpy. I’m going to make the pasta. Wait right here.”

The sudden emptiness in his lap made Silas instinctively open his eyes. The woman’s silhouette was a fuzzy blur in his vision, flashing sharply into focus for a split second before

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sinking back into a dark abyss.

He shook his head, his jaw remaining tight.

Just then, a loud clatter echoed from the kitchen.

His eyes narrowed sharply, and he shot up from the sofa.

Vivian was standing there with one hand hovering in mid-air, staring blankly at the knife and cutting board scattered across the floor.

Before Silas could even step through the door, she threw herself pitifully into his arms.

Striking preemptively, she whined, “I just wanted to chop some greens, but the knife was way too sharp. It sliced right into my hand.”

“So you’re saying it’s the knife’s fault?”

She pouted, looking up at him with immense, silent grievance.