My Husband Is An International Idol

The underground room felt unusually warm that evening.

A small lamp illuminated the wooden table where Harry carefully unpacked the groceries he had bought from the village.

Fresh vegetables, rice, chicken and fruits were arranged neatly.

Harry looked almost... excited.

"I bought your favorite vegetables."

Liliana looked at the table before forcing a small smile.

"Thank you."

In truth, her stomach had been tied in knots ever since she woke up in that room.

She wasn’t hungry. She hadn’t been for days. Every meal reminded her that she wasn’t free. That every bite depended on the man who had stolen her from her family.

Harry noticed she wasn’t touching the food.

"You haven’t been eating much."

"I’m just tired."

"You’ll get sick."

He spoke with genuine concern.

"I don’t want that."

Liliana quietly lowered her eyes. She reminded herself of the same promise she had made on the first day.

Stay calm.

Gain his trust.

Wait.

Harry carried the freshly cooked dinner toward her.

"I made chicken soup. It should be warm enough now."

Liliana looked at her bound hands..Her wrists had begun to bruise where the ropes rubbed against her skin.

Harry immediately understood.

"Oh..."

He picked up the spoon.

"I’ll help."

Liliana felt every muscle in her body tense.

"I can manage."

"I know."

He smiled gently.

"But your hands can’t."

He sat in front of her and carefully lifted a spoonful of soup.

She wanted to refuse. She wanted to push him away. Instead, she slowly opened her mouth.

The soup tasted normal. Comforting, even. That somehow made everything worse.

Harry smiled with quiet satisfaction.

"See?"

"You needed to eat."

He patiently fed her another spoonful. Then another. Liliana fought the urge to cry. Not because of the food. But because every moment reminded her how powerless she was.

When dinner ended, Harry wiped the corner of her mouth with a clean napkin as though caring for someone precious.

"I’ll cook breakfast tomorrow."

Liliana suddenly looked at him.

"...Harry?"

He immediately smiled.

"Yes?"

She hesitated just enough to make it believable.

"I was thinking..."

"What is it?"

"I’ve always been the one cooking."

Harry listened attentively.

"I miss it."

He blinked.

"You... miss cooking?"

She nodded softly.

"It helps me relax."

She looked toward the vegetables still resting on the table.

"I want to prepare something."

Harry seemed surprised.

"For yourself?"

Liliana slowly shook her head.

"For us."

The room became quiet.

Harry stared at her as though he wasn’t sure he had heard correctly.

"For... us?"

She smiled gently.

"If that’s alright."

His eyes brightened immediately.

"What kind of meal?"

Liliana answered calmly.

"A special one."

Harry’s smile slowly faded into curiosity.

"...Is it..."

He hesitated.

"...the kind of meal you usually made for Chris?"

Liliana knew this question mattered.

Very carefully...

She shook her head.

"No."

Harry waited.

She continued quietly.

"I only make this when someone is..."

She paused before finishing.

"...very important to me."

Harry’s breathing caught.

"You mean..."

"I’d like to make it for you."

Silence.

Complete silence.

For the first time since she had met him again, Harry looked genuinely speechless. His face slowly softened. A smile spread across it. Not the unsettling smile of obsession. Not the triumphant smile she had seen before. But something almost childlike.

"You’d..." He gulped, "...cook for me?"

Liliana nodded.

"If you’ll let me."

Harry looked away for a moment. As though trying to hide how happy he suddenly felt.

"You’ve never..."

"No one..."

He quietly laughed to himself.

"I’d like that."

Liliana carefully observed him. The walls around him were lowering. His guard was beginning to slip.

Harry stood.

"I’ll untie your hands."

She remained perfectly still. He carefully loosened the ropes around her wrists. The sudden freedom almost made her gasp. Blood slowly returned to her fingers. She resisted the urge to rub them.

Harry looked down at the ropes around her ankles.

"Your feet..."

He hesitated.

"I’ll leave those. I’m sorry. I just..." He paused.

"I still don’t want you running away."

Liliana nodded understandingly.

"I understand."

Harry smiled with visible relief.

"Thank you."

He carried a small cutting board and placed it across her lap while she remained seated.

"I’ll bring everything closer."

One by one, he arranged the vegetables within her reach. He also prepared a small kitchen knife, a peeler, a bowl, and a chopping board.

He stepped back.

"There."

Liliana smiled.

"I’ll do my best."

Harry sat only a few feet away, watching quietly. Not suspicious. Simply admiring.

She slowly picked up the vegetables. Her hands moved naturally. Years of cooking for her family made every motion effortless. She peeled the carrot. Sliced the onion. And chopped the tomatoes.

Harry watched with quiet fascination.

"I used to imagine this."

Liliana looked up briefly.

"What?"

"You..."

He smiled.

"Cooking."

"I wondered what it would be like."

She forced another small smile before lowering her eyes again.

As she reached for another vegetable...

Her fingers brushed against the small kitchen knife.

An idea formed instantly.

Her heartbeat quickened.

This may be my only chance.

Without changing her expression, she continued preparing the vegetables at the same steady pace.

She shifted the cutting board slightly closer to herself, creating a natural shadow between her hands and Harry’s line of sight.

While moving a folded kitchen towel to wipe the board, she let it drape casually over one side of her lap.

Hidden beneath the cloth, her fingers carefully eased the small paring knife away from the rest of the utensils.

She never looked directly at it.

Instead, she continued talking.

"What was your favorite subject in school?"

Harry answered immediately.

"History."

His attention stayed on her face.

Not her hands.

Liliana nodded as though genuinely interested.

"I remember you always liked reading."

As Harry smiled at the memory, she used the moment to slide the small knife beneath the folds of the towel resting across her lap.

The movement was tiny. Measured. Almost invisible. Her pulse hammered in her ears. She was certain he would notice. She was sure that he would stand up and that everything would end.

But Harry only smiled.

"You remembered that?"

She looked up calmly, though inside she was terrified.

"Of course."

He laughed softly.

"I never thought you’d remember something about me."

Liliana forced herself to keep meeting his eyes.

Behind the towel, she could feel the cool handle of the hidden knife against her fingers.

She didn’t know when—or if—she would get another opportunity.

For now, she only had to keep Harry believing she trusted him.

And pray...

That he never looked beneath the towel.