Chapter 7 Why Do You Hate Me

AMAYA'S POV

The soft click of the door closing pulled me from my thoughts. "Why did he moved away from me?" I muttered to myself, trying to understand why Logan hadn't kissed me. If he had, maybe things would've been different. But no, Erica-my crazy friend keeps offering advice that only leads me into more trouble.

I sighed, gazing at the disheveled living room. What happened here? An earthquake?

Wasn't there supposed to be a maid in this house? Why is it such a mess?

"Madam Nova!" I called as I made my way to the kitchen, but she was nowhere to be found. Maybe she went out? I paused, thinking about Logan's words. He had clearly told me to clean up before he came back.

"He must have made Nova do this," I muttered, as realization hit me.

Was I a murderer in a past life? Maybe God is punishing for my previous life crime by making me cross paths with Logan. I still can't fathom how someone could find pleasure in causing another person's discomfort.

If this is some kind of divine punishment, I might as well change my clothes and humbly clean just as my husband as ordered. I climbed the stairs to my room, took off the heels and short gown, and swapped them for black shorts and a blue t-shirt. I threw on some flip-flops and headed back downstairs to clean up the mess.

I've never cleaned before. This was a first for me. I'm almost amused by how strange it feels. Growing up, my father would always stop me when I tried to clean. He'd say, "Princesses don't clean." And now, here I am, cleaning like a maid.

Eventually, I managed to put everything back in place. The floor was spotless, but just to avoid any trouble, I figured I should do more cleaning.

An hour later, I was done. I flopped down on the couch, utterly exhausted. Who knew cleaning could be this tiring? Thanks to Logan, I've learned just how much energy it takes to clean a house.

He's the most irrational person I've ever met. Who gets mad because someone enters their library? He should even be happy that I am interested in his library, who find pleasure in a library? Only a sadist like him love library.

"Forever in Darkness," I whispered, recalling the book I saw in the library yesterday. I'm not really into novels, but that one caught my attention. Maybe I should order it online. Who even wrote it?

I bit my nail, glancing toward the door. The thought of going to the library to find the author's name flashed in my mind. I stood up and headed toward the stairs, my heart beating a little faster.

I barely took few steps when I heard a click sound from the door. My eyes widened as I quickly rush to sit on the couch.

That was close! What if Logan had caught me snooping around? Today would've been my last day alive.

Logan entered with a man-no, not just a man, an angel! Why did he look so... handsome? Did he fell from heaven or what? I can't deny this man is more attractive than my devilish husband. His curly hair is something to die for, oh my gosh! His eyes are so tempting.

They both sat down.

"Good..." I started, but Logan's voice cut me off.

"You didn't make breakfast? This is what you call cleaning? Are you blind? Can't you see the dust on the table? Why are you so incompetent?"

I froze, not knowing how to respond. I cleaned this place more than five times, but I don't want to argue. I don't want more problem for myself. So, I just sat there, like a fool.

"There's no dust here, Logan." the handsome man sitting beside Logan defended, his brows furrowed as if he didn't understand Logan's outburst either.

Logan's face softened slightly as he turned to his friend. "Maxon, you are not wearing your glasses that's why you probably can't see it but I can." he snapped, his voice colder than usual.

He is trying to fight his friend now? He is not just cold to me, he have been a psychopath from the beginning. I continue watching him complaining.

"You are still crazy, Logan." Maxon laughed. "But... I can't see any dirt here."

Inwardly, I agreed with Maxon. Looks can be a guide sometimes, Maxon was more handsome and sensible while Logan behave just opposite of his looks__maybe because he was half handsome.

Logan's face hardened. "Why are you sitting? Go make breakfast," he ordered.

I quickly retreated to the kitchen, hoping to avoid any more trouble.

Staring at the utensils in the kitchen, I had no idea where to begin. My father had always hired a cook for me, so I'd never had to cook for myself. Why does Logan keep making me do things I've never done before? I sighed in frustration, turned on the stove, and grabbed a pot. I started throwing whatever I found into it.

He will never ask me to cook again once he sees this disaster.

Grabbing an onion, I sliced it with more force than necessary, my frustration building. Logan made me feel like everything I did was wrong.

I didn't notice how hard I was slicing until the knife cut into my finger. "Ouch!" I yelped, the pain shooting through my hand.

"What happened?" Maxon asked, rushing over to me and gently taking my finger. "Let's get it cleaned up," he said in a calm voice.

We walked to the living room, where Logan sat, casually watching TV as though he hadn't heard my scream. Was he even human?

Maxon sat me down in a chair and fetched the first aid kit. As he tended to my wound, I couldn't focus on anything except Logan. His attention was still on the screen. How could he be so indifferent? What did I do to deserve this man as my husband?

I must have looked lost in thought because I didn't notice Logan turning to face me. His gaze met mine, and for a moment, I felt like the world had stopped. I searched his eyes, hoping to find some sign of empathy, but all I saw was disdain. And one thing is sure, all the hatred is for me.

"Why?" I whispered, tears falling from my eyes. I can't take it anymore. Why did he hated me so much? We have not even cross paths before, obviously I didn't do anything bad to him. Even his friend cared for me. Why can't he do that? Why can't he even tell me my offense?

Maxon paused, his eyes darting between me and Logan, sensing the change in the air. Logan didn't speak or look away. His stare was unwavering, a silent judgment that cut deeper than words.

"What are you saying?" he asked, his voice devoid of any warmth.

"Why do you hate me?"