The Queen He Never Deserved

The soup boiled over. Rose Thompson blinked, startled by the hiss as the creamy mushroom soup spilled over the edge of the pot and onto the stove. "Oh!" She hurried to lower the flame, grabbing a cloth before the hot liquid spread any farther. A few drops splashed onto the back of her hand. She flinched. "Ow..." A faint red mark appeared on her fair skin. For a moment, she simply stared at it before letting out a small, embarrassed laugh. "I've burned the soup again." It was the second time that evening. She emptied the pot into the sink, washed it carefully, and began all over again. Outside, rain lashed against the tall windows of the Adam Mansion. Lightning flashed across the dark sky, briefly illuminating the sprawling estate before everything disappeared behind the curtain of rain once more. The mansion was magnificent. Italian marble gleamed beneath crystal chandeliers. Rare paintings decorated the walls. Every piece of furniture had been chosen by world-famous designers. It was a house admired by everyone who entered. Yet it never felt like a home. Rose tied her apron tighter and reached for fresh mushrooms. "If I hurry, it'll still be warm when he finishes work." She wasn't speaking to anyone in particular. Sometimes, saying the words aloud made the silence feel less lonely. "Mrs. Adam." Rose turned with a gentle smile. Mrs. Helen stood at the kitchen entrance, her silver hair neatly pinned into a bun. She had worked for the Adam family for over thirty years, long enough to remember Fred as a stubborn little boy who hated vegetables. "Good evening, Mrs. Helen." The older woman stepped inside, her sharp eyes immediately noticing the fresh ingredients on the counter. "You started over." Rose glanced at the empty pot in the sink and smiled sheepishly. "I wasn't paying attention." "You burned yourself." Only then did Rose remember the small burn on her hand. "It's nothing." Mrs. Helen walked closer, took Rose's hand without asking, and frowned at the reddened skin. "You should put some ointment on it." "I'll do it later." "You always say that." Rose lowered her eyes, unable to deny it. Mrs. Helen released her hand and looked around the kitchen. "You haven't eaten lunch." It wasn't a question. Rose laughed softly, hoping to brush it aside. "I wasn't very hungry." Mrs. Helen gave her a look that said she wasn't fooled. "You've said that every day this week." Rose looked away. The truth was simple. When she worried about Fred, she often forgot herself. A heavy silence settled between them. Finally, Mrs. Helen spoke. "Young Master won't notice whether the soup has one spoon of salt or two." Rose gently stirred the pot. "I'll notice." Mrs. Helen's expression softened. She had never understood this young woman. Rose had married into one of the wealthiest families in the country, yet she never behaved like a rich man's wife. She thanked every servant. She remembered birthdays. She watered the flowers herself when the gardener's wife was ill. She even apologized when someone else bumped into her. Sometimes Mrs. Helen wondered if Rose had simply been born with a heart too gentle for this world. "Why do you keep trying?" she asked quietly. Rose stopped stirring. For several seconds, only the sound of rain filled the kitchen. Then she smiled—a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "If I stop caring because someone doesn't care back..." She paused, searching for the right words. "...then I won't be myself anymore." Mrs. Helen had no answer. An hour later, dinner was finally ready. Creamy mushroom soup. Pan-seared salmon. Roasted vegetables. Warm bread rolls. Rose arranged everything neatly inside an insulated food carrier before wiping invisible fingerprints from the lid. Satisfied, she reached into a nearby drawer and took out a small notebook wrapped in faded blue cloth. It was the only secret she kept. She opened it carefully. Every page held a single memory. Not grand declarations of love. Just tiny moments she refused to forget. "He thanked me for the coffee." "He wore the tie I bought him." "He came home before midnight." To anyone else, they would seem insignificant. To Rose... They were enough to keep hoping. She turned to a blank page. After a long moment, she wrote slowly. Maybe we'll finally have dinner together tonight. She stared at the words for a few seconds before closing the notebook. Deep down... She knew hope could be painful. But giving it up felt even harder. Just then, her phone vibrated. The screen displayed a familiar name. Daniel Brooks. Rose answered with a smile. "Good evening, Daniel." On the other end, Daniel hesitated. "Mrs. Adam... Mr. Adam will be working late tonight." The smile on her face faded for only a heartbeat. "I see." "He asked me to tell you not to wait." Rose looked at the warm food resting on the counter. Then toward the rain beyond the window. A quiet sigh escaped her lips. "He forgets to eat whenever he's busy." Daniel closed his eyes. He had expected exactly that answer. "You really don't have to come." Rose picked up the food carrier. "It'll only take a little while." Before Daniel could persuade her otherwise, she ended the call. Mrs. Helen watched from the doorway. "You're still going." Rose nodded. "If I don't..." She glanced at the food in her hands. "...it'll all go to waste." Mrs. Helen knew that wasn't the real reason. But she said nothing. A few minutes later, Rose stepped into the storm, holding the food carrier close to her chest as though protecting something precious. The rain soaked her sleeves almost immediately. She didn't notice. All she could think about was one simple hope. Maybe... tonight would be different.The rain showed no sign of stopping. By the time Rose arrived at the Adam Group headquarters, the shoulders of her cream-colored cardigan were soaked despite the umbrella she carried. She paused beneath the towering glass building, catching her breath before smoothing the wrinkles from her skirt. She didn't want Fred to see her looking untidy. Even if he only glanced at her for a second. The revolving doors opened automatically as she stepped inside. Warm air replaced the cold rain. "Good evening, Mrs. Adam." The security guard greeted her with a respectful nod. Rose returned the greeting with a gentle smile. "Good evening, Mr. Lewis." He hurried around the desk. "You're drenched. Let me get you a towel." "Thank you." She accepted it with both hands. "Please don't worry about me." Mr. Lewis smiled helplessly. She always thanked everyone, from the cleaners to the executives. It was one of the reasons the staff liked her. Not because she was the chairman's wife. Because she treated everyone as if they mattered. Daniel Brooks stepped out of the elevator a moment later. The moment he saw Rose, his expression tightened. "You still came." Rose lifted the insulated carrier slightly. "The soup is still warm." Daniel looked at the carrier before looking back at her rain-soaked sleeves. For a brief moment, guilt washed over him. "Mrs. Adam... Mr. Adam is still in a meeting." "I'll wait." “It may be a while." "That's alright." She settled into one of the lobby chairs without another word. The building gradually grew quieter. Employees clocked out one after another. Some smiled politely at Rose. Others whispered to one another before stepping into the elevators. Everyone knew the story. The chairman's grandson had married because of his grandmother's wishes. His wife loved him deeply. He never loved her back. No one said it aloud. No one needed to. Nearly an hour passed. Rose opened the food carrier and checked the soup. It had cooled. She frowned slightly. "I'm sorry..." She carried it to the staff pantry and politely asked if she could warm it. Five minutes later, she returned to the lobby, smiling in quiet satisfaction. "Perfect." On the thirty-sixth floor... Fred Adam stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office. The city shimmered beneath the rain. Daniel entered quietly. "The meeting is over." Fred nodded. "What else?" Daniel hesitated. "Mrs. Adam is downstairs." Fred didn't turn around. "I told her not to come." "I know." Silence filled the office. Finally, Daniel spoke again. "She's been waiting for almost an hour." Fred closed the file in his hand. "She should go home." "She only wants to give you dinner." "I've already eaten." That wasn't entirely true. He'd skipped lunch. And dinner. Again. But he had no intention of accepting the meal. In his mind, every act of devotion from Rose carried the same unspoken expectation. She wanted him to become the husband his grandmother wished him to be. She wanted a real marriage. And he couldn't give her that. Not when he'd never chosen this marriage in the first place. "Use the private exit." Daniel stared at him. "...Sir?" "I don't want to encourage false hope." Daniel wanted to argue. Instead, he simply lowered his head. "Yes, Mr. Adam." The private elevator doors closed. Downstairs... The main lobby doors opened. Rose stood the moment she heard footsteps. Hope brightened her tired eyes. But it wasn't Fred. It was Daniel. His smile was strained. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Adam." Rose looked beyond him. The lobby was empty. Understanding slowly settled over her. "...He left?" Daniel nodded. "He had another engagement." The lie felt heavy on his tongue. Rose lowered her gaze to the food carrier in her hands. For several seconds, she said nothing. Then she smiled. A quiet, practiced smile. "I understand." She held out the carrier. "Could you please give this to him tomorrow morning?" Daniel accepted it carefully. "I will." She bowed her head slightly. "Thank you." As she turned toward the exit, Daniel called softly, "Mrs. Adam." She looked back. "You deserve..." He stopped himself. Rose waited. After a long silence, he simply said, "...Drive safely." She smiled. "I always do." The storm had grown fiercer. Rain pounded the pavement as Rose stepped onto the deserted street. Across the road, traffic lights reflected like broken ribbons of red and gold on the wet asphalt. She wrapped her arms around herself. For the first time that night... She felt cold. Not because of the rain. But because, somewhere deep inside her heart, a tiny hope had finally begun to fade. She took one step off the curb. Then another. A horn blared through the storm. Someone shouted. "Watch out!" Rose turned instinctively. Blinding headlights rushed toward her. Time seemed to stop. She didn't think about the pain. She didn't think about herself. Instead... She remembered the notebook still resting inside her handbag. The last words she'd written. Maybe we'll finally have dinner together tonight. A sad smile touched her lips. "So... it wasn't tonight either..." The impact came like thunder. The world spun. Then there was only silence. As darkness closed around her, one final thought drifted through her fading consciousness. I'm sorry... Dinner got cold again.