The ride home was quiet.
Emily sat with her hands folded in her lap, gaze fixed on the world slipping past the tinted windows. Trees, traffic, students everything moved fast outside, but inside the car time felt thick, stretched, deliberate.
Timothy didn't speak. He just observed her quietly.
He had returned to his usual silence, but something in the way he rested an elbow against the window, fingers brushing his jaw, felt different. More measured. As if he was replaying every second of what happened at school and cataloguing it like data.
When they reached the estate, he stepped out first and held the door open for her.
A simple gesture.
But something in it made her pulse tighten.
She stepped out slowly. The moment her feet touched the ground, he closed the door behind her and turned, his eyes scanning her face with a depth that made her throat dry.
"You handled him too well," he said finally.
She blinked. "Was I supposed to let him drag me around?"
"No." His voice dipped lower. "But next time, don't give them a story they can twist."
Emily frowned, hurt prickling faintly. "So I did something wrong?"
He exhaled, looking away briefly frustration flickering through his expression, not at her, but at himself.
"That's not what I meant," he said quietly. "I'm not upset with you. I'm upset that you were put in that position in the first place."
Emily felt something unwelcome and warm push against her ribs.
He was worried?
But why?
"Let's go inside," he added.
—------
Inside, the atmosphere shifted.
The housemaids kept glancing at Emily with something like awe or fear or curiosity. Maybe all three. Rumor traveled fast here.
Timothy noticed too. His jaw tightened.
Everyone scattered instantly.
He walked ahead, but slowed his pace just enough for her to catch up. Subtle, but intentional.
When they reached the living room, he turned to her.
"Sit."
She raised a brow. "You're ordering me now?"
"Advising," he corrected, voice low. "Sit."
Emily sat.
Timothy folded his arms and leaned against the opposite wall, his stare sharp enough to pin her in place.
"You don't raise a hand against someone unless you're prepared for the consequences," he said. "That's the rule of power."
"I didn't start the fight."
"I know."
"Then why are you"
"Emily."
Her name left his mouth like a warning and a reassurance tangled together.
"I'm not criticizing you," he said. "I'm preparing you."
"For what?" she whispered.
His eyes didn't waver. "For what comes with being tied to me."
The room felt colder suddenly.
"What does that even mean?" she asked.
"It means people will test you. Challenge you. Push you. Expect you to break." His voice dropped lower, almost intimate. "You didn't break today. But they'll come back with more next time."
Emily swallowed.
"And what if I do break?" she asked quietly.
He didn't hesitate.
"Then I'll step in."
Her breath hitched.
He crossed the room, slow and deliberate, until he stood right in front of her. Not touching. Just close enough for the heat of him to settle against her skin like a quiet claim.
"You called me," he murmured. "And I came."
Her heart thumped.
"That's not a coincidence. That's a pattern."
She looked up at him, confused and drawn all at once. "Timothy… what are you trying to say?"
His eyes dropped to her lips for the briefest second before rising again.
"You don't have to fight alone."
Something warm and frightening surged through her chest.
"Why?" she whispered.
A muscle in his jaw tightened like he was fighting against answering honestly.
"Because you're my wife," he said finally. "And whether you realize it or not… that means something."
The confession sat between them, heavy and unmistakable.
Emily swallowed hard. "Timothy…"
But before she could finish, a knock echoed at the entrance of the living room.
A maid stepped in, trembling slightly.
"Sir… someone is here to see Emily."
Timothy's expression shifted instantly cold, guarded, calculating.
"Who?"
A young lady… she said she is Madam's sister.
"Bring her in," Timothy said. His voice devoid of any emotion.
Stephanie arrived with a smile that barely masked her irritation. She scanned the room with quick, greedy eyes, the embroidered drapes, the carved furniture, the quiet elegance that surrounded Emily like a soft crown.
"So this is how you're living now," she said, voice dipped in mock wonder. "I expected something… humbler."
Emily folded her hands calmly. "Why are you here, Stephanie?"
"Oh, please." Stephanie waved a hand, strolling further into the room like she owned it. "I came to check on you. Mother is worried you're being mistreated. I needed to see if you were still… miserable."
But she wasn't hiding it well the envy dripping from every glance, the way her jaw tightened each time she saw something beautiful.
"You look comfortable," Stephanie continued, chin lifting. "Almost like a real noblewoman." She gave a soft, poisonous laugh. "Amazing what marriage can buy."
Emily didn't respond. Silence made Stephanie reckless.
She stepped closer. "You know, I should tell Timothy something important."
Emily's brow lifted. "And what exactly is that?"
"That you've always loved Benjamin." Stephanie delivered the lie like a dagger she had been sharpening for years. "That the only reason you agreed to this marriage is because Benjamin rejected you… and you wanted to make him jealous."
Emily felt her pulse spike not with fear, but with a cold, precise fury.
"That isn't true," she said quietly.
Stephanie smirked. "But he won't know that. Men in powerful families hate being second choice. Imagine how Timothy will react when he realizes you married him out of spite."
She brushed past Emily, ready to go find Timothy but the door opened before she touched it.
Timothy stood there.
Expression unreadable. Posture straight. Eyes sharpened like he had walked through fire and didn't mind burning one more person.
Stephanie froze mid-breath.
Emily felt the temperature of the room shift.
"I heard everything," Timothy said.
Stephanie's smile twitched and died. "Mr... I wasn't…"
"Lying," he finished simply.
Her throat bobbed.
Timothy stepped forward until she was forced to tilt her head up. "You entered this residence pretending to be concerned, but in reality you came here searching for a weakness to use against your own sister."
Stephanie swallowed hard, but he didn't give her space to speak.
"You came here to humiliate her. And you dared to do it in my home."
The butler appeared silently behind her.
Stephanie's voice trembled. "Your Highness, please"
"My tolerance is not infinite," Timothy said, voice low, steady, lethal without raising a single note. "You are leaving. And you will not return unless my wife requests it."
Emily saw Stephanie's panic flicker into her eyes, disbelief, fear, pride collapsing in on itself.
Emily offered nothing. No rescue. No softening. Only the composed dignity she had earned in th
is second life.
"Goodbye, Stephanie," Emily said.
The butler escorted her out. Not violently but firmly enough to make her feel embarrassed.
When the door closed, the silence was thick.