The world outside their walls was quiet. The kind of quiet that felt suspended heavy, holding its breath.
Inside, only the sound of their uneven breathing filled the space.
Juliette's back touched the edge of the marble counter, and for a long, endless moment, she couldn't move. His hands were still at her waist, his fingers pressing lightly through the thin silk of her night robe. His warmth lingered there steady, dangerous.
Her lips were still parted.
Her heart… she wasn't sure if it was still inside her chest.
She felt it the place where he'd kissed her. Soft, slow, devastating.
Not rushed, not careless but deliberate, like a confession he hadn't meant to make.
When she finally dared to look up, Cassian was staring at her.
His eyes were darker than the night, his jaw tight, breath heavy. He didn't speak just looked, as though memorizing her face would help him make sense of what he'd just done.
Her lips trembled.
She didn't know if she wanted to run… or stay.
"Cassian…" she whispered, her voice breaking at the edges.
He blinked once as if her voice snapped something fragile in him. His gaze dropped briefly to her mouth again, and she saw it: the flicker of restraint, the battle behind his calm.
For a second, she thought he might kiss her again.
She thought she might let him.
But then he drew in a slow breath, as if to steady himself.
His hands fell away from her waist not abruptly, but reluctantly, fingers grazing her skin like a farewell.
The air between them changed, cooling with the distance he forced between them.
Juliette swallowed hard, her throat dry. "I… I should go to bed," she managed, though her voice trembled with something she couldn't hide.
He nodded once, eyes still on her, unreadable. "Juliette."
Just her name. Low. Rough.
The way he said it made her knees weaken.
She couldn't bear it.
She turned away before he could see the tears gathering in her eyes the confusion, the ache, the impossible hope unfurling in her chest.
She left , footsteps soft on the marble floor, her pulse thundering in her ears.
Behind her, Cassian didn't move.
He stood there in the half-light the faint orange from the city lights spilling across his features, his hand still half-raised, as if he could still feel her waist beneath his palm.
He ran his fingers through his hair, exhaled sharply, and whispered under his breath something that sounded like regret. Or maybe her name again.
The Next Morning
Juliette woke late sunlight already filtering through the tall curtains. Her head throbbed lightly, but it wasn't just the hangover. It was the memories. The way he'd looked at her. The warmth of his breath against her lips. The feeling that she'd crossed a line she could never uncross.
She pressed her fingers against her mouth and exhaled shakily.
It hadn't been a dream.
She could still feel him like a shadow, lingering in her pulse.
Her reflection in the mirror looked almost like someone else. Her cheeks flushed, her eyes softer, her lips still a little swollen.
A knock came at the door.
"Madam?" Maya's gentle voice carried through. "Breakfast is ready. Mr. Vale is still home."
Juliette froze.
Still home?
She felt her stomach twist. How was she supposed to face him now?
Pretend nothing happened? Pretend her heart wasn't a mess of trembling emotions she didn't understand?
She ran her fingers through her hair, brushed it down, changed into something simple soft beige knit, clean and quiet but nothing she wore could hide the chaos inside.
"Compose yourself, Juliette," she whispered under her breath, staring at her reflection.
But her hands were still shaking.
Breakfast
The sound of silverware clinking against porcelain filled the room when she entered.
Cassian was already seated at the long dining table, a newspaper open beside his untouched coffee. He looked calm too calm. His suit jacket rested neatly over the chair, sleeves rolled up, watch glinting under the morning light.
When he lifted his gaze to her, her breath caught.
He didn't speak immediately.
Just watched her walk in slow, unreadable, like the night hadn't happened but also like it had changed everything.
"Good morning," she said softly, forcing a smile that barely reached her eyes.
His voice was low, steady. "You're awake
She sat across from him, her fingers brushing the edge of the table. "Yes… I wasn't feeling too well."
He studied her for a moment longer, then said, "You're better now?" Drunk little thing
It wasn't just a question it was concern, hidden behind the flat tone he always used.
She nodded, eyes downcast. "I think so."
Silence stretched between them. The kind that wasn't empty but filled with unspoken things.
When she reached for the glass of juice, her hand brushed his by accident. Just the edge of her fingers.
It was nothing a passing contact yet her entire body went still.
He froze too. Their eyes met, and the air shifted again, heavy, charged.
Cassian was the first to look away, his jaw tightening slightly.
"You don't have to apologize for feeling things," he said quietly, breaking the silence.
Her head lifted, startled. "What?"
He didn't look up, just folded the newspaper, his tone quieter now. "Last night. You don't have to be embarrassed about it."
Juliette's lips parted. She wanted to speak to say it wasn't just her, that he'd felt it too but the words got stuck in her throat.
So she simply whispered, "Thank you."
He finally met her eyes again. There was something almost tender there, buried deep something that shouldn't have been there at all.
The silence between them stretched, soft and unbroken except for the occasional clink of cutlery.
Juliette tried to eat, but every bite felt heavy. Every glance he gave her fleeting but lingering made her heart stumble.
Cassian drank his coffee in quiet thought, though the paper before him remained unread. Once, when she reached for the butter, her fingers brushed his again. She froze; he didn't move away. The contact was brief, almost accidental, yet enough to remind them both that something had shifted something fragile and irreversible.
When Maya came in to refill the juice, Juliette forced herself to look elsewhere. But she could still feel him that quiet awareness that followed her even when she tried to breathe normally.
When the maid left, Cassian finally spoke again, his tone softer than before.
"You're not eating," he said, not looking up.
Juliette blinked, caught off guard. "I… I'm not really hungry."
He gave a small nod, fingers tracing the rim of his cup. "You should still try. You'll need the strength."
Her brows drew together slightly. "For what?"
Cassian's lips twitched not quite a smile, but something close. "To survive another day in this house," he said quietly.
Juliette's lips parted, a tiny, unexpected laugh escaping before she could stop it. His tone wasn't harsh it was teasing, gentle even. The sound of her laughter made his chest ache in a way he didn't expect.
The quiet that followed wasn't uncomfortable anymore. It felt… fragile. Almost intimate.
After a moment, Cassian pushed his chair back. "I should get going."
She nodded, fingers nervously twisting the napkin on her lap. "Okay."
He stood, reached for his suit jacket, and hesitated. His gaze softened when it met hers again she wasn't hiding behind formality this time. Her hair fell loosely over her shoulders, her eyes warm and uncertain.
He stepped closer.
Too close.
Juliette's breath hitched.
Cassian's hand lifted slow, deliberate and tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. His fingers brushed her skin. Warm. Careful.
"Don't hide when you're hurting, Juliette," he said, voice low, deep. "You don't have to."
For a heartbeat, the world stopped.
Her throat went dry. "Cassian…"
But before she could find her words, he stepped back. Composure returning like armor sliding into place.
He picked up his keys from the counter. "I'll be home late."
And then he left just like that.
The door clicked softly behind him, leaving the air heavy and trembling in his absence.
Juliette stood frozen by the table. Her pulse still racing, her skin tingling where he'd touched her. She pressed a palm against her chest, as though she could calm the wild rhythm there.
Don't hide when you're hurting.
The words echoed through her mind, over and over, like a secret promise she wasn't sure she was ready to believe.
She sank slowly into the chair again, staring at the half-empty cup of coffee before her.
Then she smiled faintly almost to herself.
Because the truth was simple, painful, and terrifying all at once.
She liked him.
She had from the start even when he ignored her, even when she told herself he was impossible to love.
It wasn't just admiration. It was something that lived quietly inside her, growing stronger with every small, unguarded thing he did.
And now, after last night after that kiss she couldn't pretend anymore.
She whispered to herself, barely audible, "You're in trouble, Juliette"
Her cheeks warmed, and she lowered her gaze, a shaky smile playing at her lips.
Because somewhere deep down, she already knew: her heart wasn't hers anymore.
...
The city was waking up around him, bathed in morning gold.
Cassian's car moved smoothly through the streets, but his mind wasn't on the road. His fingers tapped lightly against the steering wheel, jaw clenched.
He'd barely slept. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her again the way she looked at him last night, the way her voice broke when she whispered his name. The softness of her mouth. The taste of something he shouldn't have wanted.
It had been a mistake.
That's what he told himself.
But every time he tried to believe it, his chest tightened.
He gripped the wheel harder. He'd always prided himself on control the ability to command every room, every deal, every person. But with her… control wasn't enough.
Juliette Vale.
His wife.
The woman who was supposed to be invisible, convenient nothing more.
And yet last night, when she looked at him like he was the only thing that made sense, something inside him shifted.
He could still feel her warmth. The tremble in her breath.
The way her lips felt under his soft, hesitant, unguarded.
Cassian cursed under his breath, running a hand through his hair.
"This isn't supposed to happen," he muttered.
But the moment he stopped at a red light, her face returned uninvited. The memory of her whispering his name like it meant something tore through him.
And for a fleeting second, he didn't know what scared him more losing control… or wanting to.
When the light turned green, he pressed his foot on the accelerator, his expression hardening again.
He told himself to focus on work, on anything else.
But every street corner, every passing reflection, every flicker of light through the glass reminded him of her of that kiss.
He let out a quiet, bitter laugh.
"So why," he whispered under his breath, "do I want it to happen again?"