The house felt too large when Juliette opened her bedroom door and stepped inside. The quiet wrapped around her like a thin sheet, cool and suffocating at the same time. She leaned back against the door, her fingers trembling slightly as she slid the lock into place.
She didn't cry.
She refused to.
Instead, she stood there breathing shallowly, her eyes unfocused, her heart beating with a strange, dull pressure that neither hurt fully nor eased.
Cassian's face kept appearing in her mind.
Not the cold, distant version she had known for weeks…
But the softer one she saw tonight.
Soft.
For someone else.
She swallowed hard.
Her fingers unclipped her earrings. They clinked lightly on the table. She moved slowly, like each gesture required careful thought. Her reflection in the mirror looked foreign someone holding herself together with threads so thin, the slightest tug could unravel everything.
She traced her jaw gently.
"Don't be ridiculous," she whispered to herself.
"He owes you nothing."
Her voice cracked at the end, too quiet for even the walls to catch.
She climbed into bed without undressing and curled into herself, one arm beneath her cheek. The silk blanket brushed against her skin in a way that felt too delicate too gentle for the chaos inside her chest.
One tear slid to the corner of her eye.
She blinked it away before it fell.
Downstairs, Cassian stood in the exact spot she had left him hands in his pockets, brows slightly drawn. The silence didn't feel peaceful tonight. It pressed against him, thick and uneasy.
He loosened his tie, annoyed without knowing why.
Juliette's voice played again in his mind:
"Just tired."
Something had been hollow behind those words. Something small, fragile, and painfully unfamiliar.
He poured himself a drink. Didn't touch it. Set it down again. His restlessness stretched the night thin and sleepless.
For the first time, he wondered if he should have gone after her.
Morning arrived too early, painting the room with pale gold. Juliette sat up slowly, her body stiff from the awkward sleep. She dressed carefully choosing a simple black dress that fit her gently, almost like armor. Her hair stayed neat, pinned behind her ear without effort. Her makeup was light but precise.
No softness.
Just enough beauty to keep anyone from asking questions.
When she walked into the dining room, Cassian was already there.
He looked up instantly.
Her "Good morning" was barely above a whisper quiet, polite, distant. She didn't sit near him. She didn't meet his eyes. She stirred her tea with a stillness that felt unnatural, even to herself.
Cassian studied her openly.
Something in her was closed.
Locked away.
"You didn't sleep well," he said lightly.
"I slept enough."
The answer landed like a door shutting.
He frowned. "Juliette, is something"
"I'm fine," she said, without even looking up.
Something twisted sharply in him.
He didn't understand it, but he hated it.
After breakfast, Juliette reached for her bag. Maya approached with a soft, hesitant smile.
"Ma'am? You look a little pale. Are you okay?"
Juliette paused, then forced a small, soft smile one that didn't reach her eyes.
"I'm alright, Maya. Thank you."
Maya didn't believe her. It showed on her face.
But she stepped back anyway, respectful and concerned.
Cassian watched from the doorway as Juliette walked out.
She didn't glance at him.
Not once.
His jaw tightened.
He wasn't used to being ignored in his own home.
He wasn't used to feeling anything about it.
But now… something unfamiliar settled in his chest. A strange, unwelcome heaviness.
⸻
Work didn't feel like refuge today.
Juliette moved through the boutique carefully, quietly, trying to bury her thoughts under fabrics and ribbons. But her mind kept slipping returning to that shop… that woman… that laugh Cassian never gave her.
Zina brushed her shoulder lightly.
"You okay? You look… far away."
Juliette smiled. It looked polite, not warm.
"Just tired."
But she folded a dress incorrectly.
Placed silk with tulle.
Startled easily when Ms. Lydia called her name.
The woman from last night flashed in her mind again her perfume, her voice, the way she stood so comfortably beside Cassian.
Juliette pressed her hand to her chest for a moment.
She could breathe.
She just wished she didn't feel it so deeply.
...….
Around noon, her phone buzzed.
Cassian:
How is your day?
Her breath stalled.
She stared at the screen for a long moment.
Then she locked the phone and slid it back into her bag.
Not revenge.
Not spite.
Just protection.
Some wounds were too new to touch.
Across the city, Cassian stared at the "delivered" message with a quiet frown.
His fingers tapped against his desk.
He waited five minutes.
Ten.
Twenty.
No reply.
His irritation simmered half confusion, half something he would refuse to call worry.
⸻
Evening wrapped the house in a soft, gold glow when Juliette returned. Cassian heard the door and stepped into the hallway almost immediately.
Their eyes met.
His breath paused.
She looked… beautiful, but far away. Her silence wasn't cold; it was tired, gentle, like she was walking carefully so nothing inside her fell apart.
"Dinner is ready," Cassian said.
"I already ate," she replied.
It was a lie, and she knew he knew.
She moved to pass him.
He stepped slightly in front of her carefully, not dominating, just… present.
"Juliette… what's wrong?"
Her eyes lifted to his slowly.
Soft.
Hurt.
Shielded.
"Nothing you need to worry about."
The words didn't carry anger.
They carried surrender.
She walked around him.
Cassian didn't move for several seconds.
He felt something unfamiliar blooming in his chest like a small, sharp ache growing roots.
He didn't like this feeling.
He didn't understand it.
But he couldn't ignore it.
⸻
Later that night, the hallway was silent when Cassian walked to her door.
He paused in front of it.
Lifted his hand.
Almost knocked.
Almost.
But the space between them felt delicate too fragile to press against without breaking something he didn't know how to fix.
He lowered his hand.
Walked away.
Inside, Juliette sat in bed hugging her knees, her cheek against her arm. She stared at nothing, breathing through the ache in her chest.
The house held its breath.
Two people.
Two closed doors.
One fragile, growing distance neither knew how to cross.