Rain traced slow lines down the tall glass windows as night wrapped the mansion in darkness.
Elara sat alone on the edge of her bed, staring at the unfamiliar room that now belonged to her in name, but not yet in heart. The silence felt different tonight. Not empty.
Expectant.
She heard footsteps in the hallway — slow, deliberate — and somehow she already knew who it was.
A soft knock.
Her breath caught.
"Yes?"
The door opened slightly.
Dominic didn't step in right away. He stayed by the door, as if giving her the choice.
"I couldn't sleep," he said quietly.
Neither could she.
"You can come in," she whispered.
He walked in, stopping just inside the room. Moonlight fell across his face, softening the angles that usually made him look carved from stone.
"You should be resting," he said.
"I tried."
They stood there, wrapped in quiet.
Not awkward.
Not rushed.
Just… honest.
He glanced at the ring on her finger.
"Does it feel heavy?"
She looked down.
"Yes."
His lips pressed into a thin line.
"It wasn't meant to be a chain."
She looked up at him.
"Then what was it meant to be?"
He didn't answer right away.
That scared her more than any harsh word would have.
Finally, he said, "A shield."
Her heart stuttered.
He stepped closer — not invading, not touching — just close enough that she felt the warmth of his presence.
"You didn't deserve to be bartered like a thing," he added.
That did it.
The tears she'd been holding back slipped free.
She turned her face away quickly.
"I'm not crying," she said, voice cracking.
"I know," he said softly. "You're breathing through pain."
She let out a shaky breath.
"You scare people," she whispered.
"I scare myself sometimes," he admitted.
That was the crack.
The small, dangerous crack in his armor.
She looked at him — really looked — and saw it.
Loneliness.
Not power.
Pain.
"You're not the devil," she said quietly.
His eyes darkened — not with anger.
With something deeper.
"Don't say that," he murmured.
"Why?"
"Because if I'm not a monster… then I have no excuse for the things I've done."
The words sat heavy between them.
She didn't move.
He didn't move.
The space between them vibrated with things unsaid, felt but not touched.
At the door, he paused.
"Sleep, Elara."
Then, softer:
"And stop pretending you don't feel safe here."
He left.
The door closed.
Her fingers brushed the ring on her hand.
And for the first time, she wondered something that terrified her more than this marriage ever had:
What if she was slowly falling for the man she was supposed to fear?