Darian closed the book after a while, the distraction still lingering faintly in his mind. He stood up, his movements calm, controlled, as if nothing had happened. "You should go inside now," he said, his tone even. "It's getting cold."
Eline looked up at him, then nodded. He didn't think much of it. It made sense. He had already eaten enough anyway.
Darian didn't wait for a response. He turned and walked away, his posture steady, slipping back into the version of himself he preferred distant, composed, untouched.
Eline sat there for a few seconds more, then looked down at the box in his hands. There were still a lot left, but he had lost the urge to keep eating. With a small exhale, he stood up and headed back inside.
The house felt the same as always quiet, controlled. He went straight to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and placed the box back where it had been. For a moment, he just stood there, staring at it, then closed the door and made his way back to his room.
As he lay down on the bed, he stared up at the ceiling. He knew Carlson would come later. That was expected. All he had to do was sleep.
But sleep didn't come.
He had just woken up a few hours ago. Forcing himself back into it felt unnatural. His mind stayed active, drifting without direction.
How did I even end up here?
The thought came quietly, but it stayed.
He thought about the past few days, about everything that had happened, about how quickly things had changed. The deal, the house, the people
none of it felt real when he stepped back and looked at it like this.
He had gone out today. Sat in the garden. Ate strawberries like nothing was wrong.
From the outside, it didn't even seem that bad.
That thought lingered longer than it should have.
The only thing that still sat heavy in his chest was the idea of what would come later. The child. The fact that it wouldn't be his to keep. That was the only part he couldn't accept. The only part that still made him want to refuse everything.
He still wanted to leave.
But the urgency of it… had dulled slightly.
He didn't like that.
His eyes stayed fixed on the ceiling as the silence stretched.
Then—
A knock.
Eline turned his head slightly toward the door. "Who?" he asked, casually, assuming it was a maid.
Outside, Lucien stood still.
For a brief second, he didn't say anything. It wasn't natural for him to announce himself like that. The words didn't come easily, and he hesitated
just for a moment ,before deciding he would say it anyway.
But before he could
A maid's voice cut in, quick and respectful. "It's sir Lucien."
Lucien's gaze shifted sharply toward her, a flicker of irritation crossing his expression, as if questioning where she had appeared from. The maid immediately lowered her head and stepped away without waiting.
The door opened.
Eline stood there, looking at him with clear confusion. "You?" he said. "Why are you here at this time of night?"
Eline looked at him for a moment, still a little confused. "Why are you here at this time of the night?"
Lucien didn't answer that. Instead, he said, "Can I come in?"
Eline blinked once, then stepped aside. "Yeah… yes, please."
Lucien walked in without hesitation. His movements were steady, controlled, as always. He went straight to the chair beside the desk near the window and sat down.
He didn't say anything.
Eline closed the door and turned back toward him, waiting. A few seconds passed. Then a few more.
Nothing.
Eline shifted slightly and sat down on the bed, his eyes still on Lucien. The silence started to stretch longer than it should have. It wasn't comfortable. It wasn't natural either.
Why are you here… and why are you not saying anything?
He hesitated, trying to gather the words, but something about Lucien's presence made it harder than it should have been.
Lucien, on the other hand, sat there quietly, his gaze lowered slightly, his posture still. He hadn't planned what to say. He hadn't even planned to come properly. He just… came.
The image from the garden hadn't left his mind. The way Eline had been sitting there, the way Darian had been looking at him—something about it had stayed, unsettled him in a way he didn't want to examine.
So he came.
He didn't know why. He didn't have a reason he could put into words.
He just wanted to see him.
The silence between them stretched, both of them aware of it now, neither breaking it.