Chapter 10: When Silence Became Louder Than Love
Silence stopped being empty the day it began answering back.
It followed me everywhere, settling into corners, sitting beside me at breakfast, slipping between my thoughts when I tried to focus. It wasn't peaceful. It was heavy, like air before a storm that refused to break.
Lucien and I perfected politeness.
"Good morning."
"Did you eat?"
"I'll be late tonight."
Simple sentences. Careful tones. No room for mistakes. No space for truth.
I hated how good we became at pretending.
School felt smaller, like the walls were inching closer every day. My friends noticed first.
"You okay?" Mina asked during lunch, nudging my tray. "You've been zoning out a lot."
"I'm fine," I said, smiling automatically.
She raised an eyebrow. "That smile is fake."
I laughed, a little too loudly. "You've been watching too many dramas."
She didn't laugh back. "Whatever it is, don't carry it alone."
If only it were that simple.
That afternoon, I received a message that made my hands tremble.
Emergency meeting tonight. Attend.
No sender name. No explanation. Just authority.
By the time I got home, Lucien was already dressed in a dark suit, his expression closed off in a way I hadn't seen before.
"You're coming with me," he said.
"To where?"
"A family board meeting," he replied. "They requested you."
My stomach dropped. "Why?"
"They didn't say."
That was worse.
The Blackwood estate was always intimidating, but that night it felt hostile. The long table was filled with faces that smiled without warmth, eyes sharp and calculating.
I sat beside Lucien, my hands folded tightly in my lap.
"So," an older woman began, tapping her nails lightly against the table, "this is the girl."
I swallowed.
Lucien's posture stiffened. "She has a name."
"Names aren't relevant," another man said smoothly. "Outcomes are."
I felt like an object on display.
"We've noticed," the woman continued, "that your arrangement has become… complicated."
Lucien didn't respond.
"Public interest is growing," she said. "That café photo caused unnecessary attention."
"I handled it," Lucien said calmly.
"You didn't," the man replied. "You softened it."
My chest tightened.
"This marriage was meant to stabilize the company image," the woman said, eyes fixed on me. "Not create emotional liabilities."
I clenched my fists.
"She's not a liability," Lucien said, voice low.
"She's a teenager," the woman countered. "And teenagers grow attached."
The room went quiet.
"I agreed to the terms," Lucien said. "Not you."
"You agreed to protect the Blackwood name," the man said. "Which means ending this phase before it escalates."
I finally found my voice. "I'm right here."
They all turned to look at me, surprised, like they'd forgotten I could speak.
"I didn't ask for any of this," I continued, my voice shaking but steady. "I didn't ask to be discussed like a strategy."
The woman tilted her head. "Then you should be grateful for the opportunity."
Lucien stood abruptly. "This meeting is over."
"Sit down," the man ordered.
Lucien didn't.
"I'll fulfill the contract," Lucien said coldly. "But you don't get to decide how I treat my wife."
The word wife echoed painfully in my chest.
We left before anyone could stop us.
The car ride home was silent, but it wasn't polite silence anymore. It was raw. Exposed.
"They were right," I said quietly.
Lucien glanced at me. "About what?"
"This isn't just about us anymore," I replied. "It's about power. Control. Image."
"I don't care about their opinions."
"But they control your world," I said. "And by extension… mine."
He gripped the steering wheel. "I won't let them hurt you."
"They already are," I whispered. "Just not directly."
We didn't speak again until we got home.
In the living room, I finally turned to face him. "You should end it."
Lucien froze. "End what?"
"This," I said, gesturing between us. "The pretending. The almosts. The feelings we're not supposed to have."
His jaw tightened. "Is that what you want?"
"No," I said honestly. "But it might be what we need."
He stepped closer. "You don't get to sacrifice yourself for my family."
"I'm not," I replied. "I'm choosing myself."
That hurt him. I saw it. The way his eyes darkened, the way his shoulders sagged just slightly.
"I thought distance would make this easier," he said quietly. "I was wrong."
"So was I," I admitted. "It just made it lonelier."
We stood there, inches apart, the space between us filled with everything we refused to say.
Lucien reached out, stopping just short of touching my hand. "If I ask you to stay… would you?"
The question shattered something inside me.
"I don't know," I whispered. "And that scares me."
He let his hand fall.
That night, I dreamed of a future that split in two. In one, we stayed careful and safe, slowly losing pieces of ourselves. In the other, we chose each other and paid the price.
I woke up crying.
The next morning, Lucien was gone early. A note waited on the kitchen counter.
I need time to think. Not about the contract. About us.
I folded the note carefully, my hands steady despite the ache in my chest.
For the first time, the silence didn't just hurt.
It warned me.
Whatever came next would change everything.