Chapter 5: The Room He Never Enters
Aria didn't sleep well that night. The whispers Nathaniel left hanging in the air felt heavier in the dark.
What was behind that door?
She wasn't sure if it was curiosity or something deeper—a pull toward anything that might explain the coldness in Elias's eyes.
The next morning, the estate was just as quiet. Too quiet. A gilded prison with velvet curtains and too many rules.
Aria wandered again, this time with purpose.
She ended up back outside that same door.
Just staring at it made her uneasy.
She was about to turn away when a soft voice spoke behind her.
"You shouldn't be here."
She turned to find a woman in her mid-forties—elegant, composed. Not staff. Not a guest either.
"I didn't hear you approach," Aria said, taking a step back.
"I'm good at being quiet," the woman replied with a soft smile. "I'm Meilin. Housekeeper. Sort of. I've been with the Xians a long time."
"Do you know what's in there?"
Meilin's smile faded just a little. "You're the first person who's asked about it."
"I… I thought I was the only one who noticed."
"You're not wrong," Meilin said gently. "That room is his old music room."
Aria blinked. "Elias plays music?"
"Used to," she said. "Before everything."
"Before what?"
Meilin gave her a long, almost sorrowful look. "That's for him to tell you. If he ever decides to."
The housekeeper stepped forward and unlocked the door without hesitation. She didn't open it, but the soft click of the lock was deafening.
"You can look if you want," Meilin said, then walked away.
Aria hesitated, her fingers trembling as she reached for the knob.
Inside, dust danced in the light.
A grand piano sat in the center of the room, its cover closed, untouched. Framed sheet music lined one wall—original compositions. The shelves held old records, some classical, some jazz. A guitar rested in
She sat at the piano and gently pressed one key.
The sound echoed faintly through the room. Haunting. Lonely.
Just like her.
But the moment shattered when a shadow fell across the doorway.
Aria looked up—and froze.
Elias.
His eyes locked on hers, sharp as broken glass. Cold. Controlled. Dangerous.
"What are you doing in here?" His voice was low, but there was no mistaking the fury underneath.
She stood immediately. "I—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"
"Didn't mean to trespass into a locked room?" he cut in, stepping inside. "Or didn't mean to touch things that don't concern you?"
"I just wanted to understand," she said, voice trembling. "You… you never speak to me. I thought—"
"You thought wrong." His tone was ice. "This marriage gives you a roof over your head. Not the right to go poking into my life."
Aria's lips parted, but no words came. The man in front of her wasn't just distant. He was furious. Wounded. Guarded like a fortress with no doors.
"If you're looking for something sentimental," he said harshly, "go cry in the west wing. This room isn't for you. It never will be."
And with that, he turned away—leaving the door wide open, but slamming the distance between them shut again.
Aria stood there alone, heart pounding.
She had only touched a piano key.
But somehow, she'd struck a nerve far deeper.