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Chapter Sixteen: A Crack in the Ice
Elena didn't expect anything to change.
Not really.
One conversation didn't undo weeks of silence, or the sharp edge in his voice, or the way he still watched her like she might vanish—or bite.
But the next morning, something was different.
The breakfast table was quiet. The usual spread—coffee, bread, fruit. But there was also something else.
A single book. Her book.
The one she'd been reading in pieces, always picking it up and putting it down because she couldn't focus.
It was resting on the table, open to the page she'd left it on.
She froze.
Aiden was already seated. No phone in his hand this time. Just a cup of black coffee and the unreadable expression he wore like armor.
She sat down slowly. Looked at the book. Then at him.
He didn't explain it.
Didn't say I saw it lying around and thought you might want it. Didn't offer a word.
But he didn't have to.
It was the first gesture that wasn't about power. Wasn't about control.
Just... presence.
"Thanks," she said quietly.
He nodded once. Took a sip of coffee.
The silence that followed wasn't tense.
It was new.
---
Later, Elena wandered into the kitchen—no reason, just movement.
Ashley was there, finishing up the dishes. She didn't speak much, always quiet, efficient. The staff here knew better than to talk unless spoken to.
But today, Elena asked.
"Did Mr. Black say anything to you this morning?"
Ashley paused. "Just that you liked your coffee with almond milk. Said to make sure it was stocked."
Elena blinked.
She hadn't said that out loud. Not to Aiden. Not once.
"Okay," she said.
Ashley gave a small, polite smile and turned back to the dishes.
Elena walked out, unsettled—but not in the way she used to be.
---
That afternoon, she got a call.
The gala had been rescheduled. Something about logistics. A week later than planned.
Not a big deal.
But it meant she had an afternoon open.
She debated reading. Going out. Calling someone—not that she had anyone to call, not anymore.
Eventually, she wandered toward the piano room.
She hadn't gone in since the day she arrived. It felt... off-limits somehow. Like a part of the house that still belonged to the woman who was supposed to be here.
But today, she stepped inside.
The room was sunlit. Clean. Quiet. The keys were untouched.
She sat. Lifted the lid. Placed her fingers gently on the keys.
She hadn't played in years. But her body remembered.
Soft chords filled the space. Low. Slow. Hesitant.
Then—
"You play."
She turned sharply.
Aiden stood at the door, watching.
"I didn't mean to interrupt," he added, voice lower than usual.
Elena shook her head. "You didn't."
He stepped in. Not too close. Just enough to listen.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Debussy," she said. "Clair de Lune."
He nodded. "Beautiful."
She raised an eyebrow. "Didn't think you'd know it."
He looked almost amused. "I'm not completely uncultured."
She didn't respond. Just kept playing.
A minute passed. Then another.
He stayed.
When the song ended, she didn't look at him.
She just said, "Why did you stock the almond milk?"
He didn't answer right away.
Then: "Because you never finished your coffee."
She looked at him.
"And that mattered to you?"
Aiden exhaled. "It didn't used to."
That landed somewhere in her chest.
Not heavy. Just unexpected.
He turned to go. But before he left, he paused.
"You play well," he said.
She watched him disappear down the hall.
And for the first time since she arrived, the walls didn't feel quite so close.
---
That night, she passed his office.
The door was open again. Aiden was there, jacket off, sleeves rolled up. Working. Focused.
She stopped.
He looked up.
"Elena," he said, like it was normal. Like saying her name didn't cost him anything.
She stepped in. "I wanted to say something."
He set down his pen. And gave her his attention,he looked at her like what she had to say was more important.
And it did something to her..
"I don't need almond milk," she said. "Or books left open."
"Alright." he said softly,his eyes somewhat looking like melted ice
"But I noticed."
His brow furrowed slightly. "Noted."
She smiled, just a little. "That's my line."
That earned a small breath of a laugh from him. Brief. Real.
She turned to go.
"Wait," he said suddenly.
She stopped.
He reached into the drawer. Pulled out a small velvet box.
Her stomach dropped.
"I'm not proposing," he said dryly. "Relax."
She blushed bright red at being caught but still stepped closer. He opened the box.
Inside was a necklace. Simple. Delicate. Silver chain. No diamonds. No branding.
Just a tiny charm—a sliver of a moon.
He looked at her. "I was going to give it to you after the gala. Thought it might look good with the dress you didn't choose."
She didn't speak.
"You don't have to wear it," he added quickly. "It's not about that."
She took it from the box, holding it carefully.
"Why a moon?" she asked.
Aiden shrugged. "You said you liked watching the city at night. Thought it made you feel free."
She looked at him sharply.
"I listen," he said. "Sometimes."
Elena swallowed. Clasped the chain around her neck. It was light. Barely there. But she felt it.
"Thank you," she said, voice soft.
Aiden didn't smile. But something in his eyes shifted.
Then, quietly, she added:
"Ypu don't have to—-."
He stiffened. Just for a second.
Then nodded once."but I want to" Like the words had weight. Like he felt them.
She left him in the quiet.
This time, it didn't feel like walking away.
It felt like leaving space.
And when she reached her room, she stood by the window, fingers brushing the charm.
Not owned. Not bought.
Just seen.
Maybe for the first time.
--