William walked with purpose, his stride echoing along the marbled hallway while Payal followed, almost ghostlike, at his side. The hush between them heightened every sound: the soft scuff of their shoes, the distant murmur of voices from other corridors, and the subtle click of William's ring against his jacket button as he absently fidgeted—a small sign of unease he would never show outwardly.
He felt the tension radiating from her; each step she took seemed lighter, as if she were trying not to disturb the air. William's own composure wavered beneath the surface—why is she so at ease with Julian, he wondered, yet so silent and nervous around me? It should reassure him, he reasoned quietly, that Payal was adapting, that she didn't keep her guard up with everyone. But the tug in his chest lingered: envy, perhaps, or the unfamiliar ache of wanting to matter to someone new, in a family where bonds were meant to be shared, not rivaled.
Lost in these thoughts, he almost missed her voice—a brittle, breathy whisper barely louder than a sigh: "Excuse me…."
He turned, startled from his reverie by the quiver in her tone. Her eyes were wide, uncertain, searching his face for permission to speak—as if this simple question might upset a delicate balance. "William," he prompted, voice softer than she expected. "Haaa," she stammered, surprised, "William—how much further do we need to walk?"
Their steps slowed as he considered her question, recognizing the courage it took for her to address him directly. "Not far," he replied gently, lowering his voice so it would meet her where she was—timid, tentative, and brave all at once.
The corridor shifted around them: light filtered through high windows, drawing long shadows; a passing servant offered a brief nod, but quickly moved on, sensing the emotional charge. For the first time, William realized that adjusting to a polyamorous household was not just about logistics and shared spaces—it meant redefining old instincts, learning not to read distance as rejection, and allowing connections to form in their own, sometimes awkward, time.
Payal seemed reassured by his answer; her shoulders lost some of their tension, her pace matched his more closely now. William, as they walked on, wondered if he could eventually offer the same ease she found with Julian—or if letting that happen was, itself, a lesson in letting go.
the service counter's quiet alcove, Payal sat across from an elder woman whose calm presence anchored the room. The warm wood furnishings and subtle scent of jasmine lent a gentle dignity to the space. William, seated beside her, projected an elegant composure, his back straight, hands resting lightly on his knees, every movement measured and courteous. He watched over the process, signaling his responsibility as a guide and protector in these formal moments.
Meanwhile, tension simmered elsewhere. Julian paced outside, agitation visible in every flicker of his eyes—his usual scarlet irises now burning an intense blood-red. "How could William do something like that?" Julian muttered, voice tight with frustration. "I thought neither of you wanted to get married." His gaze shifted to Asra, searching for answers.
Asra met Julian's glare with an easy shrug, a half-smile tugging at his lips as if to say it was the most ordinary thing in the world. "It's normal—maybe our thoughts have changed," Asra said, voice soft but resolute, brushing past Julian with casual indifference. The hallway's mosaic floor caught his reflection as he moved, disappearing into the building's quiet depths.
Julian called after him, confusion and hurt mingling in his tone. "What do you mean, our thoughts changed?" But Asra didn't turn; the words faded into silence between heavy stone walls and polished glass—a testament to how quickly feelings and desires can shift in families built on shared but sometimes unsteady commitments.
William sat, his commanding presence filling the room. Yet internally, a storm brewed beneath the surface. "What's wrong with me?" he wondered. "Why am I behaving this way?" The fear he had always harbored about the soulmate bond was creeping in—he felt weaker, more vulnerable, and uncharacteristically drawn to Payal. It unsettled him deeply, this sense of being tethered, as though her presence was forging invisible bars around him. "I need to keep my distance from her," he thought. "I refuse to let myself be caged by anyone, to be bound by ties I can't control."
But after confronting his own emotions, William's mood unexpectedly lifted. Sitting tall and dignified, he allowed himself a small sense of relief and clarity. The struggle, while real, reminded him that acknowledging vulnerability is sometimes the key to regaining control—and maybe even strength—within the complexity of polyamorous relationships
After finishing with her application form, Payal and William stepped out of the Knowledge Sect, standing quietly as they waited for Julian and Asra to join them. The air was filled with the faint hum of distant footsteps and hushed conversations echoing softly off the polished stone walls. The subtle scent of aged parchment and warm wood lingered around them, grounding Payal in the solemnity of the moment.
Suddenly, hurried footsteps approached, their rhythm quick and urgent against the smooth floor. Before Payal could react, strong arms enveloped her in a warm embrace. The scent was unmistakably his—Julian's familiar fragrance, a blend of cedarwood and fresh musk, enveloped her senses. His embrace was firm yet gentle, radiating a comforting warmth that seeped into her skin and calmed the fluttering anxiety in her chest.
Her fingers brushed against the texture of his jacket—soft, finely woven fabric that contrasted with the steady heat of his body. The subtle rustle of his coat and the faint scent of leather filled the space between them, wrapping Payal in the familiar moment they had shared when they first met.
"Julian," she whispered, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
Asra voice, low and commanding, filled the space as he called out to Julian . The sound echoed in the corridor, a roar from behind.
Everyone looking at Asra
At once, the one man appeared, his eyes sharp and focused, converging on Julian's presence. The atmosphere around them was charged with an electric energy—a shared bond that was palpable even in silence. The soft shuffle of the his footsteps and the subtle creak of his suits punctuated the moment, a testament to the complex and intertwined relationships they shared.
Payal felt the comforting presence of their union, the sound of their voices blending with the ambient murmurs within the building. The warmth of the moment, the scents, the textures, and the quiet strength of their togetherness filled her with a newfound sense of belonging.