The grand chandelier above the living room threw scattered light across the marble floor, cold and unforgiving. Elena sat at the edge of the velvet couch, her fingers curled into the fabric as though it could anchor her trembling heart. Across from her, Adrian stood like a wall of stone—towering, distant, with his tie loosened but his expression tighter than ever.
Silence stretched between them like a battlefield no one dared to cross. The events of the charity gala earlier still pulsed through Elena's mind—his dismissive words, his refusal to acknowledge her as anything more than a pawn, the way other women whispered behind their glasses of wine.
Finally, she broke the silence.
"Why do you despise me so much?" Her voice cracked, fragile but sharp. "Is it because I wasn't the woman you chose?"
Adrian's jaw flexed. He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he moved to the liquor cabinet, poured himself a drink, and downed half of it in one swallow. Only then did he turn to her, his eyes as dark as the storm that had been raging in her chest.
"You're here because my father wanted you here," he said coldly. "Don't mistake that for love. Don't mistake my tolerance for affection."
The words sliced her open. Elena forced her lips to stay steady, though her heart screamed inside her.
"So that's it? I'm nothing but a name on a contract? A woman you tolerate until you can throw me away?"
Adrian's silence was answer enough.
Her breath hitched. "Do you realize what people said tonight? That I'm just the unwanted bride you parade around to please your father? Do you know how humiliating it is to stand beside you and feel invisible?"
His eyes flickered—just for a second—but quickly hardened again. "I didn't ask you to care about what they said. You wanted this marriage too."
Elena let out a bitter laugh. "Wanted? Adrian, I never wanted to marry a man who can't even look at me without flinching. I wanted… I wanted freedom. But instead, I'm trapped in a gilded cage, punished for something I didn't choose."
She rose to her feet, the hem of her dress brushing the marble as she faced him fully. For once, her voice didn't tremble.
"You think I'm weak because I don't fight back. But I've endured more in silence than you'll ever know. And one day, Adrian, you'll regret pushing me away."
The weight of her words hung in the air. Adrian's hand tightened around his glass until it cracked, shards pricking his skin. A drop of blood slipped down his palm, unnoticed.
He wanted to speak—to tell her she wasn't entirely wrong, that his hatred wasn't for her but for the circumstances, the betrayal of fate—but the words died in his throat.
Instead, he turned away. "Go to bed, Elena. I'm not in the mood for theatrics."
Her heart shattered all over again. She left the room without another word, her heels clicking like a metronome marking the rhythm of her fading hope.
Later That Night
Elena lay in the darkness of their bedroom, staring at the ceiling. Her chest rose and fell unevenly, memories of their confrontation playing on a loop. She had promised herself not to cry, but the tears came anyway, soaking into the pillow.
She remembered the way Adrian's gaze had softened for just a heartbeat. He wasn't as unfeeling as he pretended. Somewhere beneath that icy mask was a man battling something he wouldn't share.
But how much longer could she endure being unloved?
Sleep came in fragments. When she stirred awake near dawn, the other side of the bed was still empty.
Adrian's Struggle
Downstairs, Adrian sat alone in his office, nursing another drink. The bleeding from his palm had dried, but the sting remained. Not from the glass—but from her words.
Invisible. Humiliated. Trapped.
She was right. He had made her suffer for sins that weren't hers. But admitting that meant tearing down walls he had spent years building. Walls that protected him from the memory of the woman he once loved, the betrayal that had left him hollow.
He buried his face in his hands. The truth was simple yet impossible: Elena didn't deserve his cruelty, but giving her his heart felt like a betrayal to the ghost of his past.
Morning Light
The next morning, Elena dressed for breakfast in silence. The maids moved around carefully, aware of the tension that clung to the air like smoke.
When Adrian finally joined her at the table, their eyes met briefly, then darted away. The distance between them felt wider than the polished mahogany dining table.
Elena stirred her tea without drinking it. "I'll be going to visit my parents today."
Adrian looked up. His instinct was to refuse—control was second nature to him—but something in her voice stopped him. It wasn't a request. It was a statement of independence.
"Fine," he said, too casually.
But as she rose and walked away, something twisted in his chest. The idea of her seeking comfort elsewhere, of her smiling in a place where he wasn't, unsettled him more than he cared to admit.
A Chance Encounter
Later that afternoon, Elena's visit to her family home didn't bring the comfort she expected. Her mother fussed, her father spoke little, and whispers of disapproval lingered in every corner.
On her way out, she bumped into Lucas—her childhood friend, the boy who had once held her hand during school exams, now a polished lawyer with a charming smile.
"Elena? It's been forever!" His grin softened into concern. "You look… different. Are you alright?"
The warmth in his voice nearly undid her. For the first time in months, she felt seen.
They spoke for only a few minutes, but the comfort in his presence was undeniable. When they parted, Lucas said, "If you ever need someone to talk to… you know where to find me."
Elena smiled faintly, her heart aching with the kindness she had been starved of.
Back at the Mansion
That evening, Adrian returned earlier than usual, only to find Elena laughing softly at her phone. The sound froze him in place.
"Who were you talking to?" he asked, sharper than intended.
Elena looked up, startled. "An old friend. Why?"
Adrian's eyes narrowed, jealousy flaring though he had no right to claim it. "You seemed very entertained."
Her lips pressed into a thin line. "Maybe because he actually listened."
The words were a slap. Adrian's fists clenched at his sides, but he didn't reply. Instead, he walked past her, his silence louder than any argument.
Yet, long after, her voice lingered in his mind. He actually listened.
Closing Scene
That night, as rain lashed against the mansion windows, Elena stood on the balcony, her hair damp with the mist. The storm mirrored her heart—chaotic, restless, searching.
Inside, Adrian watched from the shadows, his chest tight. He wanted to go to her, to wrap her in his arms, to tell her he wasn't as heartless as he seemed. But fear held him back.
Elena whispered into the storm, her voice trembling yet resolute:
"One day, Adrian… you'll realize what you lost. And by then, it might be too late."
The thunder drowned her words, but Adrian felt them all the same.