The marketplace was winding down, the last merchants closing their stalls as the sun dipped below the horizon. Daniel stood in the shadows of a stone archway, speaking low with one of his trusted business associates. But then a voice cut through the noise—smooth, confident, laced with arrogance.
"Daniel."
Daniel's head snapped up. Standing a few paces away was a man draped in an immaculately tailored black coat, his dark hair slicked back, a smile that never reached his eyes.
David Armani.
The two men locked gazes like wolves circling the same prey. The crowd bustled around them, oblivious to the dangerous current in the air.
"Armani," Daniel said flatly, folding his arms. "Didn't expect to see you here. Don't you usually hide in your father's shadow?"
David chuckled, a sharp, high-pitched laugh that earned a few curious stares before the villagers hurried along. "Oh, I do step out sometimes. After all, shadows can't last forever. One day they fade, and the man left standing is remembered."
Daniel's jaw flexed. "You talk too much."
"And you brood too much," David fired back casually, brushing invisible dust off his sleeve. "Tell me, Daniel… how does it feel? Playing merchant by day, king of dirt by night. Balancing two worlds without either crashing down."
Daniel's eyes narrowed. He took one step closer, lowering his voice so only David could hear. "Careful. You're standing too close to the fire. Get burned, and I won't bother putting you out."
But David only smiled wider, tilting his head like a cat toying with prey. "Fire doesn't scare me. In fact, I've always admired how it burns—consuming everything, leaving nothing but ash. Ash is pure, Daniel. No lies, no rules. Just the truth of what remains."
David's smirk lingered as he snapped his fingers. A boy, no older than twelve, hurried from the edge of the crowd, carrying a small clay pot wrapped in plain cloth. The boy set it down between the two men before scurrying off without a word.
Daniel's gaze flicked to it, then back to David. "What's this?"
"A gift," David said lightly, brushing his coat sleeve as though it were a trivial matter. "For your marriage. A gesture of goodwill, one might say." He crouched slightly, tugging the cloth away to reveal a plant with dark, waxy leaves and a bloom that looked almost too vivid, too unnatural in color. Tucked beneath the pot was a folded note.
Daniel didn't touch it. His stare stayed fixed on David.
David smiled, slow and deliberate. "Don't look at me like that, Daniel. It's beautiful, isn't it? Strong roots, lasting life. Perfect for… a happy home."
He inclined his head, inviting Daniel to read the note. The words, written in a neat hand, were simple:
For a happy home.
Daniel's jaw tightened. He knew the plant—he'd seen it before in his less lawful dealings. It was no gift; it was poison dressed in petals. He reached down, lifting the pot with one hand, testing the weight as if considering smashing it against the cobblestones. But he didn't. He simply set it back on the cloth, eyes locked on David's.
"You have a strange sense of humor," Daniel said, his voice low, dangerous.
"Humor?" David echoed, feigning innocence. "No, my friend. Just symbolism. Every home deserves something green. Something… enduring."
The crowd pressed past them, unaware of the razor-edged tension at the center of the square. Daniel finally stepped forward, so close the words hissed between them like venom.
"Careful what roots you plant, Armani. Some things don't grow where I stand."
David's grin widened, but he didn't reply. He simply tapped the rim of the pot with one elegant finger before turning on his heel and disappearing into the crowd, leaving the poisonous bloom sitting at Daniel's feet.
Daniel didn't move for a long while. The noise of the market faded into a dull roar as his mind turned, silent and calculating. Then he bent, picked up the pot, and carried it away—not because he would keep it, but because he want to destroy it , not in public .. more private , more ruthless ..to burn that thing into ashes.
-----
The library's silence was broken only by the faint scratching of a quill and the distant creak of wooden beams. Linda sat cross-legged on the cold stone floor, a lantern casting a pool of light over the worn pages of an old philosophy book. The words whispered to her heart, challenging, comforting—reminding her she was not wrong to want more.
A shadow fell across the page.
"You'll ruin your eyes reading in this light."
Her head jerked up. There, leaning casually against a pillar, was David Armani, his coat collar turned up, the glow of the lantern sharpening the sly curve of his smile.
Linda's shoulders softened with recognition. "David… you startled me."
"Forgive me," he said, lifting his hands in mock surrender, his tone warm, playful. "But I couldn't resist checking if my favorite scholar was still stealing the night away with books."
Linda laughed under her breath, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "They'll call me a thief soon. A thief of paper and ink."
"A noble kind of thief," David said smoothly, stepping closer but keeping his tone light, admiring. "Most people steal gold. You steal knowledge. Far more dangerous."
His words disarmed her. In this village where her voice was caged, here was someone calling her dangerous in a way that sounded like praise.
"I just want women to be seen as more than shadows in kitchens and corners," Linda admitted, her voice hushed, almost as though confessing a crime. "Even little girls… they're silenced before they even learn what laughter means."
David crouched beside her, lowering his voice as though they were co-conspirators. "And you're right. Entirely right. The village fears change because change breaks chains. And you, Linda…" He tilted his head, watching her with an intensity that felt oddly gentle. "…you're not made for chains."
Her heart fluttered—conflicted, confused. No one in her world ever said things like that. Not even Daniel. Especially not Daniel.
"You flatter me," she whispered, closing the book, trying to shield her emotions.
"I state truth," David countered softly, his smile widening just enough. "You deserve to be heard. And I'll always listen."
The lantern light flickered between them, and for a heartbeat, Linda felt she wasn't so alone in her rebellion.
What she couldn't see was the calculation behind David's eyes, the careful layering of trust. Every kind word was a string in the web he wove, each compliment another thread tightening around her.
"Go on," David urged, glancing at the book in her lap. "Tell me what you've been reading. Teach me something, scholar."
And Linda, starved for someone who would listen without shutting her down, smiled faintly and began to explain.
David smiled faintly, stepping closer. "you are an good teacher , linda .. you make good students if given chance" His gaze lingered just long enough to make her shift uncomfortably. "but .. let me ask you one thing , Surely someone at home must notice your nightly escapes? A husband, perhaps?"
Her breath caught. Husband.
The word rang like a bell in her mind. Her instinct screamed to tell the truth—yes, she was married. But then another fear rose just as fast: what if David spoke carelessly, or word reached Daniel? What if her secret nights in the library became public, staining his name? Or worse—what if Daniel himself discovered her disobedience this way?
Linda forced a small laugh, though her palms had gone clammy. "A husband?" she echoed, lowering her gaze to the book in her lap. "No… there's no one waiting for me. I only have these." She tapped the leather spine gently, as if to make the lie more convincing.
David's smile widened, but not in warmth. More like satisfaction. He crouched slightly, lowering his voice until it was almost a whisper. "Then the village is blind not to see your worth. A woman like you should never be left unseen, Linda."
Her heart skipped, but she clenched her jaw. There was no flutter in her chest, only unease. Still, his words sank into her ears like honey, stroking the part of her that longed for freedom and recognition.
"I'm not unseen," she replied softly, more to herself than to him. "The world just chooses not to look."
David's chuckle echoed in the hollow library. "Then let me be the one who looks."
The silence after his words pressed heavy, Linda's pulse quickening. She didn't know why, but in that moment she felt like she had just stepped closer to a cliff's edge—one wrong move and everything beneath her could crumble.
PLEASE SUPPORT,
LOVE FROM,
♡LINDA AND DANIEL♡