The letter weighed heavier than it should have. Linda sat on the edge of her bed, the parchment trembling faintly in her hand. Again and again her eyes traced the careful curves of David's writing, as though if she stared long enough, the words would unravel their hidden meaning.
It was impossible not to feel the warmth buried in the ink — the way his sentences carried not accusation but understanding. I won't let your fire slow down.
Her fire.
She pressed her lips together, torn. No one had ever spoken to her that way, not even Daniel. To him, her fire was trouble, rebellion, something to be tamed before it embarrassed him before the village. But this stranger — or perhaps not a stranger anymore — he spoke of her hunger for knowledge as if it were something precious. Something worth protecting.
And yet… David Armani.
The name itself rattled inside her like a whisper she shouldn't follow.
Linda set the note on her lap, her hands clasped tight. Her breath felt heavy in her chest. "What am I doing?" she whispered to the empty chamber. She should burn the letter. She should march straight to Daniel and confess everything. But even as the thought came, so did the terror of his fury. His voice, sharp as a whip. His disappointment. His punishment.
So instead, she folded the parchment and slipped it beneath her pillow, hiding it away as though that could hide her heart's unrest.
-----
Dinner was thick with silence. The golden glow of oil lamps reflected against the polished wood of the long dining table, but it did nothing to warm the cold air between them.
Daniel ate methodically, his every motion precise, calculated. The scrape of his knife against the plate sounded louder than thunder to Linda's ears. She tried to focus on her food, but the weight of the hidden letter pressed against her ribs like a stone.
Her husband's eyes flicked up once, sharp and assessing. She nearly dropped her fork.
"You're quiet tonight," he said at last, his tone flat.
Linda forced a small smile. "Just tired. The chores, the… heat."
Daniel studied her for a long moment before returning to his plate. "Hm."
That single sound burned more than any insult. It was suspicion clothed in indifference. He knew something was stirring in her — maybe not the truth, but enough to unsettle him.
She dared not meet his eyes again. Her hands shook as she reached for her cup, nearly spilling the water. The silence clawed back, thicker than before.
And yet, in that silence, she thought of David's words again. Don't come to the library tonight. We can meet at the riverbank.
Her heart thudded painfully against her chest. The two men in her life, Daniel and David — one at her table, the other in her mind. One chained her with rules, the other tempted her with freedom.
When dinner ended, Daniel excused himself to his study, leaving Linda to clear the table. She stood alone, the clatter of dishes echoing in the vast hall, and she wondered if Daniel had noticed the storm inside her.
----
Night fell heavy over the village. The air was cool, the distant chirp of crickets marking the hours as lanterns winked out one by one across the houses.
Linda stood before her mirror, her red cloak draped across her arms. Her reflection wavered in the lamplight — wide eyes, trembling lips, a young woman on the edge of choice.
The cloak felt heavier tonight, as though it carried every rumor, every whispered accusation of the "female thief." Perhaps it was foolish. Perhaps David's note was nothing more than a snare, another cage in disguise.
But her hunger burned stronger than her fear. The thought of history books, of pages filled with knowledge she had never touched — it was enough to drown out her doubts.
She fastened the cloak around her shoulders, the hood casting a shadow over her face. Her heart pounded so loudly she was sure the walls themselves could hear.
For a long moment she lingered at the doorway, her hand against the wood, torn between duty and desire. Daniel wasn't in home in nights , the fact she always wonders where he goes, but her guilt gnawed from keeping away from him.
And yet, she opened the door.
The night greeted her with silence, the cool wind brushing against her flushed cheeks. She tightened the cloak, clutching it to her chest as though it could shield her from the weight of her decision.
Her footsteps were light, cautious, the gravel path crunching softly beneath her slippers. Every shadow seemed to watch her, every rustle of leaves a warning. Still, she pressed forward, past the sleeping village, toward the silver shimmer of the riverbank.
"With trembling resolve, Linda wrapped her red cloak tightly around her shoulders and stepped out of the house."
PLEASE SUPPORT ,
LOVE FROM,
♡LINDA AND DANIEL ♡