Then…The lights went out.
A blackout.
The library swallowed them.
No lamp. No corridor glow. No system buzzing in the distance.
The estate had stopped breathing again.
Akhile froze, her heart rate surging.
She heard Nathaniel inhale a sharp, controlled breath, as if his body reacted before his mind did.
In the dark, they were no longer a CEO heir and a princess. They were two bodies sharing one pocket of silence. Nathaniel didn't move closer. He didn't touch her. He waited. And that's the restraint which undid her, the only way to humanly respond.
Akhile's hands trembled as she rose slowly from her chair. Not because she had decided to do something reckless, but because her body seemed to move ahead of her thoughts, pulled by something deeper than logic.
"Nathaniel," she whispered.
His voice came quietly from the dark. "Princess Cora."
Her name sounded different in darkness. Less formal in a way... More human.
Akhile inched toward him. Then another inch.
She could barely see him, only the outline of his shoulders, the shape of his head turned toward her, his warm breath caressing her.
"I don't know what I'm doing," she admitted, voice unsteady.
Nathaniel didn't respond with a command. He responded with honesty.
"Neither do I," he said.
That was all it took.
Akhile lifted her hand and found his jaw in the dark, fingertips brushing stubble that wasn't perfectly groomed like the rest of him. Her palm warmed against his skin.
Nathaniel's breathing got heavier.
Akhile's heartbeat thundered. She leaned in, hesitant for a single breath and then she kissed him. The first contact was soft, a test, like curiosity. Then it deepened, because he reciprocated.
Nathaniel's hands came to her waist, careful at first, as if he were asking permission with touch alone. When she didn't pull away, his grip tightened slightly, one hand slipping to the small of her back, grounding her, anchoring her.
Akhile's mouth landed against his, her breath tangled with his breath.
Her body remembered loneliness. Her body remembered dying unseen.
And now her body remembered this.
For a moment, everything in her went quiet except the pulse at her temple and the violent beating of her heart.
Then the lights returned.
The lamp flickered on at the table, the overhead fixtures reignited, the corridor glow spilled through the crack beneath the doors.
And there they were exposed.
Akhile froze mid-kiss.
Nathaniel's eyes flung wide open.
They both saw themselves.
Her hands casping his jaw. His hands at her waist. Their mouths pressed together.
The humiliation hit like cold weather.
Akhile pulled back, her breath uneven.
Nathaniel's hands released her as if he received rejection at an audition.
There was a long silence.
The estate resumed breathing.
The intercom did not speak, but the lights tracked movement again, and that was enough.
Akhile's throat tightened. "I…," her eyes widened at the realisation sinking in.
Nathaniel's jaw clenched. "Go."
He knew if she stayed, it would happen again.
Akhile didn't wait. She turned and fled.
Her feet slapped against wood and stone as she hurried through corridors that brightened too quickly, giving her away. Her robe clung to her skin. Her mouth still tingled. Her body still burned.
By the time she reached her wing, her hands were shaking so badly she could barely steady herself.
The door opened automatically.
"Good evening, Princess Cora," the intercom whispered, obedient as always.
Akhile didn't answer.
She stumbled into her bathroom and turned the shower on so cold it stole her breath.
Water struck her skin like she was in a punishing ritual.
She stood there, trembling, trying to scrub the feeling of him off her mouth, off her waist, off her memory.
But she couldn't.
Because the feeling wasn't only physical.
It was the weight of his truth.
It was the fact that he had finally let her into the part of him that wasn't corporate, that wasn't polished, that wasn't public.
He had trusted her.
And she had kissed him because of it.
Akhile pressed her forehead against the tile in the shower, eyes shut.
"Stupid," she whispered. "I'm so stupid."
But the word didn't fit.
Because she wasn't ashamed of wanting him. She was ashamed of how quickly she wanted to belong to him, to be accepted by him. As if she finally belonged to an elite club.
She climbed into bed soon after, her hair damp, and body still shivering from the shower and the thrill of it all, but the heat beneath her skin refused to leave. Her blood was hot.
She tried to sleep.
The ceiling simulated stars.
The estate remained quiet.
But her mind kept replaying the moment his hands had held her waist, as if he had been trying to anchor her to the world.
As if he had been trying to keep her from vanishing.
Somewhere beyond her window, Neilelis Industrial continued to grind its gears in the maroon darkness.
Akhile finally drifted into shallow sleep.
And then she woke.
03:00.
There was no intercom announcement. No gentle suggestion. No "sleep efficiency" report…not yet.
Just a violent pull in her chest. A longing so sharp it felt like hunger, like a fever, like something in her blood had recalibrated.
Akhile sat up, breath shallow, eyes wide open in the darkness.
Her body ached.
She stared at the door, as if it were the only thing standing between her and relief.
She tried to lie back down, closing her eyes.
But the longing did not soften.
It only intensified.
Akhile swung her legs over to the side of the bed.
The floor warmed beneath her feet, encouraging her pursuits, unaware of the war inside her.
She tied on her robe, and stepped into the corridor.
The lights brightened in sequence, her route becoming a confession.
Her heart knocked like a hammer.
Her mouth still remembered him.
And somewhere in another wing of this estate, Nathaniel was awake too, with his own silence pressing against him like a second skin.
Because the truth had been spoken.
And now she could not pretend she was untouched by it.
She reached the door to Nathaniel's wing.
Paused.
Her hand lifted toward the panel,
And the endurance ended before she could knock.