Chapter 5: The Space Between
The quiet in the penthouse had begun to stretch. Not in a cold way — but in an unfamiliar one, like two people waiting to see who would speak first.
Ella had lived there for over a week now. She knew which hallway creaked. She knew the way the light changed in the kitchen around 4 p.m. She even knew that Xavier liked his coffee black — no sugar, no cream, no comment.
But she didn't know him.
Not really.
And it was starting to eat at her.
---
The morning started the same way it had every day: Ava's light knock, followed by a polite rundown of Xavier's schedule.
"He'll be at the King Foundation board meeting all afternoon," Ava said. "And tonight… there's a charity function. His family expects you there."
Ella didn't ask which family.
She already knew none of them had reached out.
"Do I have to talk?" she asked, setting down her tea.
Ava smiled. "You only have to look like you're happy to be there."
---
By the time the sun dipped behind Manhattan's skyline, Ella was dressed in a midnight-blue gown that clung too well to her curves. Her makeup was flawless. Her expression? Blank.
She waited in the foyer, her hands clasped in front of her, trying to keep her breathing even.
When Xavier stepped out of his room, fully dressed in a tailored black tux, he paused at the sight of her.
It wasn't much — just a slight hesitation, a flicker of something in his eyes.
But it was enough.
"You look…" he started.
She raised a brow. "Functional?"
He allowed a faint smile. "Unexpected."
They didn't say anything more.
He offered his arm.
She took it.
And just like that, they were husband and wife again — on paper, in appearance, in theory.
---
The function was more dinner than party — a quiet hall filled with too much wealth and too little warmth. Ella played her part. She smiled at the donors. She listened to polite compliments about her dress. She stood close enough to Xavier that people believed in them.
But inside, she felt like a vase on display.
Beautiful. Fragile. Untouched.
---
"Ella," said a woman with soft white hair and a sharper voice, "we didn't get a chance to meet at the wedding. I'm Marian King — Xavier's aunt."
Ella extended her hand. "It's lovely to meet you."
Marian didn't take it.
Instead, she sipped her wine.
"I suppose it all happened very quickly," Marian said lightly. "This marriage. Not exactly our style."
Ella kept her tone even. "Love rarely fits into anyone's style."
Marian blinked, caught off guard.
"I see he's taught you to be clever."
Ella smiled. "No, ma'am. I came that way."
---
Back at the table, Xavier leaned toward her. "She spoke to you."
"She did."
"And?"
Ella shrugged. "I survived."
He gave a short, quiet laugh — so rare that it made her chest ache a little.
"You're handling this better than I expected," he said.
Ella turned her head, catching his gaze. "What did you expect?"
He looked at her for a long time. Too long.
"I don't know," he admitted.
Their eyes held for a second longer, then two. The noise around them softened. The air between them shifted — not romantic, not yet — but something had moved. A wall had cracked.
Just a little.
---
They didn't speak much on the ride home.
But they didn't need to.
Xavier didn't sit at the far end of the car like usual. Their shoulders didn't quite touch — but they were close. Closer than before.
At a red light, Ella finally whispered, "You don't say much in public."
"I say what matters."
"And what matters?"
He looked at her, then away. "That you're beside me. That they see you."
Ella leaned her head back against the seat. "Sometimes I wish they'd see me — not your wife, not the woman they're trying to label."
Xavier didn't respond right away.
Then: "If I see you, does it help?"
Ella blinked, unsure how to answer.
Because the truth was… it did.
And that scared her more than anything.
---
That night, they parted at the hallway, like they always did.
Ella stopped in front of her door, turning slightly toward him. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For not letting them chew me up tonight."
Xavier nodded once.
And then, like a strange kind of promise, he said, "We'll take it one day at a time."
She gave him a faint smile. "One day at a time."
And finally — they walked away from each other without looking back.
But neither one of them truly left.
Not all the way.