Chapter Three: The Cracks in Glass
"He's not here for love."
That's what Elián told himself every time he saw Lucien Vale lounging in Kairo's arms, smirking like he already owned the Laurent mansion.
But on the third night after the wedding, things shifted. Slightly. Subtly.
And nothing would ever be the same again.
---
Kairo hadn't come home the night before.
Elián waited, curled up in bed wearing one of Kairo's oversized silk shirts—left behind in the closet, forgotten, warm with scent.
He didn't expect company, but he still left the light on, thinking maybe—just maybe—his husband would come back early and look at him like something more than a price tag.
He didn't.
It was 5:43 AM when Elián heard the front doors open downstairs, the heavy click of polished shoes, and Lucien's laugh echoing through the marble halls.
They had been out all night. Again.
---
Elián stayed in bed, staring at the chandelier above him, unmoving.
He was learning the art of invisibility.
It was the only way to survive.
Until the knock came.
Soft. Cautious. Not Kairo.
Elián opened the door in silence. And there stood the butler, Jean.
> "Mr. Laurent would like to see you in the main lounge," Jean said, lowering his gaze politely. "Immediately."
That word again—immediately.
Like Elián was an assistant. Not a husband.
He nodded, swallowing his breath, and followed.
---
The lounge was alive with cigarette smoke and music.
Lucien lay draped across the velvet couch like a prince at rest, a half-buttoned shirt on, collarbone kissed red.
Kairo stood by the bar, one hand around a glass of scotch, the other scrolling through his phone like he was too tired to exist.
When Elián entered, Lucien sat up.
"Oh, look," he smiled, teeth glinting. "The husband."
Elián bowed his head. "You asked for me?"
Kairo didn't look up.
Just said coldly, "I need you to sign this."
A paper was tossed onto the table.
Elián walked forward, hesitating as he picked it up.
It wasn't a contract.
It was a non-disclosure agreement. A new one.
Kairo sipped his drink, finally meeting Elián's eyes.
"You'll be attending the gala with me Friday. I want no incidents. No scandals. No questions."
Lucien snorted. "You're dragging the boy out now? Thought you said he wasn't ready for public display."
Kairo's jaw twitched.
"I changed my mind."
---
The gala.
A charity event hosted by the Laurent conglomerate every year. High society. Cameras. Enemies pretending to be friends.
Elián didn't understand why he was being included now—unless it was just for show.
Still, he signed.
And when he looked up again, he saw it—Kairo staring at him.
Just for a second.
His gaze dropped to Elián's cheek.
The same cheek he had slapped.
Something flickered in his eyes. Guilt?
No. It vanished too quickly.
---
Lucien stood and sauntered close, brushing past Elián.
"Wear something tight," he whispered in his ear. "Let the city know what Kairo's sleeping with."
Elián flinched.
Kairo saw.
And for the first time, he said—"Lucien. Enough."
Lucien paused mid-step, turning with a sharp smile.
"Touchy, are we?"
Kairo didn't answer.
Elián excused himself and left the room quickly. His heart was hammering. But not with fear.
With confusion.
---
That night, something strange happened.
Elián was in the kitchen, barefoot, pouring himself water, when he heard quiet footsteps.
Kairo.
They stared at each other under the dim pendant light.
Neither spoke.
Elián waited for the coldness. The command. The insult.
But Kairo just said, "You eat dinner today?"
Elián blinked. "No… I wasn't hungry."
Kairo walked past him. Opened the fridge. Pulled out leftovers.
Without a word, he put the food in the microwave and leaned against the counter.
Elián stood frozen.
"You'll pass out if you keep skipping meals," Kairo said finally. "You're already too thin."
It wasn't kindness.
Not really.
But it wasn't cruelty, either.
The microwave beeped.
Kairo slid the plate onto the island and gestured.
"Sit."
Elián did.
He picked at the food slowly, aware of Kairo watching him the whole time.
"Don't be nervous," Kairo muttered. "If I wanted to hit you, I'd have done it already."
That hurt more than the slap.
Elián looked up.
"I didn't do anything to deserve that. That night."
Kairo's eyes darkened.
"I don't care what you think you deserve."
He left.
But not before glancing back once.
---
And that same week, Lucien cracked.
It started with whispers.
A photo.
Lucien—drunk, messy—kissing a woman.
Not just any woman.
The fiancée of one of Kairo's investors.
The image spread like fire through private channels.
Elián found out before Kairo did.
He overheard it—maids whispering, staff gossiping in the hall.
Lucien, the perfect lover, the untouchable golden boy, was cheating.
With a girl.
---
And when Kairo found out?
The entire mansion shook.
A glass shattered. Lucien was thrown out.
Screaming.
Begging.
And Kairo—
Kairo turned to Elián that night, eyes red, shirt half unbuttoned, hair a mess for the first time in weeks.
"You knew?"
Elián nodded.
"I overheard. I didn't want to… interfere."
Kairo stared at him for a long time.
Then said softly,
> "You should've told me."
That was the first time his voice wasn't cold.
---
End of Chapter Three.
Next: Chapter Four – "The Boy He Didn't See Coming"
Where Kairo begins to question the man he threw away… and the boy he married.