Chapter Six: Jealous Hands, Shaking Hearts
The next morning, Kairo woke to an empty house.
No sound of soft feet on marble.
No warm tea by the door.
No trace of the husband he'd grown used to ignoring.
Elián had already left.
Again.
And this time, he hadn't even told the driver where he was going.
---
At the Laurent Group headquarters, people were whispering.
Not about Kairo.
About Elián.
> "He's brilliant."
"Did you hear how he handled the CEO from Brazil?"
"Laurent's husband? He's glowing."
Kairo leaned against the glass railing above the main floor, watching from the balcony as Elián walked through the building's entrance.
He wore a storm-grey coat that kissed his knees with every step, a soft turtleneck hugging the curve of his neck, and silver glasses perched on his nose — not because he needed them, but because they made people take him seriously.
Elián was no longer hiding.
He was becoming someone.
And the world was starting to see it.
---
Three board members approached Kairo in the lounge later that day.
"Your husband is impressive," one said. "You should bring him to more meetings."
"He's certainly more approachable than Lucien ever was," another added, not noticing how Kairo's knuckles went white around his glass.
> More approachable than Lucien.
Lucien.
Kairo hadn't seen Lucien in days.
Not since the truth.
Not since that photo of him in bed with the woman from the fashion house surfaced on the blog run by The Elite Gossip Club.
Lucien hadn't even called to explain.
But Elián?
He'd been everywhere — at meetings, charity events, art galas.
Smiling. Sharp. Glorious.
And Kairo was burning.
---
That evening, Elián returned late.
Kairo was waiting in the kitchen, shirt undone, sleeves rolled, whiskey untouched beside his phone.
"You didn't call," Kairo said.
Elián paused in the doorway.
"You never asked me to."
Kairo stood. "Where were you?"
"With the board. And later at an art auction."
"You didn't think I should know?"
Elián tilted his head, expression blank. "You never wanted to know before."
A pause.
Kairo took a slow step forward. "You've changed."
"I had to."
Another pause. One that stretched like silence before a storm.
"I saw Lucien," Elián said suddenly. "At the gala last week. He didn't look heartbroken."
Kairo's jaw clenched. "You've been following him?"
Elián gave a short, bitter laugh. "No. But you've made me learn how to see what's in front of me."
Kairo felt the ground shift beneath him. The student he once pitied — the boy he married like he was nothing more than a pawn — was standing tall, straight-backed and firm, not as a husband…
But as a mirror.
And Kairo hated what he saw in it.
---
That night, Kairo dreamed of hands that didn't reach back.
He dreamed of the way Elián had looked on the dance floor — elegant and unreachable.
He dreamed of the way strangers talked about him now, with admiration and envy.
He woke up in sweat.
Alone.
The other side of the bed cold.
---
The next morning, the office was buzzing.
Elián was set to give a public speech on behalf of the Foundation — his first solo event.
Kairo had told him not to do it.
"You're not ready," he'd said.
Elián had answered with one quiet sentence:
> "I've been ready since the day you threw me into this marriage."
Now, Kairo sat in the back of the press room, hidden behind a row of dignitaries, watching as Elián took the stage.
He wore an ink-black suit. No tie. A soft pin of the Laurent Foundation shimmered at his lapel.
He began:
> "Good evening. I'm Elián Laurent. You may not know my name, but you've probably heard my silence."
The room hushed.
Elián continued.
> "I came into this world unprepared. Forced into a life I didn't choose. But sometimes… the fire we're thrown into becomes the forge that shapes us."
> "I've learned what it means to be invisible. And I've learned how to stand without being held."
> "And today, I'm not asking for space anymore. I'm taking it."
The crowd erupted into thunderous applause.
Kairo stared at him — heart racing, chest tight.
The boy was gone.
A man stood in his place.
And for the first time… Kairo felt scared of losing him.
---
After the event, as Elián stepped down from the stage, a young entrepreneur brushed past Kairo and reached for his hand.
"You were incredible," she said, eyes shining. "Do you consult privately?"
Kairo watched.
Elián smiled politely.
"I don't belong to anyone."
Not anymore.
---
End of Chapter Six.
Next up:
Chapter Seven – "He Touched Me Like I Was Glass"
Kairo starts chasing shadows of the warmth he once rejected — and Elián? He's not so easy to win back anymore. But just when the coldness seems permanent, an unexpected accident brings them face-to-face with the past.