The jet purred softly, as though even the sky bent to the will of the Von Freulers. I sank into the leather seat, my fingers curling tightly around the armrest. Everything gleamed…the polished wood, the golden lighting, the crystal glasses, but all I could see was the hospital. The fluorescent glare, the rush of doctors, the sound of machines fighting to keep Max alive. My body was here, but my mind was still trapped in that sterile chaos.The quiet felt unbearable. It pressed against me like a weight, amplifying every heartbeat, every shallow breath.Luca sat across from me. He could have chosen anywhere. The cabin was wide enough, but he had chosen there. Opposite me. Close enough to watch me, far enough not to intrude. Deliberate, like everything he did. He waited until she settled before taking the seat beside her, crossing one leg casually, as though this routine was second nature.When the steward approached with a silver tray, Luca's voice cut through the silence."Sie nimmt den Kaffee," he said firmly. She'll take the coffee. Not a question. A decision.I stiffened at the tone, so much like the commands I had grown up with. But when he turned to me, his voice gentled. "You'll feel better. Trust me."He placed the porcelain cup in front of me himself, steadying it with his hand so it wouldn't spill. His fingers brushed the edge just a moment too long. Barely anything. But my skin burned as though he'd touched me directly.I wrapped my hands around the cup. The porcelain was warm. My pulse was warmer.For a while, neither of us spoke. The engines hummed, the glasses clinked faintly, and the silence stretched taut between us. I tried to focus on the clouds streaking past the window, but I could feel his eyes on me, steady, relentless."You always sit like you're ready to defend yourself," he said at last. His gaze remained on the twilight horizon, though I felt it cut straight through me. "Even here, when no one is watching."My breath caught. I turned to him, startled. "I'm not--" I began, but the words died. He was watching me now, his eyes unflinching, peeling me open with nothing more than silence.I should have pushed back. I'd perfected that armour over the years----sharp words, colder looks. Instead, I let out a long breath. My voice was quiet. "Habit, I suppose. It's what this family taught me."Something flickered across his face---omething I almost recognized. Understanding, maybe. Recognition. He leaned back, one arm draped along the seat, but his voice was softer now, almost as if he spoke to himself."I know that habit too well. Always proving, always enduring." His eyes found mine again, hazel depths pulling me in. Then, quieter still: "But tell me… who do you lean on, Elena? When it all becomes too much?"The question struck something raw. No one had ever asked me that. Not once. I turned quickly, staring out at the blurred reflection in the window. My lips parted, but no answer came. My throat tightened.So I did what I always do----I hid. I wrapped my hands tighter around the coffee cup, holding it as if it could anchor me.Luca didn't press. He only watched me, his silence heavy, patient. And I knew… he had already heard the answer in the way I said nothing at all.The limousine slowed to a stop beneath the golden canopy of the hotel. Even from inside, I could see the chandeliers spilling light onto the marble steps, every angle of the glass façade catching the shimmer of the lake beyond. The Baur au Lac had always been one of the family's staples, but stepping out tonight felt different. Perhaps it was because of the silence between Luca and me, or perhaps because my thoughts were still snagged on the beeping monitors in Max's hospital room.The door opened, and Luca's hand appeared. He didn't rush me----he simply waited. His palm was steady, grounding. I placed my hand in his, pretending it was only courtesy, only form. But when I rose from the seat, his fingers lingered just half a second longer than they should have. That half second pulsed through me all the way into the lobby.Inside, everything smelled of lilies and polished wood. Crystal chandeliers hung like frozen bursts of light, reflected a hundred times over in the mirrored walls. The receptionist straightened at once, her posture shifting from professional to reverent. Discretion was the currency of places like this, and they knew who we were before a word was spoken.Two golden keys slid across the counter. "Zimmer 801 und 802, Miss Elena von Freuler and Mr.Monreal," she murmured, barely audible. Two adjoining suites, private floor.Luca nodded once. "Perfect."I trailed after him to the elevator, our steps echoing against marble. The silence stretched between us, taut as a violin string. The faint tremor of the lift rising pressed against my chest, but it was Luca's nearness I felt more keenly. Not touching. Never touching. But close enough that my breath refused to steady.At the top floor, a butler awaited us. He carried himself with practiced grace, unlocking my door first. The suite opened in a soft cascade of ivory and gold: velvet armchairs by a crackling fireplace, tall windows draped in silk, and a marble table crowned with a silver tray of champagne and roses. My fingers skimmed the velvet, grounding myself."It's… beautiful," I said, though my voice sounded distant even to my own ears.The butler gave a small, knowing smile---as if he had seen a hundred versions of this same tableau before and inclined his head. "If you require anything, Fräulein." His tone carried no judgment, but the weight of his discretion pressed on me. He knew. Or thought he knew.When the door clicked shut behind him, the silence was different. Thicker.I turned, and there was Luca, standing in the doorway to his adjoining suite. His tie loosened, his shoulders carrying the exhaustion of a day too long, too heavy. Yet his eyes… softer than I had ever seen them."You should rest," he said at last. His voice was steady but low, as if speaking too loud might fracture the fragile balance between us."So should you," I replied, my words sharper than intended, though the edge dulled almost immediately. What I meant was, I see the weight you carry. I wish I could take it from you.For a moment, neither of us moved. The distance between us wasn't much, but it felt like the length of an entire life. I curled my hand tighter into the fabric of my dress, because if I didn't, I might reach for him.The champagne bottle gleamed on the table, unopened. The roses perfumed the air between us. And still, the only thing I felt was the unspoken longing, raw and restless, sitting between our adjoining rooms like a secret that refused to be silenced.
