The night stretched endlessly across the Reid mansion, every chandelier extinguished one by one until silence ruled the halls. Elena stood by her window, her reflection merging with the darkness outside. The moonlight painted her face pale, accentuating the storm in her eyes.
It was supposed to be her wedding night.
Yet instead of tender whispers and soft laughter, the air between her and Alexander was nothing but ice.
She had been waiting for him—half out of duty, half out of a desperate hope that maybe, just maybe, he would set aside his coldness for one night. But when the sound of footsteps finally reached her ears, the rhythm was unhurried, almost dismissive.
The door opened.
Alexander stepped in, his tall figure framed by the hallway light before the door clicked shut. His tie was already gone, his shirt collar slightly open, revealing a glimpse of the strong lines of his neck. His expression, however, was the same: detached, unreadable.
"You're still awake," he said, as if she were a nuisance.
Elena clasped her hands in front of her, her pulse quickening. "It's our wedding night."
His gaze swept over her, lingering only for a second on the silk nightgown she had changed into. No warmth touched his eyes. "And?"
Her throat tightened. "And most couples… would spend it together."
Alexander gave a short, humorless laugh. "We are not most couples."
---
He crossed the room to the couch and sank into it, pulling out a file from the briefcase he had brought in. Paper rustled as he flipped through it with complete disregard for her presence.
Elena's heart sank. "You're really going to work now?"
He didn't look up. "Work doesn't stop because of a ceremony."
Her voice quivered, but she fought to keep her composure. "I left everything behind for this marriage. The least you could do is acknowledge me."
Finally, his eyes lifted, sharp as blades. "Don't mistake sacrifice for love, Elena. You came here because your family needed you to. Don't pretend it was for me."
Her breath caught. The truth in his words cut deeper than cruelty.
"Yes," she admitted softly. "I didn't marry you for love. But that doesn't mean I want to live like strangers."
For the first time, silence lingered between them—not empty, but heavy. His gaze softened for a fleeting moment, as though something in her voice struck him. But the moment was gone before she could grasp it.
"You'll have your own room," he said flatly. "Don't expect me to play the role of husband. Sleep well."
He returned his focus to the documents, his dismissal louder than any shout.
---
Elena turned away, blinking back the sting of tears. She walked slowly to the bed, slipped under the covers, and faced the wall. The silence pressed on her ears until her heart felt like it might burst.
Minutes crawled into hours. The rustle of papers eventually ceased, and the sound of his steady breathing filled the room.
She dared to glance over her shoulder.
Alexander had fallen asleep on the couch, his arm draped carelessly over the backrest, his expression unusually peaceful. In sleep, the harsh lines of his face softened. He looked… almost human.
Almost warm.
Elena's chest ached. If he could stay like that—unguarded, gentle—maybe she could survive this marriage.
But when morning came, she knew his mask would return.
---
The next day began with the same cold routine. Breakfast was silent except for the clink of cutlery. Alexander read the paper, Elena sipped her tea.
But this time, she didn't let silence win.
"Why did you agree to marry me?" she asked suddenly.
He froze for a fraction of a second, then folded the newspaper slowly. "Because it was convenient."
Her fingers tightened around her teacup. "Convenient?"
"Yes. Your family needed saving. Mine needed an obedient wife who wouldn't ask questions." His eyes met hers, hard and calculating. "Don't flatter yourself. You were chosen for practicality, not affection."
The words stabbed deep, but Elena forced herself to hold his gaze. "Maybe one day, convenience won't be enough."
A shadow flickered across his expression, but he pushed back his chair and stood. "Don't test me, Elena. You won't like what happens if you do."
He left the dining hall without another word.
---
That afternoon, Elena wandered into the mansion's library, desperate to escape her thoughts. Towering shelves filled with books stretched in every direction, the air thick with the scent of paper and ink. She traced her fingers along the spines, finding comfort in the silence.
Then her eyes caught a particular shelf near the far corner. Unlike the others, its books were newer, untouched. She reached for one, but before her fingers could brush the spine, a sharp voice cut through the air.
"What are you doing here?"
Elena spun around, startled. Alexander stood in the doorway, his eyes narrowed dangerously.
"I—I was just looking," she stammered.
His jaw tightened. "That section is off limits."
Her brows furrowed. "Off limits? Why?"
"That's none of your concern."
Anger flared in her chest. "Everything in this house is supposed to be mine too now. Why do you treat me like a trespasser?"
He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. "Because you are."
The words hit her like a slap.
Her lips trembled, but she refused to back down. "Then why marry me at all if you see me as nothing but an intruder?"
His eyes locked on hers, burning with something she couldn't decipher—anger, pain, or something else entirely. For a moment, he seemed on the verge of answering. But then he turned abruptly and walked out, leaving her with her questions echoing in the silence.
---
That night, Elena lay awake again, staring at the ceiling. The mansion was beautiful, but every corner held secrets. Secrets Alexander guarded fiercely. The west wing, the restricted books in the library, the cold distance he forced between them—each piece whispered of a man haunted by something he refused to share.
And despite the pain, despite the cold, Elena found herself wanting to know.
Not because she wanted his love. Not yet.
But because somewhere beneath his walls, she sensed a truth—a hidden warmth waiting to be uncovered.
And she swore silently to herself: She would find it