MARKED IN BLOOD

episode 7

My heart jumped into my throat.

The door opened slowly.

The older maid stood there again. Behind her were the two younger ones, heads bowed as always. The older maid looked at me directly this time only for a second, but long enough for me to see something in her eyes.

Not pity. Not happiness. Just calm acceptance, like she had seen this moment many times before.

“He has come,” she said quietly.

Your husband is home will be here in a few minutes.

The words landed like stones in my stomach.

Minutes.

Only minutes.

I felt the floor should open and swallow me whole. Pull me down into darkness so I wouldn’t have to stand here in this thin silk nightgown, waiting for a stranger who was now supposed to be my everything.

I couldn’t breathe properly. My chest felt tight. My hands were cold and sweaty at the same time. I wanted to run to the wardrobe and hide behind the dresses I wanted to lock the door.

I wanted to scream that this wasn’t fair, that the blood had made a mistake, that I wasn’t ready.

But I didn’t move.

The maids stepped inside. One carried a small tray with a glass of water and a folded cloth.

The other adjusted the lamp so the light was softer, warmer, less bright.

The older maid came closer.

Drink this,” she said, handing me the glass,It will calm your nerves a little.

I took it, My hand shook so much that water almost spilled. I drank anyway small sips ,It tasted like plain water with a faint hint of something sweet, maybe honey,I didn’t care ,I just needed something to do with my hands.

The younger maid smoothed the bed covers even though they were already perfect. She fluffed a pillow. Small, careful movements. Like preparing a stage.

The older maid spoke again, voice low so only I could hear.

Breathe slowly look at him when he speaks. Do not look away. He does not like fear.

She paused.

And do not ask too many questions tonight. There will be time later.

I stared at her. My mouth opened, but no sound came out at first.

Is he… kind? I finally whispered.

The maid’s face didn’t change.

He is what the blood chose, she said.

That was all.

Then she stepped back.

The three of them bowed once together and left the room.

The door closed.

Silence again.

I stood frozen in the middle of the bedroom. The silk nightgown felt too thin. Too revealing.

Too everything.

Minutes.

He would be here in minutes.

I walked to the mirror looked at myself,Pale face. Wide eyes. Braided hair with the silver ribbon. Lips pressed tight to stop them from trembling.

I looked like a bride again.

But inside I felt like a child who had been told to play a game she didn’t understand.

I sat on the edge of the bed.

Hands in my lap. Bandaged palm throbbing faintly.

I listened.

Footsteps in the hallway.

Slow. Steady. Coming closer.

The door handle turned.

I felt like the floor really might swallow me this time.

But it didn’t.

The door opened.

And there he was.

My husband.

The man the blood had chosen.

I didn’t look up.

I couldn’t.

My eyes stayed glued to the floor, to the soft rug under my bare feet, to the tiny patterns in the silk of my nightgown. Anything but him.

What if he was old?

What if he was cruel?

What if he was a monster ,the kind that hides behind handsome words and perfect houses but hurts in the dark?

My heart pounded so loud I thought he could hear it from the doorway.

I didn’t move.

I didn’t breathe right.

I just sat frozen on the edge of the bed, hands clenched in my lap, bandage tight around my palm.

Footsteps.

Slow.

Deliberate.

Coming closer.

He stopped right in front of me.

No distance left.

I could feel the warmth from his body, the faint smell of rain and expensive cologne something clean and dark, like cedar and smoke.

I could hear his breathing steady, calm, nothing like mine.

Still, I didn’t look up.

I squeezed my eyes shut tighter.

Then he moved even closer.

So close I could feel the air shift between us.

Slowly very slowly I opened my eyes.

He was right there.

So close his face filled my whole world.

And oh my god.

He was soo

Not just handsome.

Not just nice-looking.

He looked like one of the men I used to read about in the secret novels I hid under my mattress back in Veil Lane the ones with sharp jaws, dark eyes that saw everything, hair falling just a little over his forehead, lips that looked like they could smile or destroy you depending on the mood.