Chapter 9: The Art Of Breaking Walls
943 Words
The air in the Castillo estate felt different that evening—thicker, heavier, charged with something Kaelith couldn't quite define. Maybe it was the way the golden chandeliers cast elongated shadows against the walls, or how the silence felt heavier after her morning conversation with Lysander.
She couldn’t stop thinking about it.
He had let his guard slip—just for a moment. She had seen it, that flicker of something raw when she brought up his paintings. He had been genuinely caught off guard.
And that intrigued her more than it should.
Kaelith sat in the vast, dimly lit library, fingers tracing the rim of a crystal glass filled with red wine. She hadn’t touched it. Instead, she let her eyes roam the endless shelves of books, the worn leather spines, the scent of aged paper mixing with the faint aroma of Lysander’s cologne that still lingered in the room.
She wasn’t sure why she had come here. Maybe because it was the only place in this massive estate that felt remotely warm, lived-in. Human.
She sighed, pulling a random book from the shelf, flipping through the pages without really reading.
Then, the door creaked open.
She turned, her breath catching slightly when she saw him. Lysander.
Still in his suit from earlier, the top buttons of his shirt undone, sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal the strong lines of his forearms. His tie was gone, a rare sight, making him seem less untouchable.
His gaze flickered to the untouched wine glass, then back to her.
“Drinking alone?”
Kaelith smirked. “That implies I’m drinking at all.”
Lysander walked further into the room, his presence commanding yet effortless. He didn’t sit, just stood near the bookshelves, running his fingers over the spines as if searching for something.
“Do you come here often?” she asked, watching him.
He shrugged. “It’s quiet.”
Kaelith tilted her head. “Do you like quiet?”
There was a pause before he answered. “I used to.”
She frowned. “And now?”
Lysander exhaled, pulling a book from the shelf. He didn’t open it. “Now, it feels like a reminder.”
She didn’t need to ask of what.
He was used to solitude. But the kind that wasn’t by choice. The kind that came from building walls so high no one dared to climb them.
Kaelith leaned back against the couch. “You know, for someone who claims to dislike company, you’re not leaving.”
His lips twitched, but he didn’t look at her. “Maybe I just don’t trust you alone in my library.”
She scoffed. “Afraid I’ll burn it down?”
His gaze met hers, something unreadable flickering in his dark eyes. “No. Afraid you’ll find something you’re not supposed to.”
The air shifted, tension threading between them like an unspoken dare.
Kaelith held his gaze, unwavering. “Like what?”
Lysander set the book down and moved toward her, slow and deliberate.
She didn’t move, didn’t back away, even as he stopped just a breath away.
His voice was quiet, but it held weight. “You tell me, Kaelith. What is it you’re trying to find?”
Her throat tightened, but she refused to let him see it. Instead, she smirked, tilting her head up at him.
“Maybe I just like getting under your skin.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked. “You enjoy pushing people, don’t you?”
She leaned forward slightly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Only when they push back.”
For a moment, neither of them moved. The room felt smaller, the space between them charged with something neither was willing to name.
Then, Lysander exhaled, stepping back, severing whatever had been building.
He ran a hand through his hair, suddenly looking exhausted.
Kaelith studied him. He was tired—not just physically, but in a way that went deeper. A weariness that had nothing to do with his responsibilities and everything to do with the walls he carried around himself.
She surprised herself when she spoke again. “Do you ever let anyone in, Lysander?”
His expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes flickered.
“No.”
A simple, final answer.
Kaelith swallowed. She should leave it at that. Shouldn’t press further.
But she did.
“You let me in today.”
Silence.
Then, he turned away, reaching for the bottle of wine. He poured himself a glass, taking a slow sip before speaking.
“That was a mistake.”
The words hit harder than she expected.
Kaelith sat up, gripping the arms of the chair. “Why?”
Lysander didn’t look at her. “Because you’ll expect more.”
Her chest tightened. He was shutting her out.
Again.
And damn it, that shouldn’t hurt. It shouldn’t.
But it did.
Kaelith stood, closing the distance between them before she could stop herself. “Maybe I will.”
He tensed but didn’t turn.
She inhaled. “But maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.”
His grip tightened around the wine glass. His knuckles turned white.
For a second, she thought he would say something. That he would turn around, meet her halfway.
But then, he exhaled sharply, shaking his head.
“Go to bed, Kaelith.”
Her stomach twisted.
And for the first time, she didn’t have a witty remark.
Because she realized something.
Lysander Castillo wasn’t just guarded—he was terrified.
Of what, she didn’t know.
But she was going to find out.
Even if it meant breaking his walls down, one piece at a time.
- Writer
