5
1247 Words
Harper’s POV
The stranger’s deep voice lingered in the air, warm and surprisingly gentle. “May I have this dance?”
For a moment, I just stared at him. I had been invisible all evening. People passed me without a glance, too engrossed in the party, too uninterested in the bride seated alone. So the sudden attention felt strange, unexpected, almost suspicious. I instinctively opened my mouth to decline. I did not trust strangers. I did not trust anyone in this hall. Not after the day I had endured.
But before I could speak, he leaned forward slightly, hands clasped dramatically as he whispered, “Please do not say no. Just one dance. Pretty please.”
The way he said it made me blink in surprise. His voice softened into a childish plea, his expression turning ridiculously pouty. It was so out of place, so unexpected, that a laugh slipped out of me before I could stop it. A real laugh. My first one today.
I lifted a hand to cover my mouth, embarrassed yet surprised at myself. “Just one dance,” I finally agreed, shaking my head lightly.
He grinned with triumph and extended his arm. I hesitated for only a brief moment before placing my hand in his. He led me confidently onto the dance floor as a slow instrumental began to play, something soft and warm that made the entire room feel like it belonged in a Christmas movie.
He placed one hand gently on my waist and took my other hand in his. “Thank you,” he murmured. “You looked like you could use some rescuing.”
“My first impression was that you might be a kidnapper,” I said lightly.
He chuckled. “Kidnapper? Wow, I need to work on my charm.”
I laughed again, surprising myself.
As we swayed slowly among the other dancers, I finally got a good look at him. He was handsome in an easygoing, approachable way. Soft brown hair, warm hazel eyes, a wide smile that reached them. He did not have the cold superiority that most rich men carried. He felt… normal. Safe. Friendly.
Unlike Damon.
His voice dropped to a teasing whisper. “So, tell me, how does it feel being married to my unbearable cousin?”
My entire body froze.
“Your… what?” I asked slowly, startled.
He grinned and tapped his chest lightly. “I am Elijah Hale. Or Eli, if you prefer. Damon’s cousin. The fun one. The one the family actually likes. Mostly.”
My heart hammered. Damon’s cousin. A Hale. Someone in the family. I had danced straight into the arms of a man connected to Damon.
“Relax,” Eli said gently, noticing the panic forming in my eyes. “I am not here to interrogate you. I genuinely just wanted to give you a break.”
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to stay composed. “I did not know…”
“That I am a Hale? I like to keep it low profile. Otherwise people expect me to be cold like Damon.”
His tone was playful, but Harper caught something else beneath it. Familiarity. Resentment. History.
“Unbearable cousin?” I asked.
Eli snorted. “Unbearable is the polite way of saying he is colder than a freezer in Antarctica.”
I bit back the urge to defend Damon, even though I barely knew him. But something inside me reacted at the insult, maybe because I was now supposed to be his wife. Maybe because the kiss, brief as it was, had awakened something confusing. Or maybe because I could not imagine teasing a man who had suffered such a terrible accident.
Still, I simply said, “He must have his reasons.”
Eli looked at me curiously. “Most people do not defend him.”
“I am not most people,” I said quietly.
He smiled, warmer this time. “No. You really are not.”
We danced in silence for a few seconds. The lights reflected off the chandeliers, making the hall glow. People seemed happier here on the dance floor, unaware of my confusion, my fear, my secrets.
Then Eli leaned closer. “I will be honest with you. I was surprised you two went through with the wedding.”
Panic shot through me. My hand tightened on his shoulder. “Why?”
He shrugged lightly. “Esther always struck me as too high energy for Damon. I figured she would run the moment she saw the mask.”
My heart skipped a beat. “She… never saw him?”
Eli shook his head. “Not once. Damon refused. He said she only needed to know the man she would marry, not the scars on his skin. It was his way of hiding. Of healing. Or so the family says.”
My stomach churned. So Esther had not been exaggerating. Damon truly had hidden his face from her. And that mask covering the left side of his face was not for style or protection. It was to hide whatever the accident had done to him.
“And her?” I asked softly.
“She did not push to see him either,” Eli said. “I think they both did not care to know each other beyond the alliance. Which is why it shocks me that she actually showed up today.”
I stared at him, forcing a small smile. “Me too.”
Eli’s brows knitted, as if sensing something strange in my tone. For a moment, I worried he was going to question me. But instead he simply spun me softly as the music swelled.
“All I am saying is…” he said as we resumed swaying. “Whatever happened before today, Damon is still Damon. Difficult. Sharp tongued. Moody. But not cruel.”
The words startled me. “You think so?”
Eli nodded. “He hides everything behind that mask. His face. His emotions. His pain. Sometimes I think he believes the world will attack him if he shows too much. Even his family barely hears him speak these days.”
That surprised me.
Because Damon had spoken to me.
Coldly.
Sharply.
But he had spoken.
And his green eyes had held emotion. Something heavy and wounded beneath the cold.
The music faded into a soft outro.
Eli smiled. “One dance, as promised.”
He gently released my waist and stepped back. His eyes lingered on me for a moment, curiosity swirling in them.
“We will see each other around, Harper,” he said with a wink before walking away.
My heart jumped.
Harper.
He called me Harper.
Not Esther.
How did he know?
My heart raced. Did I slip? Did he notice something off? Did he simply guess? Or had he always been paying close attention? Before I could chase after him, he disappeared into the crowd, swallowed by dancers and laughing guests.
I swallowed hard and headed toward the washroom, needing a moment to think, to breathe, to compose myself. I needed privacy. A mirror. A moment away from the eyes, the music, the lies.
But the washroom was occupied.
I stood outside, waiting impatiently, my pulse still racing.
That was when I heard them.
Two women standing just around the corner, whispering loudly enough that their voices traveled through the hall.
“Did you see how closely she was dancing with another man? Such a hoe!”
- Writer
