Eldermere had always been strange at night — too quiet, too still. That evening, as Damian walked Elara home, the sea wind carried whispers that seemed almost human.
“Your house is haunted,” he said with a faint smile.
“So is my heart,” she replied softly.
They walked in silence until they reached her gate. The moment hung between them — electric, forbidden, familiar.
“Elara,” he said finally, voice low. “If I ever loved you…”
“You did,” she whispered. “With everything you had.”
He touched her cheek, and something inside him broke open — flashes of memory: her laughter beneath moonlight, her tears on their wedding night, the vow whispered before the accident.
He leaned in, his breath mingling with hers.
“I remember,” he said hoarsely. “God, I remember.”
Their lips met — a kiss both tender and desperate, the kind that carried years of silence and longing.
When they broke apart, she whispered, “You shouldn’t have come back.”
“Then why do you tremble when I touch you?”
She smiled sadly. “Because I never stopped waiting.”
---
But happiness in Eldermere never came without a shadow. That night, as Damian returned to the manor, a figure stood in the hall — his mother, Margot Voss, draped in black silk.
“You found her,” she said coldly. “I warned you to leave the past buried.”
“You lied to me,” he growled.
“I saved you,” she snapped. “That woman is a curse. Her sister’s death nearly destroyed this family. Do you think it was an accident?”
Damian froze. “What are you saying?”
“She brought death into this house once. She will again.”
He stared at her, fury burning in his chest. “Maybe the curse was never her, Mother. Maybe it was you.”
Margot’s eyes darkened. “You’ll regret defying me again, Damian. You always do.”