Chapter 14: Doubts and Distance
939 Words
Elara couldn’t sleep.
Again.
She sat curled in the window seat of her suite, knees drawn to her chest, staring out at the dark skyline. The glass beneath her temple was cold, but not colder than the ache blooming quietly behind her ribs.
The truth had changed everything.
And yet—nothing at all.
Because Ares had admitted the inheritance.
He had admitted the secrecy.
And he had even admitted that their marriage had started as a calculated move.
But when it came to what they were now—
he had said nothing.
No promises.
No confessions.
Just a kiss that lingered on her lips like a scar she couldn’t scrub away.
⸻
She hadn’t seen him since yesterday morning, when she’d kissed him in the office, when she had leaned into him—
not for power.
Not for protection.
But for truth.
And he had kissed her back.
Gently.
Desperately.
And then… nothing.
He had left the room without a word. No explanation. No follow-up.
Not even a text.
Elara knew she should’ve confronted him again, but something inside her had locked up.
She had fought too hard for pieces of herself over the years.
She wouldn’t hand them over now, not without a fight.
She wouldn’t be the one to chase him.
Not this time.
⸻
The next morning, she slipped out before sunrise.
The guards tried to stop her—soft protests, polite concerns—but she ignored them. She needed air.
She needed space.
The city was cold, overcast, and mercifully quiet.
She wandered without direction, ducking into a quiet café just off Fifth Avenue and curling into the corner with a coffee she didn’t drink.
All around her, the world moved on.
Couples laughed.
Children tugged on sleeves.
Businessmen barked into phones.
And Elara sat, invisible in silk and sorrow, wondering when she had become someone who could miss a man who barely spoke.
When had she started confusing survival with desire?
Or worse—
Desire with love?
⸻
By noon, her phone had seventeen missed calls.
His name flashing again and again.
She didn’t answer.
She turned it off.
⸻
Back at the penthouse, Ares stood in the foyer, staring at her phone on the marble countertop.
The assistant had found it at the café.
Returned it without comment.
He picked it up, scrolling through the lock screen—
missed calls.
A calendar reminder about a charity event.
A silent photo of her smiling with children from a literacy program.
He didn’t know what hurt more—
That she’d left.
Or that she hadn’t even told him why.
He didn’t want to admit how empty the penthouse felt without her perfume lingering in the air.
Without the sound of her laughter echoing through the marble halls.
Without her sleeping in a bed just down the corridor that he never dared enter—because if he did, he might never leave.
Ares had faced enemies.
He had built empires.
He had toppled kings.
But nothing had prepared him for the battlefield of his own emotions.
Nothing had prepared him for her.
⸻
It was nearly dusk when Elara returned.
She stepped into the penthouse with quiet resolve.
No drama.
No tears.
Just bone-deep exhaustion and the quiet sting of disappointment.
She headed straight for her suite, but Ares was waiting in the hall.
He stepped in front of her before she could pass.
“You left,” he said simply.
She looked up, expression unreadable.
“You lied,” she replied.
A beat of silence.
Then: “Again.”
“I told you everything that mattered,” he said tightly.
“No,” she said, her voice cold. “You told me what made you feel in control. That’s not the same thing.”
Ares raked a hand through his hair, pacing.
“I did it to protect you,” he repeated.
“You keep saying that,” she snapped, “but the only person you’ve ever really protected is yourself.”
His jaw clenched.
“And I’m the fool who thought that kiss meant something,” she whispered.
That broke him.
He stepped closer. “It did.”
She laughed—a bitter, quiet sound.
“Then why did you disappear?”
“I was trying to think,” he said. “I needed space.”
“You needed control,” she corrected. “You always do.”
Silence stretched.
She stared at him, eyes glistening, but no tears fell.
“Did it ever matter to you?” she asked. “Me. This. Us.”
His expression faltered for just a second.
But she saw it.
The c***k.
The hesitation.
The fear.
And that was all the answer she needed.
“Don’t worry,” she said, stepping around him.
“I’m not going anywhere. Not yet. I’ll play the part.”
She stopped, glancing over her shoulder.
“But if you’re waiting for me to fall apart again… you’ll be waiting a long time.”
And then she was gone.
⸻
That night, the penthouse felt like a mausoleum.
Silent.
Still.
Too full of things unsaid.
Ares poured a drink he didn’t touch. He stood at the window long after midnight, watching the rain run in rivers down the glass.
He had built this kingdom brick by brick.
But he had no idea how to build a bridge to the one person who had made him want more than survival.
Elara had walked away from him.
But she hadn’t walked out.
And maybe—
just maybe—
that meant it wasn’t too late.
Not yet.
But he was running out of time.
⸻
- Writer
