Chapter 2
892 Words
Elora stepped out of the bathroom slowly, the faint scent of soap trailing behind her like a quiet shield. The blue lace nightwear clung to her skin, soft yet unsettling, as though it revealed more than it covered. The room was dim, shadows pooling in the corners.
Too quiet.
The ticking wall clock sounded louder than it should.
Windsor lay on the bed, his back turned.
Still.
But not asleep.
She knew.
“Windsor…” Her voice came out softer than she intended. Careful. Measured. “The Matthew family wants me to change my last name on all my certificates.”
No response.
She stepped closer and sat at the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping slightly beneath her weight. Her fingers hovered before lightly tapping his shoulder.
“I know you’re awake.”
For a second—
Nothing.
Then suddenly—
He turned.
Fast.
His hand shot out, gripping her neck—not crushing, but firm enough to steal her breath. Elora gasped, her body stiffening as he pulled her closer. His face hovered just inches from hers.
Too close.
Too sudden.
“Stop—what are you doing?” she whispered, her voice trembling despite herself.
His eyes locked onto hers.
Dark.
Searching.
“We’re married,” Windsor said quietly, but something heavy dragged beneath the words. “Two weeks, Elora.”
His thumb brushed lightly against her throat.
“Two weeks… and you still act like a stranger.”
Her pulse thudded wildly.
“This isn’t what we agreed on,” she said, trying to steady her voice, even as her fingers tightened against his wrist.
For a moment, he didn’t move.
Then slowly—
His grip loosened.
But he didn’t let go completely.
“In the bathroom,” he continued, his voice lower now, more dangerous in its calm, “you said something.”
Her heart skipped.
“You said the one I wanted refused me.”
A pause.
His gaze sharpened.
“But I don’t remember wanting anyone.”
Silence crashed between them.
“I don’t know any Matthew daughters,” he added, each word precise. “So tell me—who exactly did I come to marry?”
Elora froze.
Not outwardly.
But inside—
Something cracked.
A flicker crossed her eyes—gone too quickly to name.
“My family arranged everything,” Windsor continued, his voice tightening. “They didn’t give me a name. Just a command.”
His face moved closer, studying her like a riddle.
“And then there was you.”
Her lips parted, but nothing came out.
“It’s fine,” she finally said, forcing a smile. “What matters is that it’s done.”
But even she didn’t believe it.
And Windsor—
Definitely didn’t.
The air shifted.
Changed.
Before she could retreat, he leaned in again—this time slower. Intentional.
His fingers brushed her arm.
A spark.
Unwanted.
Confusing.
“Let me in, Elora,” he murmured, his voice softer—but heavier somehow. “If everything else is fake… let this part be real.”
Her breath hitched.
He lowered his head briefly near her neck, inhaling.
“You smell like you don’t belong here,” he whispered.
The words sent a chill through her.
Not desire.
Not comfort.
Something else.
Something wrong.
Then suddenly—
He moved.
Pressing her gently—but firmly—onto the bed.
Elora’s heart raced.
“Windsor…” she whispered, gripping the sheets. “Be careful…”
He paused.
Just for a second.
Something flickered in his eyes—
Hesitation.
Doubt.
Then—
Gone.
The lights clicked off.
Darkness swallowed everything.
Time blurred.
The room filled with tension—thick, suffocating, alive.
Not comfort.
A collision of two people who didn’t understand each other… yet were bound together.
Elora shut her eyes tightly.
Trying not to think.
Trying not to feel.
Trying not to remember—
But then—
Pain.
Sharp.
Real.
Her eyes flew open.
“Windsor—” her voice broke. “It hurts…”
Everything stopped.
Immediately.
The shift was so sudden it felt unreal.
Windsor pulled back, his breathing uneven now.
Not controlled.
Not calm.
Something had changed.
He sat up quickly, dragging her up with him.
And then—
He saw it.
The sheets.
Stained.
Proof.
His entire body went still.
Too still.
Elora clutched the duvet around herself, confused, shaken—
But Windsor wasn’t looking at her anymore.
He was staring at the bed.
At the truth.
At something that didn’t fit.
Didn’t make sense.
Because in that moment—
A realization hit him.
Cold.
Violent.
Impossible.
His jaw tightened.
Slowly… dangerously… he turned back to her.
“You said,” he began, his voice no longer the same, “that you were just the ‘unwanted daughter’.”
A pause.
His eyes darkened further.
“So tell me, Elora…”
His next words landed like a blade.
“Why did they send someone untouched… to a marriage that was supposed to be a transaction?”
Elora’s breath caught.
Because she understood what he was really asking.
Not about her innocence.
Not about the marriage.
But something far deeper.
Far more dangerous.
Who… was she really meant to be in this house?
And why did it suddenly feel like—
She had just stepped into a role meant for someone else…
Or worse.
- Writer
