Chapter 3
886 Words
The cry of a rooster tore through the fragile quiet of dawn—sharp, insistent, impossible to ignore.
Pale sunlight slipped through the curtains, stretching across the disordered bed until it found Elora’s face. Her eyes opened slowly, but there was no softness in them. No rest.
Only a storm she could no longer keep contained.
Beside her, Windsor shifted.
“Honey… good morning,” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep—but underneath it, there was something else.
Satisfaction.
Certainty.
“Last night was… great.”
Elora smiled.
Or rather—her lips did.
Because the feeling didn’t reach her eyes.
“Good morning,” she replied quietly.
Her fingers tightened against the sheets, unnoticed.
Windsor sat up, stretching like a man who had finally secured something he’d been waiting for. Like everything had fallen into place.
Like nothing was wrong.
“I’ll be changing your last name to mine on all your certificates,” he said casually. “And we’re going on a honeymoon.”
The words hit like a spark in dry grass.
Elora turned sharply.
“Honeymoon?” The word slipped out before she could catch it. “Why? Why should we go?”
Windsor looked at her then—really looked.
Steady.
Unreadable.
“This is an arranged marriage,” she continued, her voice tightening despite her effort to stay calm. “We don’t love each other. So why are you acting like we do?”
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Pressing.
Not peaceful—suffocating.
“Yes,” Windsor said finally, his voice low, controlled. “It is an arranged marriage.”
He stood, the morning light sharpening the angles of his face. For a brief moment, he didn’t look like the man she had married.
He looked like someone else entirely.
“I signed a contract,” he continued. “Gave it to the Matthew family.”
A pause.
“They gave me a daughter in return.”
Elora’s chest tightened.
Not because she didn’t know.
But because hearing it said out loud—
Made it real.
Made it irreversible.
“We could divorce now,” Windsor added quietly.
Something flickered in Elora’s eyes.
A fragile, dangerous flicker.
But then—
“But we won’t.”
The words cut through that flicker before it could become anything.
He turned back to her.
And this time—
There was no distance in his gaze.
“Because from the very first day I saw you…” he said slowly, stepping closer, “something changed.”
Elora’s breath caught.
No.
No, it didn’t.
That day—
“You ran into me,” he continued. “Spilled a drink. Gave me a handkerchief.”
His eyes locked onto hers.
“And I remembered you.”
Her heartbeat stumbled.
That was impossible.
Because that memory—
Didn’t belong to her.
“And these past two weeks…” his voice softened, but the intensity grew sharper, more dangerous, “living with you… whatever that feeling was—it didn’t fade.”
He stopped right in front of her.
“It grew.”
His hands came to rest on her shoulders.
Warm.
Steady.
Claiming.
“Elora…” he said, quieter now, almost as if he were asking for something instead of taking it. “Make space for me in your heart.”
Her throat went dry.
“Just a little.”
A pause.
Then—
“I love you.”
The words didn’t land gently.
They struck.
Like thunder splitting the sky open.
Everything stilled.
The sunlight felt colder.
The air heavier.
Even the sound of the outside world seemed to retreat.
Elora stared at him.
But inside—
Nothing was still.
Love?
Her thoughts spiraled.
How can he love me… when I’m not the one he was to marry?
Her chest tightened painfully.
Because the truth clawed at her—
He wasn’t supposed to marry me.
He was supposed to marry Matilda.
Her fingers curled slightly.
Then why…
Why does he look at me like I’m the one he’s been waiting for?
“This is… hard to believe,” she said slowly, her voice fragile, controlled.
But inside—
The truth screamed louder.
And then—
Windsor stepped even closer.
Close enough that she could feel the warmth of him, the weight of his presence pressing against her already unraveling thoughts.
“You don’t have to believe it,” he said softly.
A faint smile touched his lips.
“I’ll prove it to you.”
Something about the way he said it—
Wasn’t comforting.
It wasn’t gentle.
It felt like a vow.
A dangerous one.
Elora swallowed.
Elora’s breath hitched.
Her eyes widened slightly.
Because suddenly—
Something didn’t add up.
Not Windsor’s feelings.
Not the marriage.
Not even the contract.
But something deeper.
Something hidden beneath everything she thought she understood.
Her gaze slowly lifted back to Windsor.
And for the first time—
She didn’t just see a man in love.
She saw a man who believed in a memory that might not be real.
And that meant only one thing.
Either—
Windsor was lying.
Or—
Someone had rewritten the truth.
Her pulse pounded violently.
Because if he truly believed she was the girl from that night—
Then where…
Was Matilda?
The question lingered like a shadow.
Dark.
Growing.
Unavoidable.
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