CHAPTER 10
1364 Words
Chapter 10 — The Weight of Unspoken Promises
The rain had not stopped since evening.
It fell with a mournful rhythm, as if the sky itself was grieving something lost and never spoken of. Inside the estate, the atmosphere was quiet, still—too still, like the calm before something inevitable. Shadows danced along the walls, cast by the fireplace that crackled in the vast parlor where Luire stood alone.
She wore a navy blue silk dress, long sleeves brushing her wrists, the hem grazing her ankles. It was the kind of dress meant for quiet dinners and wine glasses—meant for two people who were supposed to be husband and wife.
But Kael wasn’t there.
He hadn’t returned home since early morning, and no message had followed his absence. Luire didn’t ask. She had long learned that silence had become their language—a bitter one that tasted of regrets and things they no longer dared to say.
Today marked one year since their contract marriage began.
Not that it meant anything. Not to Kael. Not anymore.
She ran her fingers slowly along the edge of the grand piano. Dustless. Everything here was always perfect—except the one thing that truly mattered.
Her heart ached not because Kael forgot. He remembered. He always remembered dates, details, duties. But remembering didn’t mean he cared. That was the difference between Kael and Eion.
Eion.
The name drifted into her mind like forbidden music, soft and tempting.
He had written her again. A letter hidden within the pages of a book he once gifted her—Leaves of Winter. A foolishly poetic move. And yet, it made her tremble more than any of Kael’s cold gazes ever could.
“If love was never meant to be easy, then why does it feel so cruel to keep pretending?”
—E
She shut her eyes.
“Stop it,” she whispered to the silence, hugging herself tighter. “You made your choice, Luire. You walked into this.”
But tonight, the silence was too loud to ignore. She turned and stepped into the hallway, barefoot, the marble floor cool against her skin. The walls echoed the click of a grandfather clock and her own breathing.
Then—quiet footsteps behind her.
She froze.
"You're still awake."
A voice. Calm, deep. Cold.
Kael.
Luire turned slowly. He stood at the far end of the corridor, removing his coat, drenched slightly from the rain. Water dripped from his hair to his collar. He looked... exhausted.
But still, so unreachable.
"You’re late," she said softly, almost surprised by the sound of her own voice.
“I didn’t know we had plans.” He didn’t sound cruel. Just tired. Just Kael.
She looked away. “Of course we didn’t. That would be too personal, wouldn’t it?”
He paused. “It’s just a date on a contract.”
Her chest tightened. So he had remembered.
“Right,” she said, walking past him. “Then forget I said anything.”
But just as she brushed by, his hand gently caught her wrist.
It was the softest touch he had offered in weeks.
"Luire," he said. Her name sounded foreign in his mouth, like something precious he had forgotten how to hold.
She turned her head slightly, not enough to meet his eyes.
“Do you… regret this?” he asked.
She blinked. The question struck deeper than she expected.
“Regret marrying you, or regret lying to myself?”
Silence stretched between them, heavy, taut like the air before thunder.
Kael slowly let go of her wrist.
“I’ll have your revised contract reviewed by tomorrow,” he said instead, voice clipped now. "I assume you still want to shorten the terms.”
Luire inhaled sharply. “That’s not—”
“It’s fine,” he cut in. “You don’t need to explain. You’ve been...distant too.”
It wasn’t anger in his voice. It was something worse.
Resignation.
She stood in place long after he disappeared down the corridor, his footsteps fading like echoes of a promise no one dared to speak.
---
The next morning came with a pale grey sky. The rain had quieted, but its scent lingered in the wind.
Luire stepped out into the garden, wrapped in a cream shawl. The roses hadn’t bloomed yet—it was too early in the season. But she didn’t come for the flowers.
She needed air.
And space.
And maybe... a chance to feel again.
“Luire.”
She turned.
Eion stood by the gate, a small umbrella in his hand, his other gripping the handle of a satchel. His coat was dark, his expression unreadable, but his eyes—his eyes were the same.
Warm.
Alive.
“You came,” she said, voice barely a breath.
“I shouldn’t have.” He stepped closer, slowly, carefully, like approaching something fragile. “But I had to.”
He stopped in front of her. Neither of them moved. The space between them felt both dangerously small and unbearably wide.
“I read your letter,” she said.
“And?”
She closed her eyes. “It’s too late, Eion.”
He laughed bitterly. “You said that a year ago. And I believed you. I tried to move on. But when I saw your face again at the gallery last month, I knew I was still lying to myself.”
“Don’t,” she said quickly. “Please, don’t make this harder than it is.”
“I won’t ask you to leave him. I know what you sacrificed. I know what you traded for your family’s safety, for your father's debts, for your mother's care.” His voice cracked slightly. “But I need you to know that I never stopped waiting. Not really.”
Tears welled up in her eyes. “Eion…”
“If you look me in the eye right now and tell me you feel nothing, I’ll walk away. I won’t come back.”
His words hung in the air like thunder.
Luire looked at him—really looked.
And she said…
Nothing.
Because what could she say?
That her heart beat differently when he was near?
That her dreams still replayed that kiss beneath the autumn leaves two years ago?
That even now, standing in this cold, wet garden, it was Eion she thought of when her fingers touched the piano?
But none of that could change the fact that she had signed a contract.
A marriage built not on love, but duty.
So she turned away.
And walked back into the house.
---
Kael was waiting in the study when she entered.
He held a file in his hand—papers. The revised contract.
"You’re back early," he said, tone as flat as ever.
“I went to the garden.”
“I noticed.” His gaze flickered toward the window. “You weren’t alone.”
Her pulse quickened.
“I didn’t invite him.”
“I didn’t say you did.” His voice was unreadable, but something beneath it cracked.
“You saw us?” she asked.
“I heard enough.”
Luire swallowed. “Kael, nothing happened.”
“I know.” He stood and walked toward her, holding the folder out.
She didn’t take it.
Instead, she asked, “Do you hate me?”
He blinked.
“What?”
“For thinking of someone else,” she said softly. “For… not being able to give you what a wife should.”
Kael stared at her for a long time.
Then, he said quietly, “No.”
She felt her knees weaken at the simplicity of his answer.
“Then why… why do you act like you don’t care?”
He looked away.
“Because if I let myself care,” he said slowly, “I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop.”
Luire’s breath caught.
Kael placed the contract file on the table, then turned back to her.
“You’re free to choose, Luire. You always have been.”
And with that, he left.
But this time, she knew...
He was hoping she would follow.
---
- Writer
