1:stars when she's near?
Louise’s POV
My husband calls for me.
Yes, I’m Louise, twenty four years old, and married to an i***t of a man who somehow won the genetic lottery. Good looks, expensive suits, and a charming smile. Unfortunately, personality wasn’t included in the package.
We live in Kensington Manor, an estate tucked away in the English countryside where elegance drips from every wall. Ivy climbs ancient stone, fountains sing in the gardens, and every room looks as though it belongs inside a museum.
Tonight, the fire crackles softly inside the grand library, filling the room with warmth while rain taps gently against the towering windows. Golden light dances across shelves lined with centuries of books.
People would kill for this life.
I used to think I was lucky too.
The Kensington family ranks among the ten wealthiest families in the world, and my parents have been close friends with them for decades.
After graduation, all I wanted was to pursue my passion for art. I wanted paint beneath my fingernails instead of diamonds around my neck. I dreamed of galleries, exhibitions, and creating something that belonged to me.
My mother had different dreams.
Apparently, remaining unmarried in your mid twenties was considered a catastrophe.
So they dressed me like the perfect bride, placed a smile on my face that wasn’t mine, and marched me down the aisle until I whispered those three dreadful words.
“Yes, I do.”
Sometimes I still wonder why I didn’t burst into flames the moment I reached the altar.
Three years have passed since that wedding.
Three years of pretending.
Three years of sleeping beside someone who has never truly looked at me.
I’ve never known what it feels like to be cherished.
To be someone’s first choice.
To be loved.
Perhaps I’m the problem.
Perhaps I simply expect too much.
Books, however, have never disappointed me.
Books rescued me from loneliness when conversations failed.
Books wrapped themselves around the broken pieces of my heart whenever silence became unbearable.
Without them, I think depression would have swallowed me whole.
To everyone else, I have the perfect life.
Beautiful husband.
Beautiful home.
Unlimited wealth.
Beautiful lies.
⸻
The library door opens.
Dorian Kensington walks inside carrying a crystal snifter filled with amber brandy.
As always, he looks immaculate.
Tailored navy suit.
Perfectly styled hair.
That practiced smile capable of fooling almost anyone.
Authority follows him wherever he goes, though most of it comes from inherited money rather than earned respect.
He notices me curled beneath a blanket on the sofa, completely absorbed in my novel.
He lets out an amused snort.
Honestly…
I still have no idea what he actually wants from me.
He smiles.
The sort of smile that appears warm on the surface but hides manipulation underneath.
Years of marriage have taught me the difference.
The Scene
Dorian: “Ah, there you are, my love. Enjoying your evening?”
I close my book halfway and glance toward him.
Louise: “Very much so. This book is quite captivating.”
He swirls the brandy in his glass.
Dorian: “I see. Well, I have some news that I think you’ll find even more captivating.”
I raise an eyebrow.
Louise: “Do tell… dearest.”
His smile widens.
Dorian: “My sister, Rose, has arrived. Remember? The one who just finished her culinary degree in Italy?”
For a brief second, my heart forgets how to beat.
Rose.
I haven’t heard that name spoken aloud in years.
A thousand memories rush back before I can stop them.
Childhood laughter.
Endless teasing.
One stupid argument.
An heirloom necklace.
Silence.
I blink.
Louise: “Rose? I haven’t seen her in years…”
Dorian: “She wrote saying she wanted to reconnect and show off her culinary skills. I thought it would be lovely to have her for dinner tomorrow night.”
A knot forms inside my stomach.
Time doesn’t always heal wounds.
Sometimes it simply teaches people how to hide them.
Louise: “I don’t know, Dorian. It’s been a long time… and that little argument we had still bothers me.”
He sits beside me.
The leather sofa sinks slightly beneath his weight.
His hand gently covers mine.
Anyone watching would think this was affection.
I know better.
Dorian: “Nonsense, my dear. That was long ago. Surely time has healed old wounds. And wouldn’t you like to taste the magic she brought back from Italy?”
I let out a quiet sigh.
Perhaps he’s right.
Perhaps I’ve held onto guilt for too long.
Louise: “I suppose… But what if things are still awkward? She’s not a child anymore. She’s mature now.”
He squeezes my hand.
Dorian: “I have faith in you, Louise. Family should be cherished. Give her a chance. Who knows? You might rediscover a bond you thought was lost.”
His words linger.
Rediscover.
A dangerous word.
I smile faintly.
Louise: “Very well. I’ll do it for you, Dorian. But if she brings up that old business about the heirloom necklace…”
He laughs.
Dorian: “Let bygones be bygones, my love. Now, shall we toast? To family, forgiveness, and Italian food?”
Despite myself, I chuckle.
Louise: “To family, forgiveness, and hopefully food that doesn’t set off the smoke alarm like my soufflé did last time.”
He laughs louder.
Dorian: “To that. And to a wonderful evening with my sister.”
Crystal meets crystal.
The soft clink echoes through the library.
A toast to tomorrow.
Neither of us knows how much our lives are about to change.
