The Language of Luxury

The quiet between us

Thiago house

The morning sunlight filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, filling the room with a warm glow.

Anabelle slowly opened her eyes.

For a few seconds, she forgot where she was.

Then the familiar cream-colored ceiling and elegant bedroom reminded her.

She was no longer in her small apartment.

She was Mrs. Adebayo.

A soft knock came from the door.

"Come in."

The door opened, revealing Clara with a bright smile.

"Good morning, Ma'am."

"Morning, Clara."

"I hope you slept well."

"I did."

Clara stepped inside, followed by two other maids carrying garment bags, fabric samples and neatly arranged shoe boxes.

Anabelle looked at them in confusion.

"What's all this?"

"The wedding planner arrived about thirty minutes ago."

"The wedding planner?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"The wedding is only a few days away, so today's schedule is for your dress fitting."

Anabelle blinked.

"I almost forgot..."

Clara smiled.

"I don't think Mr. Thiago did."

Just then, another knock came.

A middle-aged woman dressed in an elegant navy suit entered with two assistants behind her.

"Good morning, Mrs. Adebayo."

"My name is Mrs. Benson."

"I'll be overseeing every detail of your wedding."

She placed a leather folder on the table.

"We have a busy morning."

Before Anabelle could respond, Mrs. Benson gently opened the folder.

"Three gowns have been prepared."

"The first is classic."

"The second is modern."

"The third was designed specifically for you."

"For me?"

Mrs. Benson nodded.

"Mr. Adebayo requested that your dress shouldn't simply be beautiful."

"He wanted it to reflect your personality."

Anabelle looked surprised.

"He... said that?"

"Yes."

"He also asked that comfort should never be sacrificed for appearance."

For a moment, Anabelle didn't know what to say.

She had expected Thiago to leave everything to the planner.

Instead...

He had noticed details she hadn't even thought about.

Clara carefully unzipped the first garment bag.

A breathtaking ivory gown slowly appeared.

Anabelle instinctively covered her mouth.

"It's beautiful..."

"I know," Clara whispered excitedly.

"I almost screamed when I first saw it."

The room filled with quiet laughter.

Mrs. Benson smiled.

"Shall we begin?"The first gown was carefully lifted onto the fitting platform.

Its satin fabric shimmered softly beneath the morning light, while delicate lace traced the sleeves and neckline.

"It's beautiful," Anabelle whispered.

"It is," Mrs. Benson replied. "But beautiful isn't always the right choice."

Clara stepped forward with a smile.

"May I help you, Ma'am?"

Anabelle nodded.

A few minutes later, she emerged from the dressing room.

The room fell silent.

Even the assistants exchanged impressed glances.

Mrs. Benson slowly walked around her, studying every angle.

"The fit is almost perfect."

She adjusted the shoulder slightly before stepping back.

"What do you think?" Anabelle asked Clara.

Clara's eyes sparkled.

"You look like a princess."

Mrs. Benson smiled.

"You look elegant."

"But..."

Anabelle laughed.

"There's always a 'but,' isn't there?"

"There is."

Mrs. Benson folded her arms.

"This dress is beautiful..."

"...but it doesn't tell your story."

Anabelle looked at herself in the mirror again.

She understood exactly what the planner meant.

It was stunning.

Yet somehow...

It didn't feel like her.

"Let's try the second one."

The second gown was lighter, with a modern silhouette and a long flowing train.

It made Anabelle look taller.

More confident.

Clara clapped her hands excitedly.

"This one!"

Mrs. Benson smiled but shook her head.

"It suits Mrs. Adebayo."

"It doesn't suit Anabelle."

Anabelle looked at her reflection.

Again...

She agreed.

It felt as though she was wearing someone else's dream.

Mrs. Benson turned to the final garment bag.

"This," she said carefully, "is the one Mr. Adebayo personally approved."

She slowly unzipped the cover.

The room became quiet.

Unlike the first two gowns, this one wasn't covered in heavy lace or sparkling crystals.

Its beauty was understated.

Soft ivory fabric flowed effortlessly to the floor.

The neckline was graceful.

The sleeves were delicate.

Every detail seemed simple...

...yet impossible to ignore.

Anabelle stared at it.

"It's..."

She couldn't find the words.

Mrs. Benson smiled knowingly.

"Would you like to try it?"

Anabelle nodded.

Several minutes later...

The dressing room door opened.

Clara was the first to look up.

Her mouth slowly fell open.

Mrs. Benson smiled.

"I thought so."

Anabelle stepped toward the mirror.

The gown fit as though it had been made only for her.

Elegant.

Graceful.

Comfortable.

She didn't feel like she was pretending to be someone else.

She simply felt...

...like herself.

Just then, a knock sounded at the bedroom door.

"Come in," Mrs. Benson called.

The door opened.

Thiago stepped inside.

He had changed into a charcoal-grey shirt with black trousers, his sleeves neatly folded to his forearms.

He paused for only a second when his eyes met Anabelle's.

The room instinctively fell silent.

Mrs. Benson smiled.

"Mr. Adebayo."

"We were hoping to get your opinion."

Thiago looked at Anabelle.

Then at the dress.

"It fits."

That was all he said.

Mrs. Benson chuckled.

"I'll take that as approval."

Thiago gave a slight nod.

"It is."

Without another comment, he turned to leave.

As he reached the door, he stopped.

"The fitting is at two this afternoon."

Mrs. Benson blinked.

"Excuse me?"

"The shoes."

"They arrived."

"I had them delivered to the east fitting room."

Mrs. Benson smiled.

"Thank you."

Thiago acknowledged her with a slight nod before walking out.

The moment the door closed, Clara looked at Anabelle with wide eyes.

"He noticed the shoes..."

Mrs. Benson laughed softly.

"And he remembered the delivery time."

Anabelle looked toward the closed door.

For someone who barely spoke...

...Thiago noticed far more than he ever let on.By noon, the fitting room looked as though a fashion studio had taken over the mansion.

Fabric swatches covered one table.

Shoes of different designs were neatly arranged along the wall.

Jewelry boxes sat open, their contents sparkling under the crystal chandelier.

Clara carefully placed another pair of heels on the carpet.

"These are comfortable, Ma'am."

Anabelle slipped them on before taking a few steps.

"They are."

"But I think the first pair matches the dress better."

Clara smiled.

"I was thinking the same thing."

Mrs. Benson looked up from her notebook.

"Good. Keep the first pair."

She made a note before turning to Anabelle.

"We're almost done."

"Only your veil and bouquet remain."

Just then, another maid entered.

"Ma'am, lunch has been prepared."

Mrs. Benson closed her notebook.

"Perfect timing."

"I'll see you again this afternoon."

One after another, the staff excused themselves, leaving only Clara behind.

"I'll walk you to the dining room."

...

The dining room was just as quiet as every other part of the mansion.

The long dining table had been set for two.

Anabelle looked around.

"Does Mr. Thiago always eat here?"

Clara nodded.

"Unless he's working."

"And today?"

"He said he'd join you."

Almost on cue, steady footsteps echoed through the hallway.

Thiago walked in.

Every maid in the room greeted him politely.

"Good afternoon, Sir."

He acknowledged them with a slight nod before taking his seat.

No grand greeting.

No unnecessary words.

Just quiet respect returned with quiet respect.

One by one, the maids left the room.

Only a butler remained to serve the meal.

For a while, the only sounds were the gentle clink of cutlery against porcelain.

Anabelle glanced at him.

"I saw the dress you approved."

Thiago looked up briefly.

"Did you like it?"

"I did."

"It felt... comfortable."

"Good."

She smiled to herself.

Of course that was his answer.

After another moment of silence, she spoke again.

"I never thanked you."

"For what?"

"The dress."

"And... clearing your schedule."

Thiago placed his fork down.

"I told you."

"I don't do things halfway."

She nodded.

"I know."

"But you didn't have to postpone work."

"It'll still be there next week."

His answer was simple.

As though postponing meetings worth millions was no different from moving an appointment.

Anabelle couldn't help smiling.

"You really don't know how to make something sound romantic."

Thiago looked at her.

"I wasn't trying to."

That made her laugh.

It was the first genuine laugh she'd had since everything began.

Thiago watched her quietly.

He didn't smile.

But the corner of his eyes softened ever so slightly before he continued eating.

Neither of them noticed Clara standing just outside the dining room.

A small smile spread across her face.

Perhaps...

This marriage wasn't going to be as cold as everyone imagined.After lunch, Thiago excused himself.

"I'll be in my study."

Anabelle nodded.

"Okay."

He gave a slight nod in return before walking away.

The dining room became quiet once again.

Clara appeared a few moments later.

"Mrs. Benson asked me to let you rest for an hour before the afternoon fitting."

Anabelle smiled.

"I don't think I've done this much trying on of clothes in my entire life."

Clara giggled.

"It'll be worth it."

The two women walked through one of the long corridors of the mansion.

Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, painting warm patterns across the polished marble floor.

Anabelle slowed her steps.

"This house is... quiet."

Clara looked around.

"It usually is."

"No television?"

"There is."

"No music?"

"Sometimes."

"No one talking?"

Clara laughed softly.

"Everyone knows their responsibilities."

Anabelle smiled.

"I think I'd get lost here."

"You almost did yesterday."

The two of them laughed.

As they continued walking, they passed a wall filled with framed photographs.

Anabelle stopped.

Every frame showed a different moment from Adebayo Group.

Award ceremonies.

Factory openings.

Business conferences.

There were pictures of Frederick.

A few of Diana.

Even one of Thiago receiving an international business award.

But...

There wasn't a single childhood photograph.

Not one.

She frowned slightly.

"Clara..."

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"Has Mr. Thiago always lived here?"

"I'm not sure."

"I've only worked here for two years."

"Oh."

They continued walking until they reached a small glass room overlooking the gardens.

A grand piano sat in one corner.

Books filled another.

"It's beautiful."

"It was Madam Diana who designed this room."

Anabelle slowly walked to the bookshelf.

"You read?"

Clara asked.

"Sometimes."

She ran her fingers across the books before pulling one out.

Inside the cover was a small handwritten note.

«'Knowledge is the one investment no one can steal.'»

There was no signature.

Anabelle smiled.

"That sounds like Thiago."

Clara nodded.

"It does."

The room became quiet again.

Outside, gardeners carefully trimmed the flowers while the fountain flowed peacefully.

For the first time in days...

Anabelle felt calm.

Maybe...

Just maybe...

This mansion wouldn't feel like a prison forever.A soft knock interrupted the peaceful silence.

"Mrs. Adebayo?"

Mrs. Benson stood at the entrance with a warm smile.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you."

"Not at all."

Anabelle carefully returned the book to its place before walking over.

"Is it time already?"

Mrs. Benson nodded.

"The invitations have arrived."

...

The main sitting room had been transformed into a temporary workspace.

Elegant invitation cards were arranged neatly across the large coffee table.

Each one was sealed with a deep emerald-green wax stamp bearing the Adebayo family crest.

Anabelle picked one up carefully.

Her name.

His name.

Side by side.

Thiago Adebayo

Anabelle Alexander

She stared at it for a long moment.

"It still feels strange," she admitted.

Mrs. Benson smiled knowingly.

"It won't for long."

A member of the planning team stepped forward.

"We've prepared three invitation designs."

"The final decision belongs to both of you."

Almost on cue, Thiago walked into the room.

Everyone greeted him.

"Good afternoon, Sir."

He acknowledged them with a slight nod.

Mrs. Benson handed him the three samples.

"Which one do you prefer, Mr. Adebayo?"

He didn't answer immediately.

Instead, he handed them to Anabelle.

"You choose."

Anabelle looked at him.

"I thought you'd already have one in mind."

"I do."

"Then why not choose it?"

"Because you'll be sending it too."

Mrs. Benson exchanged a small smile with one of her assistants.

Anabelle looked through the designs one after another before stopping at the simplest one.

Cream-colored paper.

Elegant gold lettering.

No unnecessary decorations.

"I like this one."

Thiago glanced at it once.

"So do I."

Mrs. Benson smiled.

"Then we'll proceed with this design."

As everyone returned to work, Anabelle quietly slipped one invitation out of the stack.

She traced her father's name in her mind.

He should have been one of the first people to receive it.

Her smile slowly faded.

Thiago noticed.

He didn't ask why.

He already knew.

He walked over and stopped beside her.

"He'll receive one."

Anabelle looked up.

"My father?"

"Yes."

She searched his face.

"You still believe you'll find him?"

"I don't believe."

"I will."

His voice was calm.

Certain.

It wasn't confidence.

It was conviction.

Anabelle looked down at the invitation again before carefully placing it back on the table.

For the first time since her father disappeared...

She allowed herself to hope.