behind the mask

BEHIND THE MASK /episode 8-the mask was finally opened but with a price the next day

The room felt impossibly small, but she didn’t falter. Zayne stood by the window, fingers trembling as he touched the mask he’d worn for years. He’d built walls so high even he didn’t know how to climb them—but tonight, one wall would crumble.

Her gaze met his, sharp and steady. “Take it off,” she said. No softness, no coaxing. Just a command that made his chest tighten.

He froze. The scar beneath—the jagged line from eyebrow to under-eye, the memory he’d buried—was finally exposed. He hesitated, heart hammering.

Slowly, he removed the mask.

The scar was raw, imperfect… but her eyes, those rare eyes, didn’t soften. They measured him, dissected him, and yet held something unreadable, something almost dangerous.

Her fingers stayed folded, her posture rigid. “So… this is it,” she murmured, tone flat, emotionless—or so he thought. A flicker of recognition passed through her gaze, but she didn’t flinch, didn’t move closer. She was cold… distant. Untouchable.

And yet… he felt it. Her presence alone, the intensity in her rare eyes, stirred something inside him. His chest loosened, a strange warmth spreading—he could almost feel pieces of his fear and pain knitting together.

“I’ve never… let anyone see this,” he admitted, voice low, rough with vulnerability.

Her expression didn’t soften. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, studying him like he was an interesting specimen. “I see it,” she said plainly. “But seeing it doesn’t mean anything.”

Her coldness was a shield. And he wanted to tear through it.

She stepped back, maintaining that icy distance, yet her eyes locked with his. The pull—strange, haunting, familiar—lingered, almost unbearable. Past life echoes whispered between them, but she didn’t give in to them. Not yet.

For the first time in years, Zayne felt completely exposed, and yet… drawn to her. Her chill, her untouchable demeanor—it ignited something inside him that he didn’t want to resist.

The room was silent. Scar, eyes, tension—the air between them crackled. She remained cold, unreadable, and that only made him ache more.

The moment lingered, suspended. Not warm. Not tender. Just raw, jagged, dangerous. And somehow… utterly irresistible.

*THE NEXT DAY*

Her footsteps faltered in the hallway. She wasn’t trying to eavesdrop—but the voices reached her, piercing and undeniable.

“I didn’t marry her for this!” Zayne’s voice was sharp, strained, full of anger and exhaustion.

“You don’t understand! This is for the family! You owe us!” his father barked, frustration and entitlement dripping from every word.

“I don’t care about your family! I refused, and I won’t—”

Her heart sank. The words she didn’t hear—the part where he said he refused the plan, that he never agreed to use her—were swallowed by her own shock and disbelief.

By the time the argument ended, he had stormed out. Her legs moved almost without thinking, carrying her outside.

He was already there, pacing under the pale streetlight, tense and desperate. He looked up as she approached.

Tears glistened in her eyes—she didn’t usually cry—but the realization hit her too hard. “Every moment… every moment was built up in a lie, huh?” Her voice was icy, calm, but it cut deep, sharper than any blade.

He opened his mouth, voice pained, “I… I didn’t marry you for this—”

But she didn’t hear the rest. She only heard what she thought she knew.

“Liar.”

Not just a liar—this word carried everything: betrayal, heartbreak, the fire of a hundred shattered expectations. Her hands trembled, but she didn’t reach for him. She didn’t let him touch her.

“I trusted you! Every moment I thought—” she faltered, the tears escaping despite herself. “And you… you were using me!”

His chest tightened. He wanted to grab her, to make her understand. “No! That’s not true! I never—”

But she stepped back, her icy facade settling back into place, cutting him off. She didn’t hear the truth yet—and maybe she didn’t want to.

The night wind swept around them, but it couldn’t cool the fire burning between them. Not tonight.

He stood there, chest tight, words failing him. Every instinct screamed to reach out, to explain, to touch—but she didn’t move closer. She didn’t soften. She just… stood there, arms crossed lightly, eyes locked on his, unyielding.

“My lady…” he tried again, voice low, almost pleading. “I never agreed to any of this. I refused… I never—”

She tilted her head slightly, studying him, eyes sharp like knives. Not a flicker of pity, not a shadow of relief. “Save it. Your explanations don’t matter.”

Her words were calm, precise, but they cut deeper than anything he’d heard before. Every syllable was an execution of her wrath, tempered with ice.

“I… I didn’t use you,” he whispered, taking a cautious step forward.

She didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink. “Do not speak to me. Not a word. Not a single word will fix this. You’ve lied. You’ve betrayed. That’s all I see.”

Her posture was perfect, composed, but every inch of her radiated danger. She was untouchable, and he felt it. The warmth he’d felt before—the pull of her eyes, the strange healing energy—was gone behind the glacier she’d erected around herself.

He swallowed hard, pain and desperation warring in his chest. “Please… just listen…”

Her gaze didn’t soften. Instead, she took a slow, deliberate step back, creating distance. “I heard enough. Every moment, every word you think was private… it’s all tainted. And I will not let you… not this time.”

The night wrapped around them, cold and unyielding. And Zayne… he realized, fully, that for the first time, she was not just hurt. She was untouchable. And breaking through that? He didn’t know if he could.