Denial
829 Words
đź“– CHAPTER FOUR
Ellora didn’t go looking for him immediately.
She told herself she wouldn’t.
That whatever she thought she felt in that corridor was nothing more than proximity… pressure… misinterpretation.
But the problem with telling yourself something often enough, was that eventually, you started noticing the cracks in it.
By the third day, she stopped pretending.
Her father’s rules hadn’t changed.
If anything, they had tightened.
More staff in the house.
More quiet instructions passing through corridors.
More eyes that pretended not to be watching her.
Which only confirmed one thing;
whatever she had walked into wasn’t finished.
And neither was he.
She found the opening through absence.
She always did.
Late afternoon.
Shift change.
A narrow window where control loosened just enough to slip through without triggering attention.
Ellora moved through the lower level of the building without hesitation this time.
Not curiosity this time.
But wit intentions .
The room wasn’t the same.
Not the one she had walked into before.
Smaller.
More confined
No visible violence.
Just a door slightly open at the far end of the hall.
And a guard who wasn’t paying enough attention.
She didn’t stop.
Didn’t hesitate.
She pushed the door open.
He was inside.
Alone.
Not restrained.
Not beaten anymore.
But not untouched either.
Bruises still marked his face.
A cut along his lip, healing but not gone.
He stood near the window, hands in his pockets like this was just another room he had chosen to be in.
Like nothing about his situation required urgency.
Ellora stepped inside.
Closed the door behind her.
The sound of it was quiet.
But final.
He didn’t turn immediately.
Which told her one thing
he had already known she was there.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said.
His voice was steady.
Low.
Collected.
Ellora watched him for a second before responding.
“That seems to be a recurring statement lately.”
A pause followed
Then he turned.
And this time, she saw him properly.
No distance.
No blur.
No interruption.
Just him.
Something in her chest tightened.
Not sharply.
But enough to disrupt the control she was used to holding.
She stepped closer.
Slow.
Steady.
Like approaching something that might shift if she moved too fast.
“Look at me,” she said.
He already was.
But this time
he didn’t look away.
The silence stretched.
Not uncomfortable.
Not uncertain.
Just loaded.
Ellora studied him carefully.
Every detail.
Every line.
Every shift in expression.
And then..
something clicked.
Not fully.
Not cleanly.
But enough.
“I know you,” she said.
He didn’t react.
Didn’t flinch.
Didn’t even blink differently.
“No,” he replied calmly. “You don’t.”
Ellora’s gaze hardened slightly.
“That’s not true.”
A pause.
“You’re mistaken.”
Her jaw tightened.
“It was you.”
Something shifted then.
Subtle.
Composed.
But real.
He stepped closer.
Not aggressively.
Not threatening.
Just enough to close the distance between them.
“You walked into a room you weren’t meant to see,” he said quietly.
“You saw something you don’t understand.”
A beat.
“And now you think that makes it familiar.”
Ellora didn’t move.
Didn’t step back.
“That’s not what this is,” she said.
Another silence.
Shorter this time.
Sharper.
His eyes held hers.
And for a brief second, something behind them changed.
Recognition.
Gone almost immediately.
“Go back upstairs,” he said.
She didn’t move.
“You’re avoiding the question,” she replied.
“I’m answering it,” he said. “Just not in a way you like.”
Ellora exhaled slowly.
Her control slipping—not outwardly, but internally.
Because the certainty was building now.
Not fading.
“You’re lying.”
heart beat.
“Yes.”
The answer came so easily it almost unsettled her more than denial would have.
Ellora blinked once.
Thrown, not by the lie, but by the admission of it.
“Then why?” she asked.
He didn’t answer immediately.
Didn’t look away either.
Because the real answer wasn’t safe.
And they both knew it.
“Because it doesn’t change anything,” he said finally.
Ellora studied him.
Longer this time.
More carefully.
“No,” she said quietly.
“It changes everything.”
His expression reset.
Clean.
Calm.
Closed.
“Not for me.”
The words landed heavier than they should have.
Because they sounded true.
Ellora held his gaze for one second longer.
Then stepped back.
She didn’t argue again.
Didn’t push further.
Because she understood something now
he wasn’t refusing to answer.
He was choosing not to.
And that meant there was something worth hiding.
She turned toward the door.
Opened it.
“Ellora.”
She paused.
Not turning.
“If you keep coming back here,” he said,
“you won’t like where it leads.”
She glanced over her shoulder.
Just slightly.
“Then maybe you should stop being where it leads.”
And then she walked out.
- Writer
