CHAPTER THREE: "BETWEEN SILENCE AND STARES
1052 Words
The morning sun cast a golden glow through the tall windows of the Stanford estate’s grand dining room. Aria moved quietly between the chairs, adjusting place settings and ensuring every detail was flawless. Madam Lavine had been clear—today’s breakfast had to be perfect.
She felt it before she saw it.
A presence.
When she looked up, Ethan was already seated at the far end of the table, back straight, fingers lightly resting on the linen napkin. He hadn’t made a sound entering. His gaze flicked toward her once, then returned to the untouched glass of water before him.
Aria dipped her head and stepped aside.
Moments later, the room filled with the sounds of footsteps, voices, and laughter.
Daniel strolled in, still in pajama pants and a loose shirt, his hair slightly tousled in a way that probably took effort. He gave a grand stretch before sinking into a chair beside Ethan.
“Morning, cousin,” he said cheerfully, lifting a glass. “Looks like we’re being spoiled today.”
Ethan offered no reply.
Daniel’s gaze found Aria.
“And good morning to you, Aria,” he said with a lazy grin. “I dreamt of coffee, and behold—you appear like a vision.”
She offered a polite smile and poured coffee into his cup. “Would you like milk or sugar, sir?”
“Neither,” he replied, eyes lingering on her face. “You’re sweet enough to balance it out.”
She blinked but said nothing, stepping away.
Ethan spoke suddenly, his voice low but clear. “Daniel.”
The name was a warning.
Daniel chuckled, not even glancing his way. “Just saying good morning.”
Breakfast proceeded with casual conversation, most of it between Daniel and Madam Lavine. Ethan remained mostly silent, eating in silence, glancing occasionally out the window.
Aria didn’t dare look at him. But she felt him.
Later that morning, the staff was given a brief break. Aria returned to her small quarters to freshen up and catch her breath. She sat on the edge of her bed, running a hand through her hair, willing her heart to slow.
Why do I care what he thinks? she asked herself.
But there was no answer.
Just the memory of his eyes—gray and deep, like a winter sky about to snow.
Suddenly, a sharp knock echoed against her door.
“Aria!” one of the maids called. “Madam wants you in the front parlor. Now.”
She stood quickly, smoothing her uniform. When she arrived, she found Madam Lavine speaking to the housekeeper and motioning toward a silver tray.
“Take this to Mr. Ethan’s study,” the housekeeper said, her tone brisk. “And don’t linger.”
Aria nodded and lifted the tray. It was a simple arrangement—tea, a note, and a fresh napkin.
The hallway to Ethan’s study felt longer than usual. The door was closed this time. She knocked softly.
“Come in,” came the smooth, familiar voice.
She entered quietly and placed the tray on the side table near his desk.
Ethan was seated behind the desk, head bent over an open file. His pen was moving across the page in swift strokes, but as she adjusted the tray, he spoke.
“Did Daniel upset you this morning?”
She paused. “No, sir.”
He looked up. “He speaks without thinking. Don’t let it unsettle you.”
Aria didn’t know what to say, so she bowed her head. “Thank you, sir.”
Ethan studied her for a beat longer, then returned to his work. “That will be all.”
She turned to leave, but at the door, something tugged at her. She paused. “Sir?”
He glanced up again.
She hesitated, then spoke. “Thank you… for seeing me.”
His eyes flickered—subtle, but something in them softened.
“You’re welcome, Aria.”
She stepped out into the hallway, the door clicking gently shut behind her.
But her day was far from peaceful.
Later that afternoon, as the household buzzed with activity, Madam Lavine’s sharp voice cut through the air like a blade.
“Aria! You forgot to polish the brass handles in the main hall!”
Aria, breathless from running errands, paused. “I—I thought they were done yesterday, ma’am.”
Madam Lavine’s eyes narrowed. “And do you think this house runs on your thoughts?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Then don’t question me. Get it done.”
Aria bowed her head. “Yes, ma’am.”
She knelt on the floor with a rag and began polishing the handles, blinking back the sting in her eyes. Her knees ached. Her hands were already sore.
“Why do you let her speak to you like that?”
She looked up in alarm.
Daniel stood a few feet away, arms folded, watching her.
Aria quickly lowered her gaze. “It’s not my place to argue.”
Daniel tilted his head. “You always this obedient?”
She didn’t answer.
He crouched beside her, lowering his voice. “You don’t have to let them walk all over you. You deserve better.”
His tone was oddly gentle—softer than before. Sincere, almost.
Aria glanced up and met his eyes, then quickly looked away. “Thank you.”
Daniel reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. “Here,” he said, offering it to her. “Just in case tears sneak up on you again.”
She hesitated, but he gently placed it beside her on the floor and stood.
“Keep it. I’ve got plenty,” he said with a wink, then strolled off, whistling.
Aria stared at the handkerchief. She didn’t pick it up—not yet.
She resumed polishing, determined to finish before Madam Lavine could scold her again.
But she didn’t know that another pair of eyes had witnessed the scene—from the far end of the hallway, quiet and unseen.
Ethan.
He stood in the shadowed archway, a book closed in his hand, expression unreadable.
His gaze lingered on Aria, crouched on the marble floor, still polishing, her face composed but weary.
And for the second time that day, he watched her… longer than necessary.
- Writer
