Chapter Four: Cracks in the Wall
586 Words
The days following the gala were quieter—different. Xander wasn’t warm, not exactly, but something had shifted. He no longer treated Ella like a background accessory. He asked if she needed anything. He made sure her preferred tea was stocked in the kitchen. Small things.
Ella noticed them all.
One evening, a week later, Xander returned home earlier than usual.
“You’re home early,” she said, startled to see him at the door while she was curled up on the couch with her laptop.
He loosened his tie and stepped inside. “Meeting was canceled. Thought I’d enjoy one evening without suits and contracts.”
She gave him a surprised smile. “Want some tea?”
He raised a brow. “Tea?”
“You strike me as someone who’s more coffee than conversation, but… tea helps.”
After a long moment, he nodded. “Sure.”
She handed him a cup of chamomile and sat across from him.
“I have to admit,” she said after a quiet sip, “I expected worse.”
He glanced up. “Worse?”
“You. This arrangement. I thought I’d be walking on eggshells. But you’re… manageable.”
A dry smirk crossed his face. “That’s the highest praise I’ve received all year.”
She laughed, genuinely this time. “Well, I’m not your PR team. Just honest.”
He took a sip of his tea and leaned back. “You’re different from the women I’ve known.”
“In a good way or a bad way?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Of course not. That would require emotion.”
His gaze lingered on her, more curious than offended. “You’re not what I expected either.”
⸻
That night, a storm rolled in. Thunder cracked across the sky, and Ella tossed and turned in her bed. Memories of her childhood flooded back—nights curled under a blanket, listening to her parents scream at each other before the storm drowned them out.
Sleep was impossible.
She got up and wandered toward the living room, curling into the oversized armchair with a blanket. The storm outside mirrored the mess in her chest.
Footsteps behind her startled her.
Xander stood there in a loose gray T-shirt and pajama pants—barefoot, casual, and entirely different from his usual polished self.
“You okay?” he asked, voice low.
“Storms make it hard to sleep,” she admitted.
He nodded, not asking for details.
After a beat, he walked over and sat across from her. For a long moment, they just sat in silence.
“You don’t have to pretend you’re made of ice all the time,” she said softly. “You’re allowed to be human, Xander.”
His jaw clenched. “It’s easier not to be.”
“Why?”
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stared at the floor, a muscle ticking in his jaw.
“Because when you let people close, they know where to stab.”
The words hung heavy between them.
Ella got up and crossed to sit beside him. For once, she didn’t filter her actions. She rested her head lightly on his shoulder.
He didn’t move.
He didn’t push her away.
In fact, after a moment, she felt him exhale slowly, like someone breathing for the first time in days.
She didn’t know what this moment was. It wasn’t love, but it was something. A truce. A connection.
And it was real.
- Writer
