Ch. 15 – A Glimpse of Gentleness
1136 Words
The rain came down in a relentless curtain that morning, drumming softly against the tall windows of the west wing. The air inside the mansion was thick with silence—an eerie quiet that seemed to weigh down every breath.
Seraphina woke with a sharp chill crawling up her spine. Her head throbbed, her vision blurred, and her throat burned with dryness. The world spun when she tried to sit up. She barely made it to the edge of the bed before her knees buckled beneath her.
“Madam!” one of the maids gasped, rushing forward to catch her, but Seraphina had already slipped into darkness.
By the time she opened her eyes again, the world was dim. The heavy curtains had been drawn, soft candlelight flickering in the corners of her room. For a moment, she thought she was dreaming—until she felt the weight of a large, calloused hand resting gently on her wrist.
Kael.
The realization sent a wave of confusion through her. Her husband—the man who rarely looked at her except with restrained disdain—was seated beside her bed. His sleeves were rolled up, his expression carved with worry he couldn’t quite hide.
“You’re awake,” he said, his voice low but steady.
Her lips parted, but no sound came out.
“Don’t move,” he ordered quietly. “You fainted. The physician came earlier. He said you have a fever.”
Seraphina blinked, trying to gather her thoughts. “You called for a doctor?” she whispered hoarsely.
“I’m not a monster,” he muttered, dipping a cloth into a bowl of cool water before wringing it out and pressing it to her forehead.
She flinched at the sudden touch. It was gentle, so unlike the Kael she knew. His eyes lifted to hers, and for a moment, the Beast looked almost… human.
“I told them to leave,” he said after a pause. “Too many people fussing around would only make it worse.”
“You stayed?” Her voice trembled with disbelief.
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he shifted in his seat, the chair creaking slightly under his weight. “It’s my duty,” he said simply.
But duty didn’t explain the faint worry that softened his harsh features. It didn’t explain the way he watched her chest rise and fall, as if reassuring himself that she was still breathing.
The fever rose and fell through the afternoon. Sometimes she drifted in and out of sleep, sometimes she heard his voice—calm, low, commanding the servants to bring more water, to light more candles, to keep the room warm.
At one point, her fingers brushed his hand by accident. His entire body went rigid, but he didn’t pull away. He only looked down at her, the firelight catching the gold flecks in his storm-grey eyes.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked softly when her voice returned.
He hesitated. “Because you’re my wife.”
“That never mattered to you before.”
Something flickered across his face—guilt, maybe, or regret. “It matters now.”
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The storm outside had quieted to a drizzle, and the room was filled with the soft crackling of the fire. Kael replaced the cloth again, his movements precise but careful, as if he was afraid of hurting her.
She watched him through heavy eyelids. “You’re not what they say you are,” she murmured.
He gave a quiet, humorless laugh. “You don’t know what they say.”
“I do. They call you the Beast.”
He looked at her then, sharply, the corner of his mouth lifting in something between mockery and pain. “And aren’t they right?”
She studied him—the furrow in his brow, the shadows under his eyes. He looked tired. Not just physically, but deeply, like a man who had carried too many battles alone.
“No,” she whispered. “I don’t think they are.”
His breath hitched. For a second, the walls he had built between them seemed to falter.
The fever broke just before dawn. Kael stayed there, still as stone, watching the slow return of color to her cheeks. When he finally stood, his movements were slow, reluctant.
“You should rest,” he said quietly.
Her hand reached out weakly, fingers brushing against his sleeve. “Kael…”
He froze. She had never said his name like that before—softly, like a secret.
He turned toward her, and for the first time, she saw something raw in his expression. A vulnerability she didn’t think him capable of.
“You should rest,” he repeated, but the roughness in his tone betrayed him.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
His jaw tightened. “You don’t need to thank me.”
“I do,” she said. “Because I know it wasn’t easy for you.”
Kael exhaled slowly, his gaze lingering on her face. “You make too many assumptions about me, Seraphina.”
“Maybe,” she replied, her lips curving faintly. “But not all of them are wrong.”
He looked at her a moment longer, then brushed a strand of hair away from her face. The touch was fleeting but tender, enough to send warmth blooming in her chest.
When he left the room, she lay awake, staring at the spot where he had sat for hours. The pillow still carried the faint scent of him—cedarwood, smoke, and something darker she couldn’t name.
She didn’t know what had changed, but something had. The Beast had shown her a piece of his heart, and it terrified her how much she wanted to see more.
Down the hall, Kael paused outside her door. His hand hovered over the doorknob, as if debating whether to turn back. He had faced enemies who would kill without hesitation, yet nothing had ever unsettled him the way her quiet gratitude did.
He didn’t understand why he cared. He had promised himself this marriage would be nothing more than a transaction—a necessary chain. But the sight of her pale and trembling had undone something in him he couldn’t fix.
He had thought he was incapable of gentleness. And yet, tonight, he had been gentle.
When dawn broke, light spilled across the cold marble floors. Seraphina awoke to find fresh flowers on the bedside table—simple white lilies. She stared at them in disbelief.
There was no note, but she didn’t need one. She already knew who had placed them there.
And for the first time since the day she’d married him, she smiled—not out of fear, but out of hope.
- Writer
