Tied to my enemy

Chapter Five: Fractures in Glass

The morning after the storm, the mansion felt different.

The air was quieter, gentler as if the house itself was holding its breath. The electricity had returned, but Celeste almost missed the silence. For the first time since the wedding, she and Lysander had spoken without venom, without that sharp edge that usually laced every word between them.

But it wasn’t peaceful. It was something else, something fragile, dangerous, and unnamed.

She stood in the kitchen, barefoot, wearing one of her silk robes. The rain outside had slowed to a drizzle, and the smell of coffee filled the air. She poured a cup for herself, then hesitated, glancing toward the hallway that led to his office.

Her hand trembled slightly. Don’t overthink it, she told herself. It was just coffee nothing more.

She poured a second cup and walked down the corridor, her reflection following her across the marble floor. When she reached the office door, she paused, her pulse suddenly too loud.

She knocked once.

“Come in,” his voice answered, low and unreadable.

Lysander looked up from behind his desk when she entered. He’d rolled up his sleeves, the top buttons of his shirt undone, exposing the sharp lines of his collarbones. His hair was slightly tousled, as though he hadn’t slept.

Celeste crossed the room and set the cup down on the desk. “You looked like you needed this.”

His brows lifted a little. “Coffee? Or a peace offering?”

“Maybe both,” she said softly.

He studied her for a moment, then reached for the cup. “Thank you.”

It was the first time he’d said those words to her. And the simplicity of them uttered without the armor of sarcasm made something shift inside her chest.

He took a slow sip, eyes still on her. “You look tired.”

She laughed lightly. “Says the man who probably hasn’t slept in three days.”

“I’m used to it.”

“Maybe that’s your problem,” she said. “You’re too used to pain.”

The words slipped out before she could stop them but instead of getting angry, he went still. The silence stretched until it almost broke.

Then he said quietly, “And you? What are you used to?”

She hesitated, her smile fading. “Being ignored, being told what to do, pretending to be fine.”

Their eyes met, and for a heartbeat, neither of them looked away. There was no hate there anymore just two people who had forgotten how to stop hurting.

Before she could say anything else, Lysander’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, his jaw tightening.

“Problem?” she asked.

“Business,” he said shortly, standing up. “I need to take this.”

And just like that, the moment was gone.

Hours later, Celeste found herself wandering the gardens again. The sun had broken through the clouds, turning the wet leaves into glass. She followed the stone path that led to the cliff’s edge, where the ocean stretched endlessly before her.

She breathed deeply, trying to let go of everything that knotted inside her but peace never lasted long.

From behind, a voice broke through the quiet. “You shouldn’t walk here alone.”

She turned, surprised. Lysander stood a few feet away, a black coat over his shirt, hands in his pockets.

“You always seem to find me when I least expect it,” she said.

“That’s because you never stay still,” he replied.

His tone was calm, but there was something else underneath — something she couldn’t name.

“You followed me?”

He shrugged. “I was just making sure you didn’t fall into the sea.”

“Or maybe you were afraid of losing your investment,” she said coolly.

His gaze sharpened. “You think that’s what this is?”

“Isn’t it?” she shot back. “A business transaction? A deal sealed with a wedding ring?”

He took a slow step forward. “Maybe it started that way.”

“And now?” she challenged him.

He stopped close enough that she could feel the warmth of him, seeing the tiny droplets of rain still clinging to his hair. His voice dropped low, deliberate.

“Now I’m not so sure.”

Her heart thudded painfully. She wanted to ask what he meant, but she couldn’t. The wind whipped between them, carrying away words neither dared to say.

That night, they attended their first public event as husband and wife — the Velencia Charity Gala.

It was a dazzling display of wealth and whispers, every corner filled with champagne, diamonds, and deceit.

Celeste wore an ivory gown that shimmered under the chandeliers, her hair pinned up with golden clips. She looked every inch the perfect billionaire’s wife — poised, untouchable, breathtaking. But inside, she felt like glass, one sharp word away from cracking.

Lysander stood beside her, black tuxedo tailored to perfection. The room seemed to bend around him; even silence felt louder when he was near. Together, they looked unstoppable, the couple everyone envied, the merger of two dynasties.

But behind the smiles and flashbulbs, the truth was far more complicated.

“Mr. and Mrs. Vale,” a woman said, approaching them with a champagne glass and a grin that was almost too polite. “You both look divine tonight. How’s married life treating you?”

Celeste’s lips curved into a flawless social smile. “Perfect, as always.”

Lysander’s expression didn’t change. “Couldn’t be better.”

The woman laughed lightly. “I’m sure people can’t stop talking about your wedding. Two rivals turned lovers it’s almost poetic.”

“Almost,” Celeste murmured.

As the woman left, Celeste leaned closer to Lysander and whispered, “If I have to hear one more person call this poetic, I might throw my drink.”

He smirked slightly. “Then make sure it’s expensive wine at least it’ll be worth the scandal.”

Her laughter caught him off guard — genuine, soft, unguarded. He stared at her longer than he meant to. For a moment, he forgot where they were.

Then another voice interrupted.

“Well, if it isn’t the happy couple.”

Celeste stiffened. The man who approached was Elias Maren, her father’s business associate and one of the men who had tried to buy out Armand Media before the wedding.

“Elias,” Lysander said coolly. “Still circling what you can’t own?”

The man’s smile tightened. “I simply like to keep an eye on what interests me.” His eyes slid to Celeste, lingering too long. “And I must say, Mrs. Vale, you look… stunning.”

Lysander’s expression darkened. “Careful.”

Elias raised an eyebrow. “Just a compliment you can’t fault a man for appreciating beauty.”

Celeste forced a smile, placing a hand on Lysander’s arm before things escalated. “Thank you, Elias enjoy the rest of your evening.”

The man nodded and left, but not before giving Lysander a look that promised trouble.

Lysander’s jaw was tight as he turned back to her. “You shouldn’t talk to him.”

“He was being polite,” she said.

“He was being dangerous,” he countered.

Her temper flared. “You don’t get to decide who I talk to, Lysander, marrriage doesn’t give you ownership.”

His voice dropped, dark and steady. “I’m not trying to own you, Celeste, I’m trying to protect you.”

She glared at him. “From what? The world? Or yourself?”

He didn’t answer. He just looked at her — really looked as if trying to find the version of her he’d been fighting for and against at the same time.

The air between them felt charged, every word unsaid crackling in silence.

Then, without another word, he turned and walked away.

That night, back at the mansion, Celeste paced her room, the memory of his stare still burning in her chest. She hated how easily he could unsettle her, how one look from him could tear apart her defenses.

When she finally went downstairs for water, she saw him in the study, the light from the fireplace casting gold across his face. He was staring into the flames, his expression raw, unguarded.

She stood quietly in the doorway. “You left without saying goodbye.”

He looked up. “I didn’t think you wanted one.”

She walked in slowly. “You assume too much.”

“Maybe,” he said, his eyes tracing her face. “But I’ve learned assumptions are safer than the truth.”

She stepped closer, her heart racing. “And what’s the truth, Lysander?”

He hesitated. “That every time I look at you, I remember why I should hate you.”

Her breath caught. “And?”

“And every time I try to hate you…” He trailed off, shaking his head as if trying to erase the thought. “I failed.”

The air thickened between them. She felt his warmth, his pain, his restraint. The distance that had once been made of pride now felt like fire.

Celeste swallowed hard. “Then stop trying.”

His eyes snapped to hers — dark, burning, lost.

For a long second, neither of them moved. Then Lysander took a step forward, closing the last of the distance. His hand reached up, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. His touch was tentative, trembling.

But before he could say anything, his phone rang again — sharp, loud, cruel.

He stepped back, breaking the moment. “I have to take this.”

And just like that, he was gone again, leaving her standing in the glow of the dying fire —

caught between wanting him to come back and hating herself for wanting him