Chapter4
1345 Words
The rain started without warning.
One moment, the sky was pale blue; the next, clouds rolled in like bruises spreading across skin. The garden emptied slowly—maids rushing indoors, gardeners abandoning their tools, the world retreating behind glass windows and polished doors.
Seraphina didn’t move.
She stood near the old oak tree, head tilted upward, letting the first drops fall onto her curls. Her dress darkened where the rain touched it. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t run.
I watched from the veranda for a second longer than I should have.
Then I walked toward her.
The gravel crunched beneath my shoes. She heard me but didn’t turn. Her fingers curled around a low-hanging branch, knuckles pale against bark.
“You’re going to catch a cold,” I said.
She shrugged without looking at me. “So?”
The rain thickened. Water slid down her cheeks, mixing with something else—something she didn’t bother to wipe away.
I stepped closer. My jacket brushed her arm.
“Come inside,” I said.
She shook her head. A single curl fell across her eyes. “I don’t want to.”
I didn’t argue. I just stood there with her while the rain soaked through my shirt and crept down my spine.
Minutes passed.
Her shoulders slowly relaxed. The branch slipped from her grip. She turned her face toward me, eyes bright, lashes wet.
“He looked at me like I was already his,” she said.
I didn’t respond.
“He didn’t even ask me,” she continued, voice low. “He didn’t ask if I wanted him. Or if I wanted anyone else.”
Her fingers clenched at her sides. The rain hit harder.
I reached out and brushed the curl away from her eyes. She didn’t pull back.
“He doesn’t get to decide,” I said.
She stared at me for a long moment, searching my face. Then she stepped closer—so close that the rain no longer mattered.
“You say that,” she whispered. “But he talks like the whole world already agreed.”
I didn’t move. My hands hovered at my sides, uncertain.
Her gaze dropped to my chest, then back to my eyes.
“If they force me,” she said, quietly, “what will you do?”
The question hung between us, heavier than the rain.
I looked past her, toward the mansion. Toward the tall windows where silhouettes moved behind curtains. Toward the world that had already drawn lines we weren’t meant to cross.
Then I looked back at her.
“I won’t let them,” I said.
She didn’t smile. But something in her posture shifted. The tension in her shoulders loosened just a little.
Thunder rolled above us.
“Adrian!”
The voice cut through the rain like a blade.
Rowan stood at the edge of the veranda, coat perfectly dry, posture straight, eyes sharp. Water didn’t touch him. It was like the storm had chosen not to.
Seraphina stiffened beside me.
Rowan walked toward us slowly, boots untouched by mud, expression unreadable.
“Inside,” he said, not to me—but to her.
Seraphina didn’t move.
Rowan stopped a few steps away. His gaze flicked from her soaked dress to my wet shirt, then back to her face.
“You like testing limits,” he said.
She lifted her chin. “I like breathing.”
Rowan’s lips twitched—not a smile.
“You should learn when to stop,” he said.
She laughed softly, bitterly. “Or what?”
The rain filled the silence.
Rowan stepped closer.
I moved before I thought.
My hand slid to Seraphina’s wrist—not tight, not possessive. Just there.
Rowan noticed.
His eyes darkened.
“You’re getting too comfortable,” he said to me.
I didn’t answer.
“You forget your position,” he continued.
Seraphina jerked her wrist free. “Stop talking about him like he’s something you own!”
Rowan turned to her fully.
“You’re emotional,” he said calmly. “That’s why decisions aren’t left to you.”
Her breath hitched.
I saw it—the moment her anger cracked and something fragile showed beneath it.
“You think I’m stupid?” she asked.
“I think you’re young,” Rowan replied.
She laughed once, sharp and hollow. “And you think that means I’m yours?”
Rowan didn’t answer immediately.
The rain slowed. The garden felt smaller.
“Our families agreed,” he said.
Her fingers trembled.
I stepped forward. “She’s not part of a business deal.”
Rowan looked at me slowly.
“You talk too much,” he said.
Seraphina turned to me. Her eyes searched mine—questioning, burning, uncertain.
“They can’t really do that, right?” she asked quietly.
I didn’t answer right away.
Rowan did.
“They already did,” he said.
The words landed like stones.
Seraphina’s face drained of color.
“What?” she whispered.
Rowan’s gaze didn’t leave hers. “Engagement talks started years ago. Contracts drafted. Conditions discussed. You just weren’t old enough to be told.”
Her lips parted slightly. No sound came out.
The world around us seemed to freeze.
I felt her fingers brush against mine again—this time not confident, not playful. Just searching.
Rowan watched the movement.
Then he stepped closer to her.
“You don’t need to worry,” he said softly, almost kindly. “You’ll get used to it.”
Seraphina stared at him.
Something in her eyes broke.
She turned suddenly and walked past him, skirts soaked, curls clinging to her face.
I followed without thinking.
Her pace quickened. Marble halls swallowed us.
We didn’t speak.
She pushed open the door to the west corridor and kept walking.
I followed.
Her footsteps echoed against polished floors. Portraits of ancestors watched from walls. Chandeliers glowed above us, indifferent.
She stopped at the end of the corridor—near the old balcony.
Her hands clenched into fists.
“They already decided,” she said.
I didn’t answer.
“They didn’t even ask me,” she repeated.
Her voice cracked.
I stepped closer.
“They talked about my life like it was a contract,” she whispered. “Like I was land. Or money.”
She laughed softly, but it didn’t sound like laughter.
I reached out.
She turned suddenly, eyes blazing.
“I don’t want him,” she said.
The words came fast now.
“I don’t care what they signed. I don’t care what they planned. I don’t want Rowan. I don’t want his world. I don’t want their rules.”
She stepped closer to me.
Close enough that I could smell rain in her hair.
“I want you,” she said.
The corridor went silent.
My breath stalled.
Her gaze didn’t waver.
I didn’t move.
The distance between us felt dangerous.
For a second, neither of us spoke.
Then footsteps echoed down the hall.
Rowan.
Seraphina stepped back instantly.
Her expression shifted—walls rising again.
Rowan stopped a few feet away, eyes flicking between us.
“So,” he said calmly, “this is where you ran to.”
Seraphina crossed her arms.
Rowan’s gaze settled on me.
“You should remember something,” he said quietly.
I met his eyes.
“This is not your world,” he continued. “You only exist here because my family allows it.”
I didn’t respond.
He turned back to Seraphina.
“And you,” he said, softer now, “belong to this world whether you like it or not.”
Her jaw tightened.
Rowan turned and walked away.
His footsteps faded.
Silence returned.
Seraphina stared at the floor.
Her fingers slowly unclenched.
I stepped closer.
She didn’t look at me.
For a long moment, neither of us spoke.
Then she whispered, barely audible:
“Don’t leave me.”
I didn’t answer.
I just stood there beside her.
And the distance between us—between what we wanted and what the world demanded—felt wider than the mansion itself.
- Writer
