The Scars Between Us

Chapter3

I spotted her before I even reached the garden gate. Sunlight streaked across the marble path, catching the copper in her curls, bouncing them like flames. Seraphina. Eighteen years old and already a whirlwind of energy, her skirts swished around her ankles as she darted across the lawn.

“Adrian!” she called, spinning in a full circle. “Catch me if you can!”

I groaned, dropping my bag of papers onto the stone bench. My long legs ate the distance in two strides, closing in on her as she sprinted toward the fountain. She crouched low, ready to spring, a grin so wide it almost hurt to see.

“Careful, Seraphina,” I warned, grabbing her wrist just as she leapt.

“I didn’t fall!” she said triumphantly, her green eyes sparkling.

“Yet,” I muttered, pulling her back gently, letting her regain her balance.

Her curls tumbled over her face, and she swatted them away. “You’re no fun, you know that?”

I let go of her wrist but stayed close, my shadow falling over hers. The sun glinted off the fountain, water spilling like liquid diamonds. She leaned toward the edge, toes hovering above the marble rim, daring gravity.

“Stop that!” I snapped, catching her again, this time holding her waist. Her tiny laugh rang in the air, carefree, untamed.

“You’re too serious,” she said, wriggling free. “I’m having fun!”

I exhaled through my nose, letting the corners of my mouth twitch upward despite myself. She always had this effect on me. Even at eighteen, even now when the world demanded seriousness from me, she reminded me how alive it felt to just… be.

Then I felt it—a presence, a cold weight in the air.

Rowan.

I knew before I saw him. His boots clicked on the marble path, precise, measured, deliberate. He emerged from the shadow of the fountain, arms crossed, lips tight, eyes flicking between me and her.

I stiffened, and Seraphina sensed it too. She froze mid-spin, eyebrows lifting.

“Adrian,” Rowan said, voice cutting through the morning. A single word, a command, a warning all rolled into one.

“Excuse me?” I said, narrowing my eyes.

Rowan stepped closer, slow, deliberate, like he had rehearsed every move. “Step away from her.”

Her small hands balled into fists at her sides. “Step away? From me?” I echoed, incredulous, tightening my stance.

“She’s meant to be mine,” Rowan said, voice dropping, low and cold. “One day, she’ll marry me. You don’t get a say in this.”

I crouched slightly, coming down to her level, though still towering over her in comparison. “You think telling her that will make her yours? You think words can bind her?”

Her lips pressed together, jaw tight. “I never will!” she shouted, throwing her tiny hand toward him in defiance.

Rowan’s jaw flexed, irritation flashing. “Be careful, Seraphina.”

I could see her chest rise and fall, breaths coming faster. She swallowed, trying to steady herself. “I’m not scared of you,” she said, voice trembling just slightly but laced with fire.

I put my hand on her shoulder, grounding her, shielding her from Rowan’s imposing presence without saying a word. Her curls brushed my fingers. She didn’t flinch—just leaned slightly into my hand, a quiet acknowledgment that I was here.

Rowan’s lips pressed in a thin line. “You’ll see,” he said, taking a step back, though his gaze didn’t leave her. “One day, she’ll have no choice.”

Seraphina’s shoulders slumped, and I caught the tiniest tremble in her hands. My chest tightened—not with anger, though there was plenty of that—but with an ache I couldn’t yet name.

“You’ll listen to him?” I asked softly, watching her green eyes fill with hurt.

Her gaze dropped to the fountain. She tapped a foot against the marble, lips pressing into a thin line. “I… I only want… you,” she whispered.

Her words hit me like a splash of cold water. I didn’t move, didn’t speak, just let my hand linger on hers.

The garden was silent for a moment, except for the faint splashing of water. Birds hopped across petals, pecking at crumbs left behind by some maid’s breakfast. The wind carried the scent of roses and damp earth, and I noticed the way sunlight pooled in the corners of the fountain basin.

“Do you think he’ll make me?” she asked after a while, voice soft, almost lost in the rustling of leaves.

I crouched lower, resting my forehead near hers without touching. “Not if I can stop him,” I said, letting my voice carry calm she didn’t quite feel.

Her curls brushed my arm as she leaned slightly into me, and I felt the weight of her trust, delicate and precious. Her green eyes darted up to mine, glimmering with stubborn defiance. “I’ll never marry him. Never.”

I didn’t speak. I just nodded, fingers brushing against hers, holding her close as the garden seemed to exhale around us.

We wandered slowly toward the fountain, picking up fallen petals along the way. She twirled, watching the sunlight catch in her hair, and I followed, careful not to step too close, careful not to make her feel small or constrained.

She bent to pick up a small yellow flower, tucking it behind her ear. “He thinks he can control me,” she muttered, voice low. “I only ever want… you.”

I bit the inside of my cheek, letting the words sink in without responding. My jaw tightened, eyes narrowing slightly as I followed her gaze to Rowan’s direction, now empty, yet the feeling of his presence lingered like a shadow.

Her tiny hand found mine, gripping tightly. I let her, letting the silent comfort speak where words couldn’t.

We crossed the bridge over the koi pond. The water shimmered, orange and gold fish darting beneath the surface. She leaned over, laughing at their frantic movements. I caught her, careful not to let her tip forward into the water.

“Adrian!” she gasped, curls falling into her face. “You’re no fun!”

I smirked despite myself, brushing hair from her cheek. “I’m full of fun. I just also like keeping you alive.”

She shoved me lightly, grinning. “One day, you’re going to loosen up!”

I let her tug me toward the wildflower patch, petals brushing our ankles. Bees hummed lazily, and the scent of lavender made the tension ease just slightly. But even as she laughed, I could see the shadow in her eyes—faint, but there, the memory of Rowan’s words, of his claim, of the impossibility looming over us.

We paused under the old oak tree, its trunk gnarled with age. Seraphina leaned against it, arms crossed, staring at the fountain. I stood beside her, hands in my pockets, watching her posture tighten and relax in the breeze.

“You know,” she said finally, voice low, almost teasing, “I’m not a child anymore.”

“No,” I said, leaning slightly toward her. “You’re eighteen. Fully grown. Dangerous, reckless, impossible to manage.”

She laughed, curling her fingers around a branch. “Dangerous, maybe. But impossible? Never.”

I watched her, and for the first time that day, I allowed a small, private smile to cross my lips. She was fire. She was the storm in the calm. And I… I was hopelessly tangled in it.

Then Rowan’s voice echoed faintly from the mansion, somewhere far enough that we couldn’t see him, but close enough that it carried weight. “Seraphina. Adrian.”

She flinched slightly. I squeezed her hand, letting her know silently I was still here.

She nodded, chin lifted, curls bouncing. “I’ll never let him dictate me,” she whispered.

I didn’t speak. I just nodded, brushing a stray curl from her eyes.

And in that quiet, golden garden, I knew. I would fight for her. Always. No one—not Rowan, not anyone—would take her from me.