Unscripted After

Chapter 12

The morning sunlight filtered through the gauzy curtains, casting soft gold across the room. Talia blinked, slow and dazed, disoriented for a moment by the unfamiliar softness of the bed, the faint scent of cedarwood, and the subtle hum of a city waking up beyond the walls.

Then it came back, the wedding, the cameras, the contract. Cassian.

She sat up, and that’s when she noticed the throw blanket folded at the foot of the bed, and a small note tucked neatly on top.

“You fell asleep before the ending. I didn’t want to wake you.” — C

Her lips curved into a reluctant smile, and she slipped the note into the drawer of her nightstand like something precious.

Downstairs, the house was too quiet for its size. When she followed the smell of espresso into the kitchen, she found Cassian on the balcony, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly tousled, reading something on his tablet.

“Morning,” she said, her voice still laced with sleep.

He looked up. “You’re awake. I was beginning to think you slipped into a coma.”

“Thanks for carrying me. Again,” she added, raising a brow.

Cassian sipped his coffee with mock arrogance. “You’re lucky I’m a gentleman. Or I’d have charged you for overtime.”

She rolled her eyes, grabbing a mug and filling it with hot coffee. “You know, you’re a lot less charming in the mornings.”

“You say that every morning we’ve spent together.”

Her fingers paused around the mug. Right. They’d had plenty of mornings, brunches, hangovers, road trips. But none like this.

The silence between them shifted, not heavy, but meaningful. Like something was slowly blooming in the quiet.

Later, Talia spent most of the day in the library-turned-office, reviewing a list of upcoming charity events Cassian’s assistant had sent her. Apparently, being Mrs. Locke came with a PR schedule.

By afternoon, she wandered out to the small private garden behind the estate, a hidden spot of peace she hadn’t noticed before. She found herself sitting under a magnolia tree, sketching rough outlines in a journal she hadn’t opened in weeks. The quiet wrapped around her like a blanket until her phone buzzed.

Phoebe.

“Hey,” Talia said.

“Finally!” Phoebe exclaimed. “So? What’s it like being married to a billionaire?”

Talia chuckled. “Exhausting. Glamorous. A little lonely.”

“Girl. That’s not even a real answer.”

She hesitated, twirling a leaf between her fingers. “It feels like we’re still just...us. But everything around us is different. And I can’t afford to forget that.”

Phoebe’s voice softened. “You’re catching feelings again.”

“They never left,” Talia admitted quietly. “I just got better at hiding them.”

“T,” Phoebe said gently, “just promise me one thing. Don’t get so lost in the fantasy that you forget it started as a lie.”

That night, after a long, quiet dinner, she wandered down the hallway and paused at the door to the music room. Soft piano notes drifted through the air, slow and familiar, not polished, but intimate. She cracked the door open and found Cassian at the grand piano, fingers gliding over the keys, head slightly bowed.

“You still play,” she said, barely above a whisper.

He looked up, not startled, just… vulnerable.

“Only when no one’s listening.”

She walked in, slowly. “Why?”

“Because I don’t like explaining why I stopped.”

She sat on the edge of the bench beside him, their knees brushing. Neither of them moved away.

“What was that song?” she asked.

He didn’t answer right away. Then, quietly: “It’s one I wrote.”

“For who?”

He looked at her, eyes dark, unreadable. “I don’t know yet.”

They didn’t say anything more. But as the final note hung in the air, soft and lingering, something unspoken passed between them.

Something neither of them was ready to name, but both could feel.