Entwined in the Shadows

Fractured Shadows

CHAPTER FIVE

Fractured Shadows.

Eliana steps in, her fingers already buried in her hair, pressing against the ache behind her temples. The exhibition’s noise still echoes in her head. The music was so loud—or maybe it wasn't.”She remembers the laughter, side comments—then gone.

Maggie’s voice: “Hi Elii.” Then it fades.

She takes a few steps forward. Another voice cuts through. “That's her, right?” “She's only here because she's a Peterson.”

It fades again. Her thoughts spiral. She steadies herself. “Why would I care what they think?” Then—David calls from behind.

“Eli.” She turns back. Of course, he's still here—the young man she’s been seeing lately, the one her parents had hoped might be more than a friend.

He stands behind her, with a bouquet of flowers and a chocolate box in his hands. He is dressed in a dashing black tuxedo. He moves with the calm of someone who owns the room. His sharp blue eyes hold power, radiating a fractured light impossible to look away from.

“I'm home now. Thanks for your company.”

David walks forward and reaches for her hand. “You’ve been distant, Eli.” His voice is calm, but there’s something underneath it. Eliana deflects. “It’s been a long night.” She pulls her hand from his grip—firm this time.

“Right,” David adds. “I got you flowers and your favourite chocolate. Something to sweeten up the sour night.” Eliana exhales. “Thank you, David.” She looks away. Her eyes wander. ‘Could you at least smile… please?’ he says, turning her face.

“David, I'm okay.” She steps back slightly, forcing a grin, aware he’s trying to charm her, as he always does. He doesn’t speak. He notices a strand of her hair flying out. He attempts to adjust it. Eliana grows uneasy. She stiffens. His eyes flicker behind her. He sees him—Noah, hidden behind the quarters.

“Why is your servant observing us?” Eliana looks aside. “I don't know. I just want to rest.”

“I'm sorry, my princess.” Eliana carefully adjusts her hair and walks into the house. David calls behind her: “Eli, Eli.” She doesn't pause. He goes behind her. After a few steps, he stops. He turns again, and Noah is still there, standing firm behind him. Their eyes meet. The air becomes tense. David readjusts his cufflinks, tightens his tie, and walks back inside—breaking eye contact. Noah stiffens up. “A new character in the plot?” He smirks, slipping in through the back door unseen.

In the grand hall, Mr. and Mrs. Peterson sit on the couch, chatting. Eliana walks in. She doesn't say a word.

“How was the exhibition, dear?” her mother asks. “It went…”

David enters. Mrs. Peterson's attention shifts.

“David!” Her smile grows wider. “What a pleasant surprise.”

She turns to Eliana. “You didn't tell me you'd be going with David.” Eliana rolls her eyes. “Arghhh!” She should have known that the night was not done with her.

“Come in, son,” Mr. Peterson says, gesturing to David. “Have a seat.”

“Don’t be too formal, sir,” David responds as he stretches his arms for a hug.

Soon, he settles down with the Petersons. The servants bring snacks.

“You know how much we value you, David,” Mrs. Peterson says warmly. “You’ve always been like family… more than family.”

Mr. Peterson nods approvingly. “A man like you is rare.” David smiles.

“How is your mother, son?” Mrs. Peterson presses. “She's doing great, ma'am. Since she got back from Paris, she's been excited about the meeting.” His eyes meet with Eliana’s across the room. There's a pause. Eliana’s expression shifts. Her father notices this. Noah too.

“Oh, yes… I'm also excited,” Mrs. Peterson adds.

“Eliana, why are you standing over there?” her mom calls out.

“I'm not in the mood for company tonight. I'll be in my room,” Eliana replies sharply. She leaves immediately.

“She must be really tired,” Mrs. Peterson says to David. “Don’t take it to heart.” She pats his back gently.

“No, ma'am, I know your daughter, well ” David replies, chuckling.

Noah watches closely.

The way the man speaks. The way the parents respond.

He doesn’t need to ask.

This is the man they’ve chosen for her.

Compassion, little by little, begins to warm his chest.

Upstairs, Eliana pushes the door open. She crashes to the floor and cries out. “Ahhhhh!”

She holds her head in her hands as memories of the day run along her mind. “This has to end.” She angrily takes off her bangles and throws them. Her bangles clatter against the floor of the silent room. She smells faint perfume lingering from earlier. Then—David's voice: “She’s been excited about the meeting.”

The meeting.

She crashes again. This time on her bed.

A few minutes later, Eliana is barely conscious. She hears a faint knock. Her feeble voice whispers: “Come in.”

Noah steps in. He sees her, lying defeated.

The half moon hangs before her window, its soft light partially illuminating the room.

“This isn't my place. I shouldn't be here,” he tells himself. He almost leaves, but he doesn't.

He walks towards her. “Ma'am.” His face blurs before her eyes.

“Noah…” Eliana mouths.

“Yes, it's me.”

He settles in the chair beside her.

“Why are you here?” Eliana asks. “Do you also want to make my day worse?” Her voice breaks between. He pauses.

“No,” his response, short and controlled. She struggles to sit up. He helps her. Then—tears fill Eliana’s eyes.

“Am I really that terrible?”

“Who says you are?” His voice begins to soften.

“Everyone,” she replies quietly. The tears begin to roll down her cheeks.

“Sometimes… I wish I wasn't here. Maybe then, people would find me worthy.”

She pauses.

His hand slowly reaches for her face. He hesitates, almost pulling back. He feels his heart racing rapidly. The moment lingers. Then, he wipes her cheeks. She freezes. Her eyes lock in with his. Now, he sees through her. The dimness in her eyes and the emptiness it reflects. Another pause.

“What is this unwanted empathy?”

“I'm tired,” Eliana continues.

“Then, rest.” He adjusts her beddings.

“I can't,” Eliana protests.

“I understand, but still…”

He gestures for her to lay down.

She listens calmly.

“Just close your eyes.”

Her eyes shut slowly. Her consciousness begins to fade. Slowly.

Her fingers twist around his.

“Don’t… go,” she mutters softly.

Then—she totally passes out. He waits there. Just staring at her.

His eyes lose a bit of their sharpness. He pauses. “Why am I here?” Realisation kicks in. Immediately, he carefully removes his hand from her grip.

He covers her with a blanket, then takes a few steps back—still fixing his gaze.

Every step away feels somewhat difficult—like he wants to be there for her, but he just can't. He turns around and hurriedly walks towards the door.

He gets to the door and opens it. Before he steps out, he looks back to steal one more glance at her.

A faint smile flashes from the corner of his lips. But just as he turns again, he is met with a storm.

“What are you doing there?”

Behold, it's Mrs. Peterson, standing across the hallway. Her eyes narrow as she walks closer.

His eyes widen as his heart races. This time, heavily.