The Shattering silence
1003 Words
Ariana sat curled on the edge of the king-sized bed, knees pulled to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around herself like a makeshift shield. The room was silent except for the ticking of the wall clock and the occasional hum of the wind pressing against the glass windows. The echo of Dominic’s earlier outburst still vibrated in her ears.
She had never seen him like that before.
His icy control had cracked, just for a second. His voice, usually smooth and calm, had thundered like a storm breaking over her. But what haunted her wasn’t the anger—it was what came after.
Silence.
He hadn't touched her. He hadn't yelled more. He’d simply looked at her—his face blank, eyes unreadable—and walked out of the room.
Now, hours later, the silence stretched unbearably thin.
Ariana replayed every moment that led to the argument. She had asked him about his past. She had dared to poke the mask, to want more than just the title of wife. She wanted answers. Emotion. Affection. Something.
Instead, she’d gotten a door slammed in her face.
She rubbed her arms, as if she could wipe away the tension, the ache, the hollowness growing inside her.
There was a knock on the door.
Ariana jolted, straightened, her eyes darting toward it. Was it him?
"Come in," she whispered, unsure if she even wanted him to.
The door creaked open, but it wasn’t Dominic. It was Vera, the housekeeper.
“Ma’am, dinner is ready. Do you want it brought up, or…?”
Ariana shook her head. “I’m not hungry.”
Vera hesitated, then stepped in gently and placed a covered tray on the side table. “You haven’t eaten all day. He… he asked me to make sure you did.”
Ariana’s heart skipped. “He asked?”
“Yes.” Vera smiled softly. “He didn’t say it out loud. Just left the tray on the counter and walked out. But I knew what it meant.”
Ariana stared at the tray.
He cared. But he didn’t know how to show it.
After Vera left, she walked over to the tray and lifted the cover. Her favorite—chicken stew with mashed potatoes. A faint smile touched her lips.
He remembered.
She sat down slowly and began to eat, chewing in silence, but this time, it was a little less heavy. The quiet was no longer painful; it was filled with unspoken thoughts and hidden intentions.
**
Dominic sat in his study, a glass of whiskey untouched beside him, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. The security monitor on his desk showed her room—Ariana, eating slowly, lost in thought.
He hadn’t meant to snap at her.
He hadn’t meant to let the past rise like a wave and drag him under.
But when she asked about his family—about his father—he had felt the walls closing in. The scars he kept so well hidden had itched, threatened to bleed.
He had buried that part of himself long ago. The boy who used to dream. The son who used to love.
Now he was only power. Silence. Order.
And then she came.
With her too-wide eyes and quiet resilience. With her soft smiles and unexpected questions. She poked at the hollow places in him.
And he hated it.
But he couldn’t stop thinking about her.
He rose and walked to the large window, watching the darkened sky. Tomorrow, he would make it up to her—not with words. Words failed him. But with gestures. With safety. With the only thing he knew how to offer—control.
**
The next morning, Ariana woke to the sound of the front door closing downstairs. Curious, she slipped into a soft robe and padded down the stairs.
She found a note on the kitchen counter in Dominic’s handwriting:
“You need air. Vera will accompany you. Spend the day as you please. Take the card. No limits.”
Her fingers trembled slightly as she read it. This wasn’t just about giving her freedom—it was his way of apologizing. His way of saying: I see you.
**
Ariana’s day out felt surreal. She shopped, visited a gallery, ate ice cream under the morning sun. For once, no guards hovered close. Vera stayed back politely. It felt like breathing again.
But as the sun dipped, her heart began to race.
Would he be home? Would he talk to her? Would he explain?
When she returned, the house was quiet. But the study door was open, and inside—Dominic sat behind his desk, waiting.
He looked up when she stepped in.
Neither of them spoke.
Ariana held his gaze. “Thank you… for today.”
Dominic stood slowly. Walked around the desk.
And for the first time since they’d met, he didn’t reach for her body.
He reached for her hand.
Ariana’s breath caught.
His fingers were cold. But his grip was firm. He guided her to the couch, sat beside her, and stared at the wall before he spoke.
“My father used to beat my mother,” he said, voice low, rough. “She stayed because she loved him. Because she was weak.”
Ariana froze.
“He told me love was a leash. That if you feel, you lose.”
He turned to her. “That’s why I bought you. Controlled you. Because I couldn’t afford to feel.”
She blinked, heart aching at his confession.
“But now?” he said quietly. “Now I feel like I’m losing control every time I look at you.”
Tears welled in her eyes.
Dominic leaned closer. Pressed his forehead to hers.
“This is new for me, Ariana. I’m not asking you to forgive everything. Just… don’t give up on me yet.”
She nodded slowly.
And in that quiet, tangled moment—they weren’t cage and captive.
They were two broken people… learning how to hold each other.
- Writer
