Chapter 12
434 Words
Chapter 12: Unspoken Threads
The next morning, golden sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains of the bridal suite. Shanaya stirred, blinking into the soft light. She was still wearing part of her wedding dress—though her veil had slipped to the floor. Lorenzo was already gone.
The silence in the room was different now—not terrifying like before, just… still.
She sat up slowly, letting her fingers trail over the wedding band she didn’t remember putting on.
In the dining hall, Lorenzo sat sipping his coffee, reading the newspaper though his eyes hardly registered the words. When Shanaya walked in, he stood up instinctively.
“You didn’t have to wait for me,” she said softly.
“I didn’t. I just… didn’t eat yet.”
She sat across from him. The silence was awkward at first, but not cold.
“I asked the staff to prepare something light,” he said. “You probably didn’t eat anything yesterday.”
She nodded. “Thank you.”
The quiet stretched again. This time, it wasn’t uncomfortable. Just... tentative.
Days passed in gentle, silent rhythms. Lorenzo remained respectful—never overstepping, never asking too much. Shanaya, too, kept her distance but began to observe him with cautious curiosity.
He worked long hours. She noticed he often skipped meals. One afternoon, without thinking, she brought him a cup of tea to his office.
He looked up, surprised.
“I didn’t ask for this,” he said—but his voice lacked its usual edge.
“I know,” she replied, setting it down. “But you looked tired.”
For the first time, he smiled—just a little. “Thank you.”
It was small, but it was something.
That night, he returned to the suite later than usual. She was already in bed, the lamp still on. As he stepped inside, she said quietly, “Was work stressful?”
Lorenzo looked at her, then slowly walked to his side of the bed.
“Always,” he admitted, loosening his tie. “But it’s easier when I know I’m coming back to peace.”
Shanaya turned to look at him. “I never wanted this marriage.”
“I know,” he said. “Neither did I.”
“But now that we’re here… I don’t want to live like strangers,” she added bravely.
He studied her for a long moment.
“Then let’s try not to be,” he said at last.
That night, they slept closer—still not touching, still hesitant—but the space between them felt smaller. Softer. Warmer.
- Writer
