Night
353 Words
The echoes of laughter and clinking glasses still lingered in the grand hall, but the wedding banquet had ended. One by one, the guests left, leaving the Knight estate wrapped in silence.
Evelyn was escorted into the so-called bridal chamber. Unlike the glass towers of the city, this room was drenched in tradition—carved mahogany screens, embroidered silk drapes, and two crimson candles burning steadily on the table. It was an anachronism, a deliberate display of the Knight family’s ironclad customs.
The heavy door closed behind her. She sat at the edge of the bed, back straight, fingers interlaced tightly on her lap. The silence pressed against her chest, amplifying every anxious thought.
The door opened again. Adrian stepped inside, sharp in a black tailored suit, his expression carved from ice. His gaze swept over her as if she were nothing more than a possession, necessary but unwanted.
“From tonight onward, you bear the Knight name,” he said, voice firm and merciless.
Evelyn parted her lips, but before she could speak, his hand lifted slightly, as if delivering judgment.
“Rule one—do not touch anything in my study without permission.”
Her heart skipped. His study? What was he hiding there?
“Rule two—never ask about the Third Estate.”
Her eyes flickered, quietly memorizing the words: Third Estate.
“Rule three—you will uphold the Knight name, even against the cruelest rumors.”
His fingers tightened at his side for the briefest moment before he released them, as though covering a trace of emotion.
“And finally—do not expect affection from me.”
At those words, his gaze faltered, shifting away. The candlelight threw shadows across his face, concealing something unspoken.
Evelyn lowered her lashes and whispered, “I understand.”
Yet in her heart, she was dissecting each rule, turning them into clues.
When Adrian left, a draft of wind made the flames quiver. Evelyn looked at the flickering light, a faint smile curving her lips.
If this was to be a battle, she would not be the one to lose.
- Writer
