The Vowshade dynasty

Chapter: The Distance Between Us

Sofia woke to the pale sunlight slipping through the curtains. For a few seconds, she forgot where she was. Then she noticed the unfamiliar ceiling, the enormous bed, and the heavy silence surrounding her.

Reality returned all at once.

She was still in Roman's quarter.

With a sigh, she sat up and glanced toward the bedside table. A glass of water stood beside a small plate of fresh fruit.

There was another note.

Breakfast is downstairs. Try not to start a war before you've had something to eat.

Sofia stared at the handwriting.

"Arrogant i***t," she muttered.

Yet, despite herself, the corner of her mouth lifted.

She quickly forced the smile away, annoyed that he could make her react to something as ridiculous as a note.

After getting dressed, she left the bedroom and followed the unfamiliar corridor toward the stairs.

The mansion was already awake. Guards stood near the entrance, and two men spoke quietly beside the staircase. Both fell silent when they noticed her.

Sofia lowered her eyes and continued walking.

She didn't belong here.

She didn't want to belong here.

When she reached the dining room, Roman was seated at the head of the table, dressed in a black shirt with his sleeves folded to his elbows. A cup of coffee rested in one hand while he read something on his phone.

He looked up as she entered.

"Good morning, sunshine."

Sofia stopped.

"Are you talking to me?"

"Unless there's another person standing behind you."

She glanced over her shoulder.

Roman put down his phone. "You actually checked?"

"Maybe someone sensible was standing behind me."

"Then I suppose I'll have to search the mansion."

She rolled her eyes and took a seat at the opposite end of the table.

Roman watched her inspect the breakfast laid before her.

"Something wrong?"

"No."

"You're looking at the eggs as if they've personally offended you."

"I'm deciding whether they're safe."

He slowly set down his coffee.

"Sofia, they're eggs."

"That's exactly what someone who poisoned eggs would say."

For a moment, Roman simply stared at her.

Then he laughed.

Not the cold, controlled sound she had heard when he spoke to his men, but a genuine laugh that softened his otherwise intimidating expression.

Sofia looked away quickly.

She didn't want to discover that the terrifying Roman could sometimes look almost ordinary.

"Eat," he said, recovering his composure.

"Stop giving me orders."

"Please eat."

She looked at him suspiciously.

"Was that supposed to be manners?"

"I'm experimenting. Don't ruin it."

A small laugh escaped her before she could stop it.

Roman noticed, but this time he didn't tease her about it.

Instead, he returned to his coffee and allowed her to eat in peace.

For several minutes, the only sounds were the clinking of cutlery and the distant movement of the household staff.

Then Sofia noticed something.

"Don't you ever eat breakfast?"

"I do."

"Then why are you only drinking coffee?"

"Because I'm busy."

"Doing what? Planning world domination?"

"That was scheduled for Thursday. Today, I have meetings."

She almost choked on her juice.

Roman's mouth curved into a faint smile.

"There. That's the second time you've laughed at one of my jokes."

"Don't get excited. It was an accident."

"Of course."

She returned to her breakfast, determined not to give him another opportunity.

Unfortunately, Roman seemed to enjoy making that difficult.

After breakfast, Sofia wandered toward the large windows overlooking the garden.

Outside, the grounds were covered in a thin layer of snow. Tall pine trees stood along the stone path, and a small fountain sat frozen near the center.

It was beautiful.

That made her sad.

She wrapped her arms around herself and stared at the garden.

"You're going to freeze standing there."

Sofia turned.

Roman stood several feet away, holding a dark coat.

"I'm inside."

"And yet you're shivering."

"I'm not."

He raised an eyebrow.

She glared at him.

Without moving closer, he held out the coat.

"Take it if you want to go outside."

She stared at it, uncertain.

"Why?"

"Because it's cold."

"That's not what I meant."

Roman understood the question beneath hers. Why was he being considerate now, after treating her so cruelly?

His expression grew serious.

"You don't have to accept anything from me, Sofia. But you don't have to refuse everything just because it comes from me, either."

She looked down at the coat.

"I don't know how to act around you."

For once, Roman didn't answer immediately.

"You don't have to act any particular way around me."

"Easy for you to say. You own this house. You have guards everywhere. Everyone listens when you speak."

"And you don't."

"Because you don't listen when I speak!"

Her voice echoed through the room.

Roman's expression tightened, but he didn't interrupt her.

Sofia swallowed.

"I tell you I'm frightened, and you tell me to eat. I tell you I want to go home, and you act as if I'm being difficult. You keep trying to be nice to me, but you don't understand that I never asked to be here."

The silence that followed felt enormous.

Roman lowered the coat.

"You're right."

Sofia blinked.

She had expected an argument. Perhaps even anger.

She hadn't expected those two words.

Roman looked toward the windows.

"I keep trying to fix the things that are easiest to fix," he admitted. "Food. Clothes. A warm room."

"And the things that matter?"

His jaw tightened.

"I'm not sure I know how to fix those."

For the first time, Sofia saw something in his expression that resembled uncertainty.

It didn't erase her fear or change the situation between them.

But it made her realize that Roman wasn't accustomed to admitting when he didn't have an answer.

She looked away first.

"I want to go outside."

Roman held out the coat again.

"Then go outside."

She took it cautiously.

Their fingers didn't touch.

Somehow, that small distance made the moment easier.

The garden was colder than Sofia had expected.

She pulled the coat tightly around herself and followed the stone path, stopping beside the frozen fountain.

Roman remained near the entrance, speaking briefly with one of his guards. He didn't follow her immediately, and she appreciated that he had given her a little space.

She bent down and picked up a small handful of snow.

Then another.

Soon, she was shaping it into a tiny snowman beside the fountain.

She had just finished placing two small stones for its eyes when a shadow fell across the path.

Roman stood beside her.

"What is that?"

Sofia looked up at him.

"An architectural masterpiece."

"It looks like a potato."

"It's a snowman."

"An unfortunate snowman."

She gasped in mock outrage.

"You have absolutely no artistic appreciation."

"I run a criminal empire. Art isn't exactly a job requirement."

"That explains so much about your personality."

Roman crouched beside her, inspecting the snowman.

"What does it need?"

Sofia hesitated.

Then she pointed toward a small twig near the path.

"Arms."

Roman picked it up and carefully pushed it into the snow.

One arm pointed upward. The other pointed almost directly at Sofia.

She burst out laughing.

"What?" he asked.

"Your snowman is accusing me of something."

"Perhaps it has good judgment."

She gathered another handful of snow and placed it on top of the snowman's head.

"There. Now it looks less like you."

Roman turned to her slowly.

"Careful, Sofia."

"Or what? You'll arrest me for insulting a snowman?"

"I might make you build another one."

She laughed again.

For a few minutes, they remained beside the fountain, arguing over the snowman's appearance as though they were two ordinary people with nothing more serious to worry about.

Eventually, Sofia's hands began to turn red from the cold.

Roman noticed.

"That's enough."

"I'm nearly finished."

"Your fingers are freezing."

"I can manage."

He removed his gloves and held them out to her.

Sofia looked at them, then at him.

"What about you?"

"I'll survive."

She hesitated before taking them.

They were too large for her hands, but warm.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

Roman looked at her.

It was such a small thing—two simple words. Yet he seemed to understand that she hadn't said them because she was afraid of him or because she felt obligated to.

"You're welcome."

He didn't make a joke about it.

He didn't ask her to smile.

He simply stood beside her while the snow fell around them.

And for a little while, neither of them spoke.

That evening, Sofia sat near the bedroom window with a book she had found in the library.

She had read the same paragraph four times without understanding a single word.

Her thoughts kept returning to the garden.

To Roman's ridiculous snowman.

To the way he had listened when she finally told him what she felt.

She closed the book with a frustrated sigh.

"This is getting ridiculous."

"What is?"

Sofia nearly dropped the book.

Roman stood in the doorway, looking mildly amused.

"Do you ever knock?"

"I did."

"I didn't hear you."

"That sounds like a personal problem."

She threw a cushion at him.

He caught it, but this time he placed it carefully on the chair rather than throwing it back.

"I brought something."

He held out a small object.

Sofia approached cautiously.

It was a little silver snowflake, attached to a simple chain.

She stared at it.

"What's this?"

"A gift."

"Why?"

Roman seemed to consider the question.

"Because you spent the afternoon making a snowman, and I thought you might like something to remember it by."

She looked up at him, surprised.

"You bought me a necklace because of a snowman?"

"When you say it like that, it sounds considerably less impressive."

"It sounds ridiculous."

"Then you don't have to keep it."

He started to withdraw his hand.

Sofia reached out and took the necklace.

"I didn't say I didn't like it."

Roman paused.

She turned the little snowflake between her fingers, studying the delicate details.

"It's pretty," she admitted.

"I'm glad."

"But don't think this changes anything."

"I don't."

She glanced at him.

"Really?"

"Really."

He didn't ask her to forgive him. He didn't tell her she owed him a chance.

He simply let the gift remain what it was: a small gesture that couldn't erase the much bigger wrong he had done.

Sofia sat down again, placing the necklace on the bedside table.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

"Why do you always act as if nothing bothers you?"

Roman's expression changed.

For a moment, she thought he wouldn't answer.

"Because people look for weaknesses," he said eventually. "And I learned a long time ago that showing them what hurts you gives them something to use against you."

Sofia studied him.

"That sounds lonely."

He gave a humorless smile.

"It can be."

She hadn't expected him to admit that, either.

A quiet moment passed between them.

Then Sofia spoke, her voice softer than before.

"You don't have to pretend all the time."

Roman looked at her as if she had offered him something he didn't know how to accept.

"Perhaps," he said.

It wasn't a promise.

But it was an answer.

He turned toward the door.

"Goodnight, Sofia."

She looked at the necklace once more.

"Goodnight, Roman."

He paused at the sound of his name.

Then he left, closing the door gently behind him.

Sofia picked up the little snowflake and held it beneath the light.

She still wanted to leave the mansion. She still wanted her freedom, and she hadn't forgotten how she had been brought here.

But something had changed.

Not in the world around her.

Not in the rules Roman had created.

Only in the quiet spaces between their arguments, where a little laughter had begun to appear.

She wasn't falling in love with him.

She refused to even consider it.

She was simply beginning to see the person behind the frightening name.

And perhaps that was the most dangerous beginning of all.