Adrian noticed the change in Lydia before she even realized it herself.
It was in the way she moved controlled, careful, as if constantly weighing every step. It was in her silences, the way she no longer met his gaze for too long, how she lingered at the edges of rooms instead of standing by his side.
She was slipping away.
The realization settled in him like a slow-burning fire. Adrian had spent years understanding people, reading between their words, predicting their actions before they even knew what they would do next. And Lydia his wife, the woman fate had bound to him in a vow neither of them had chosen was no exception.
But this wasn't defiance. This was something else.
Something deeper. The Distance Grows It started subtly.
At breakfast, she barely looked at him, stirring her tea absently while he read the morning news. He let it slide. At lunch, she excused herself earlier than usual, claiming she had a headache.
By evening, when he reached for her hand while they walked through the estate gardens, she pulled away just a fraction. But it was enough, Enough for Adrian to know something was wrong.
The worst part? She wasn't fighting with him. She wasn't angry. No sharp words, no cold glares. Just… distance.
And Adrian found that far more unsettling.
That night, he stood at the doorway of their bedroom, watching her.
Lydia sat at the vanity, brushing her hair in slow, even strokes. The warm candlelight flickered against her skin, highlighting the delicate lines of her face. She was beautiful, heartbreakingly so.
And yet, she looked lost. Adrian took a step inside, shutting the door behind him. "You've been quiet," he said.
Lydia stilled for half a second before continuing to brush her hair. "Have I?"
"Don't do that." She met his gaze through the mirror, her expression unreadable.
"Do what?" Adrian crossed the room in three strides, his presence towering over her as he reached for the brush in her hand. He set it down gently, his fingers lingering against hers for a second longer than necessary. "Lydia," he murmured, voice low, "what's going on?"
She inhaled sharply, as if bracing herself. "I don't know what you mean." A lie.
Adrian's jaw tightened. He could push. Demand answers. But something told him if he pressed too hard, she would slip even further away.
So instead, he tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Look me in the eyes and tell me you're fine."
Lydia swallowed. "I'm fine," she whispered.
Another lie. Adrian exhaled slowly. His fingers skimmed along her jaw before he released her, stepping back. If she wanted space, he would give it to her.
But not without consequences. "Fine," he said, his voice like ice. "Take all the space you want."
Then, without another word, he turned and walked away. But as he left, one thought settled darkly in his mind.
Whoever was trying to turn his wife against him… w
as going to regret it.