The night was heavy, soaked with the scent of impending rain and the ache of tension that clung to every surface of the Valerio estate. Inside the manor, silence hung like a veil, fragile and ready to tear. Lydia stood by the tall arched window in her room, her hands clasped before her, trembling slightly as she stared into the restless dark.
She could feel him.
Even before the soft creak of the door, even before his breath cut into the air between them, Lydia knew Adrian was there. His presence had always stirred something inside her—a thrum deep in her chest that vibrated with equal parts fear and longing.
Tonight, it was different.
He stepped in without a word, closing the door with a soft but final click. His jaw was clenched, his black shirt undone at the collar, sleeves rolled up to his forearms like he'd ripped himself from something brutal to be here.
And in truth, he had.
"You're avoiding me."
Lydia's spine straightened. "I'm tired."
Adrian let out a cold, humorless chuckle. "Try another lie, Lydia. You used to be better at them."
She turned slowly, facing him. Her eyes, once warm and soft with the echo of a woman falling in love, were now guarded, glassy with things unsaid. "You've been hiding something from me, Adrian."
He moved closer, slowly, each step controlled. Dangerous. "And you think your answer is to run? Every time we get close, you pull away like you expect me to vanish."
"Because I don't trust you!" she snapped.
There. The words broke free like shattered glass. And they cut.
Adrian stopped inches from her, his chest rising and falling like a storm barely contained. "Say that again."
She swallowed but didn't flinch. "I don't trust you."
His hand shot out, not to hurt, never that, but to seize her wrist, not roughly, but with enough fire to make her pulse race.
"Then what the hell are we doing, Lydia? What is this marriage if you're going to treat me like the enemy?"
Her voice trembled. "You were never supposed to be my enemy. But you're a stranger who became my husband. And now you're a stranger with secrets."
He stared at her for a long, weighted moment. "You want truth? You couldn't handle the truth of my world, Lydia. But you're already in it. And I'm done watching you drift further away from me like I'm some cursed thing."
She tried to pull away. He didn't let her.
"Let go," she whispered.
"No."
It wasn't rage that darkened his voice, but a lover's desperation. "You think I don't see the way you look at me now? Like I'm becoming the monster you were warned about. You think I haven't noticed the tears you hide when you think I'm not watching?"
"Because I don't know how to love someone like you!" she cried, finally breaking. "Because you make me feel like I'm drowning in a sea of fire, and I don't know how to survive it!"
Adrian's grip loosened.
The room went quiet, except for her sobs and the sound of thunder in the distance.
He lifted his hand, slowly brushing her cheek with a touch so gentle it unraveled something inside her.
"Then let it consume you," he whispered.
She looked up at him, breath caught.
"What?"
"Let it consume you. Let me consume you. We don't need to survive it, Lydia. We need to burn through it. Together."
The fire that sparked between them had always been smoldering. But now, it ignited.
She didn't remember who kissed first. Maybe he did, maybe it was her. Maybe it was the ache, the anger, the fury of everything unsaid exploding between them. Their mouths collided like colliding stars, hands tangled in fabric and hair, gasps drowned in a kiss that hurt and healed.
He pinned her against the wall, lips trailing fire down her neck. She trembled, not from fear, but from finally giving in. Her fingers clawed at his shirt, tearing the buttons, needing to feel the heat of his skin.
"I hate you sometimes," she gasped.
"Then hate me with your whole soul. But don't ever pull away again."
They sank to the floor, consumed by a need deeper than touch. There, in the half-lit room, between shattered pride and fragile forgiveness, they found a kind of truth that only pain and love could create.
Hours later, when she lay curled beside him, tangled in his arms, she whispered, "I don't want to lose myself in you."
Adrian kissed her forehead, his voice gruff with tenderness. "Then let me help you find yourself in us."
Unseen through the window, eyes watched from the shadows of the estate gardens. The villain,
cloaked in darkness, smirked.
Cracks were forming. And soon, one would break