After running into each other at the ball, Benedict and Amelia feel an instant spark. But what happens when Benedict learns that Amelia suffers painfully in her family's estate? To what lengths will Benedict go to make sure Amelia will never be hurt...
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Benedict's POV.
I walked in through the front door of my estate feeling absolutely awful. I felt like the air had been extracted from my lungs. My family stared back at me, with worried faces.
"How did it go?" Asked Hyacinth, asking the question everyone wanted to say, but were too lost in thought to do so.
"Not how I expected." I said aloud, my eyes on the floor.
Anthony approached and patted me on the back. "That bad?"
"Horrible." I replied shortly. "I'm settling for the day. Goodnight." I could not take their pitiful eyes anymore and decided to retire to my chambers for the night.
Arriving into my bedroom, I shut the door. What had I done wrong? Had I offended her in some way? Had I hurt her? Had I said the wrong thing? Had I not been good enough of a friend?
The questions were limitless, but there had to be something I'd done for her to walk away from me without even giving me a chance to fix whatever I had done. And to think she was merely across the street, but I couldn't see her. She didn't want to. So close, yet so far.
My eyes spotted the canvas at the corner of my room. I immediately shut my eyes. I didn't want to see it. It was a painting... of Amelia. The brown hues I'd mixed together made the perfect golden colour to mimic her dark skin. And the way her curls framed her face. She was perfect. With eyes so innocent and pure with kindness. And to think I'd hurt her in some way... my hands curled into fists at the thought.
Maybe it was best for me to stay away from her. She didn't deserve to be surrounded by the likes of me. She was too good. Too sweet. Too perfect.
I slowly opened my eyes and moved my gaze back up to the canvas, Amelia's frame staring down at me kindly.
"What did I do to you, you poor soul?" I whispered out. Before I knew what I was doing I grabbed a tube of red paint, smearing it all over my hands before slamming my palms against the painting. The red paint began to cover the surface of the canvas and slowly, Amelia's beautiful smile disappeared behind the burgundy colour.
I couldn't wake up and see this painting in the corner of my room, knowing that I could not see her again. So, I covered the whole canvas with nothing but red. A weirdly accurate description of my feelings.
Yes, I was angry. But not at her. No. How could I ever be? I was angry at myself. For daring to ever come close to a human as kind as Amelia. For thinking I deserved her friendship. I was a fool.
Amelia's POV.
I felt weak at the knees the next morning, the sun had risen and it was way past the time for me to be on my feet. I glanced at my night stand. 10:45 am.
I heard a knock coming from my door.
"Honey?" I heard the sweetness of my mother's voice. "Are you feeling unwell?" She asked, a hint of worry in her voice. "Breakfast was hours ago." Silence loomed between her words as she awaited an answer from me. I buried my head into my pillow, not bothering to say a single thing. "I saved you some in case you wanted." Another ten seconds of silence. "Amelia. My dear, what is the matter?"
