Unspoken

So, you don't hate me...

As she wandered through the darkened hallways, the scent of rain filled the air. She found herself in Eiden's office, but he wasn't there. "Where did he go?" she wondered aloud, a frown forming on her face. She checked the clock, noting how late it was. "He should be in bed by now... why isn't he here?"

She searched through several rooms, her sore legs protesting with each step. "Maybe he's in the library," she thought, but after checking, she found it empty as well.

"Where the hell is he?" she muttered under her breath, her frustration growing with each passing moment. She thought back to the way he'd been acting lately—distant, distracted, almost as if he were hiding something. "Why is he always so secretive? What is he keeping from me?"

Finally, she reached the lounge near the back of the manor, the storm still raging outside. She spotted him standing by the window, cigarette in one hand, a glass of vodka in the other, staring out into the rain.

"Eiden," she called softly, stepping into the room. He didn't turn immediately, but she could see his shoulders tense at the sound of her voice.

"Maevie," he replied, his voice low, almost resigned. "What are you doing up? It's late."

"I could ask you the same thing," she said, moving closer. "I couldn't sleep, and then I couldn't find you. I've been searching everywhere."

He finally turned to face her, his expression guarded. "I just needed some time alone. To think."

"Think about what?" she pressed gently, trying to understand what was going on inside his head. "Is something bothering you? You seem... different."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's nothing And why do you care..."

Maevie frowned, sensing there was more to Eiden's brooding than he was willing to reveal. Determined, she tried to lighten the mood. "As long as you're my husband, I will care," she said while walking over to the counter, pouring herself a glass of vodka as if to mirror him.

Eiden turned sharply, concern flashing in his usually composed eyes. "Wait. Don't drink that. You won't handle it," he warned his voice a mixture of authority and worry.

She raised an eyebrow, meeting his gaze with a hint of defiance. "Really? I can handle it. I'm not a baby." With that, she took a sip—and immediately regretted it. The burning sensation hit her throat, and she spat the vodka out, coughing. "Ho...how do you even drink this? Eww, my throat... it's burning," she sputtered, trying to clear her throat.

Eiden couldn't help but chuckle, the sound rare and unexpected. He turned back to the window, the amusement lingering in his voice. "I told you."

She frowned, half-annoyed, half-amused, her curiosity piqued. "How are you even alive after drinking this?"

He stayed silent, his expression darkening as he returned to his thoughts. The mood shifted back to the tension from earlier.

Maevie, not willing to let him off the hook, pressed further. "Well, tell me, why are you so concerned and thinking?" she asked, moving closer to him. She leaned against the large window, her side brushing against the cold glass as she faced him.

Eiden hesitated, his eyes fixed on the rain pounding against the glass. Finally, he spoke, his voice low. "It's nothing... I was thinking about...uh... marrying you," he admitted, his tone almost reluctant as if revealing too much of his guarded heart.

Maevie raised an eyebrow, her tone was cautious, almost teasing. "That's Random But why...Do you regret it now?"

He shook his head, though his eyes remained distant. "No, it's not that. I can just understand how much you must hate it... how much you must hate me," he confessed, his voice quiet as he crushed the cigarette in the ashtray, the action final.

She rolled her eyes, clearly frustrated by his assumption. "Hate?" she echoed, her voice sharp with disbelief. "If I ever hated you, I would never allow you to touch me," she stated, her tone firm as she began to walk toward the door.

Eiden's gaze followed her, his voice soft, almost vulnerable. "So, you don't hate me..." The question hung in the air, making her pause.

She turned back to him, her expression serious, arms crossed defensively. "I hate my parents for it, not you. Hating you doesn't change anything. You obeyed your father, and I did the same. That's all."

He studied her, trying to decipher her words, but she continued before he could respond. "As I told you, if I ever hated you, I would never even share my body with you, Eiden," she added, her tone unwavering.

Eiden took a step closer, his eyes searching hers. "But that night... we were both drunk, weren't we?" he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity and something deeper.

Maevie held his gaze, unflinching. "I was in my senses, though, and what about yesterday.." she replied evenly. Without another word, she turned and left the room, leaving Eiden standing there, alone with his thoughts.

As the door closed behind her, Eiden stared at the space where she had been. The storm outside mirrored the turmoil in his mind, each raindrop a reminder of the emotions he had tried so hard to suppress. He had always kept his guard up, but Maevie's words, her presence, were slowly chipping away at the walls he had built around himself.