The story is about love and doubt in a world of wealth and power. Maevie Ellington is married to the cold and distant Eiden Hillmont. She struggles to find her place in his world. Despite her deep love for him, she is plagued by insecurities. She qu...
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Eiden finished the last sip of his drink, the warmth of the liquor lingering as he made his way to their bedroom. The door creaked softly as he entered, his gaze immediately falling on Maevie, who lay sleeping peacefully on the bed. Her back was turned to him, her body curled slightly as if seeking comfort in the soft blankets.
He quietly stepped into the washroom, letting the hot water of the bath soothe the tension in his muscles. The steam enveloped him, but even as the heat relaxed his body, his thoughts remained fixed on her.
After the bath, he changed into more comfortable clothes and returned to the bedroom. As he approached the bed, he paused, his eyes softening as they traced the gentle curves of her face. She had turned in her sleep, now facing him, her expression serene and relaxed. The tension she often carried during the day was absent, replaced by a look of pure tranquility.
He stood by the bed, just watching her. There was a fragility to her in sleep as if the layers she wrapped around herself during the day had been carefully peeled away, leaving her raw and exposed. It was in these quiet moments that he felt he could see the real Maevie—the one who wasn't burdened by expectations, by the weight of the life they shared.
"You're so pretty, Maevie," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking any louder would disturb her peaceful slumber. He reached out, cupping her face gently with his hand, his thumb brushing lightly against her cheek. Her skin was warm under his touch, soft like the petals of a flower that only bloomed under the moon's gentle gaze.
His heart swelled with a mix of emotions—love, protectiveness, and a deep, unspoken yearning. He marveled at the way her presence filled the room, even in silence. She was like a delicate piece of art, crafted with such care and grace, yet so unknowingly powerful in her quietness. "It must be wonderful to sleep like this," he thought, his eyes reflecting the soft light of the room. Watching her sleep, he felt a sense of calm wash over him, the weight of the day's burdens momentarily forgotten.
Maevie murmured something in her sleep, her lips forming silent words. The sound was so faint, so vulnerable, that it made his heart ache with tenderness. A small, almost shy smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he continued to watch her, his hand still cradling her face.
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