His name was Nathaniel

15

The grand manor that stood at the heart of the estate had once been a place filled with warmth and laughter. The cold, imposing walls that now seemed to suffocate its inhabitants had once echoed with the soft notes of a piano and the joyful chatter of its occupants. But all that had changed—drastically, irrevocably—when love had twisted into something far darker.

It was in these very halls, many years ago, that Nathaniel's father, Edward, had first met Elara. She was a breath of fresh air in a world that had grown stale to him. Edward had inherited everything—the wealth, the estate, the power—but he had never been able to shake the feeling that it was all a gilded cage. Then, Elara appeared, and for the first time in his life, Edward felt truly alive.

Elara was the daughter of an old family friend, brought to the manor as a guest during one of the many lavish parties his family hosted. She was unlike any of the other women Edward had known—soft-spoken, yet strong-willed, with a kindness that seemed to radiate from her every pore. Her laughter was infectious, her smile disarming, and she had a way of seeing right through Edward's carefully crafted façade.

They had met in the gardens one evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the world was painted in shades of gold and crimson. Edward had been wandering, restless and aimless, when he heard the faint strains of a melody drifting through the air. Following the sound, he found Elara seated at the grand piano in the parlor, her fingers dancing over the keys with a grace that took his breath away.

For Edward, it was love at first sight. Elara, however, was more cautious. She had heard stories of Edward—the brooding heir with a heart of stone, more concerned with power and appearances than with the people around him. But as they spent more time together, she began to see the man beneath the mask, the one who yearned for something more, something real.

Their courtship was a whirlwind, and within months, they were married. For a time, Edward was truly happy. Elara brought light into his life, a warmth that he had never known before. She challenged him, pushed him to be better, to see beyond the narrow confines of his world. And he loved her for it, more than he had ever thought possible.

But as the years passed, something changed. The pressures of his position, the weight of the expectations placed upon him, began to wear on Edward. He became increasingly controlling, desperate to keep Elara close, to mold her into the perfect wife that his status demanded. He couldn't bear the thought of losing her, of her slipping through his fingers like sand.

Elara, once so full of life, began to wilt under Edward's suffocating grip. She tried to fight it, to hold on to the man she had fallen in love with, but Edward's insecurities and fears only grew stronger. He became possessive, paranoid, convinced that everyone around him was trying to take Elara away from him.

The love that had once brought them together began to twist into something darker, something that neither of them could control. Edward's jealousy and need for control pushed Elara further away, and the more she pulled back, the tighter he tried to hold on. Their arguments became more frequent, more intense, until the walls of the manor seemed to reverberate with their pain.

Elara's health began to decline, though whether it was due to the stress of her marriage or something more insidious, no one could say. Edward, in his twisted way, believed that if he could just keep her close, just protect her from the outside world, she would be safe. But in his attempts to shield her, he only ended up hurting her more.

By the time Nathaniel was born, the cracks in their relationship had become chasms. Elara tried to pour all the love she had left into her son, but Edward's controlling nature extended to their child as well. He demanded perfection, expecting Nathaniel to be the embodiment of all his unfulfilled hopes and dreams.

Elara's health continued to deteriorate, and no matter how many doctors Edward brought in, no matter how much money he threw at the problem, nothing seemed to help. She became a shadow of the woman she once was, her light slowly dimming until it was extinguished altogether.

When Elara passed away, something inside Edward snapped. He became colder, harder, the grief twisting his love for her into a bitter resentment. He blamed everyone—himself, the doctors, even Nathaniel, in a way—for not being able to save her. But most of all, he blamed the world for taking away the only person he had ever truly loved.

In the years that followed, Edward's need for control only grew. He poured all of his energy into shaping Nathaniel into the perfect heir, determined to protect him from the world that had taken Elara away. But in doing so, he only repeated the same mistakes he had made with his wife—smothering Nathaniel with his expectations, his fears, his need to control every aspect of his life.

Edward's love, once so pure and bright, had turned into something twisted and dark. And now, as he watched his son slip further away from him, consumed by the same feelings that had once consumed him, Edward could only see one way to protect Nathaniel: by controlling him, by keeping him away from anything or anyone that could hurt him.

He would not lose his son the way he had lost Elara. No matter the cost.

But deep down, in the darkest corners of his heart, Edward knew that he was repeating the same cycle, that he was dooming Nathaniel to the same fate. And it terrified him.