Embers Of Hope

Chapter 7

Blake's POV

No one knows how hard it is when your mood is constantly changing—from it's okay, to I don't care, I'm fine, to I don't know how much more I can take. It's a silent battle that no one sees, and I'm stuck in the middle of it. I've always been the one in control, always had a clear line of what needed to be done. But now, nothing makes sense, not even the things I used to be certain about.

Like Maya.

I thought this marriage would be simple. A game of strategy, another move on the board. But she's not a piece I can move—she's the one who keeps shifting the rules.

I thought if we made this alliance work, the rest would fall into place. I thought we could figure things out along the way, but all I did was make her feel trapped. Like she's nothing more than a tool for me to use, for the business.

I glance at her taking her heels off. She's definitely buzzed. She drank a good amount at the dinner.

"Here, drink this—you look like you need it." Matteo puts down a glass of whiskey on the table in front of me.

I take the glass Matteo offers, staring at the amber liquid for a moment before taking a slow sip. The burn is familiar, but it doesn't cut through the chaos in my head. Nothing ever does.

"Thanks," I say, swirling the glass absently. Matteo watches me for a moment, his usual carefree expression replaced by something more thoughtful, more serious. He knows me too well to fall for the tough exterior tonight.

Maya, already half out of her heels, shoots me a glance. There's a flush on her cheeks from the alcohol, but even with her guard down, there's still that distance between us. I keep thinking I'll figure out how to break through it, but I'm starting to realize that every step forward just feels like two steps back.

"Alright, I'm gonna head to bed," he says, giving me a knowing look before turning to leave. "Try not to kill each other."

Matteo's words hang in the air as he leaves, the door clicking shut behind him. I'm left alone with Maya in the thick, charged silence. She's quiet, still fiddling with her heels, but I can feel the weight of her presence like a lead blanket, heavy and inescapable.

I take another slow sip of whiskey, watching her out of the corner of my eye. Her movements are deliberate, slow, as if she's forcing herself to focus on the simple task of taking off her shoes rather than acknowledging what Matteo just implied. It's strange—how we're married yet seem like strangers most of the time. Everything between us is calculated, like two people playing a game no one really wants to win.

Maya finally kicks her shoes aside and stands, crossing the room toward the window. She doesn't look at me, doesn't acknowledge my presence as she stares out at the city lights. The glow from outside casts a soft, almost ethereal light on her face.

I should say something, break the silence. But what?

"You should go to sleep you drank a lot."

Maya turns to me. She tilts her head, narrowing her eyes at me like she's trying to figure out what I'm saying. Then she snorts, clearly amused by her own thoughts. "You're always so serious, Blakey. So... uptight. Loosen up a little."

I stand up finish the class of whiskey and walk toward her, "You need to sober up."

She rolls her eyes at me, sitting on the kitchen counter. "You're no fun. Always bossing me around, telling me what to do. Who died and made you queen?"

I walk up to her but keep a little space between us. "Why are you always so stubborn Mio Sole?"

Maya leans back on the counter, a slight smirk playing on her lips as she meets my gaze. "Stubbornness is my specialty. Besides, someone has to keep you on your toes."