Forced Hearts [WilliamEst]

Chapter 3

The days after Est and William’s wedding were filled with a cold war of sorts, silent skirmishes in a grand house that somehow felt even bigger with the two of them avoiding each other. They fell into a routine quickly—one that revolved around avoiding each other as much as possible.

Est barely unpacked, his side of the house sparse and untouched, his belongings still in boxes scattered around his room. He refused to let himself feel at home here, in this life he never chose. Meanwhile, William settled in easily, as if unaffected, filling his space with books, framed photos, and hints of the life he led before this forced arrangement.

They slept in separate rooms on opposite sides of the house, an arrangement that offered both distance and a strange comfort. Every morning, they managed to pass each other in the hall without acknowledgment, like strangers who just happened to occupy the same space.

But breakfast was a different story. Every morning, William insisted on having breakfast prepared for both of them, which only annoyed Est even more. Today, Est walked into the dining room to find William already seated, reading the news on his tablet.

“Good morning,” William said without looking up, his tone formal.

Est sat down without responding, opting instead to stir his coffee with exaggerated slowness. William finally glanced up, an eyebrow raised as he noted the tension in Est’s posture.

“Did you sleep well?” William asked, an innocent enough question but with just a hint of a challenge beneath the polite surface.

Est gave a short laugh. “Perfectly, knowing I was far away from you.”

William smirked. “Is that why you’re looking so refreshed this morning?” He gestured to the faint circles under Est’s eyes. “Or maybe it’s the late nights filming that’s catching up with you.”

Est’s jaw tightened. “Not everyone spends their days sitting behind a desk. Some of us actually work.”

William’s eyes narrowed, a faint smirk lingering. “I work too, Est. Just because it’s not on a screen doesn’t mean it’s any less demanding.”

Est scoffed, pushing his plate away untouched. “Demanding? You mean sitting in boardrooms with people kissing up to you because your father is a big shot?”

William leaned forward, his gaze suddenly sharp. “Don’t pretend to know what I do, Est. I didn’t ask for any of this either, but at least I’m trying to make the best of it.”

“Make the best of it? This marriage is a prison sentence, William. And I don’t plan on staying locked up any longer than I have to.”

William’s smirk faded, replaced by a flash of irritation. “Fine. Stay in your room, sulk, and hate the world if that’s what makes you feel better. But maybe you should consider acting like an adult instead of throwing a fit every time you don’t get what you want.”

Est’s eyes burned with anger, but before he could respond, William stood up and left the room.

***

The same pattern continued for days—brief encounters where they exchanged barbed words, followed by hours of silence as they each threw themselves into their own lives.

One evening, Est came home late after a grueling day on set, his energy drained and his patience nearly gone. He found William waiting in the living room, casually reading a book. Without looking up, William said, “You’re late.”

Est rolled his eyes, tossing his bag onto the couch. “I didn’t know I had a curfew.”

“Just checking if you were okay. I heard about the long hours on set.” William’s tone was neutral, but there was a flicker of something almost like concern.

Est paused, a little taken aback, before snapping back. “I’m fine. I don’t need your concern.”

William didn’t respond, just gave a slight nod before returning to his book. The silence that filled the room felt heavier than usual, layered with words left unsaid.

***

A few days later, Est was in the kitchen late at night, trying to make a snack. He’d never been much of a cook, and it showed in the mess of ingredients scattered across the counter. William walked in, his expression unreadable as he observed Est fumbling with a knife.

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” William asked, his tone annoyingly amused.

Est shot him a glare. “I don’t need your help.”

William sighed, moving closer. “Here, you’re holding it wrong,” he said, reaching out to guide Est’s hand.

Est jerked his hand back, his voice sharp. “I said, I don’t need your help!”

William’s patience finally snapped. “You know what, Est? You’re right. Maybe I should just leave you alone and let you make a fool of yourself.”

“Fine!” Est shot back. “I’m tired of this, of pretending we’re even remotely compatible!”

William’s jaw clenched. “I never asked for this either. But unlike you, I’m at least trying to make it work instead of fighting at every turn.”

“Trying?” Est laughed bitterly. “This isn’t trying, William. This is you acting like you’re above it all, like you’re doing me a favor just by existing.”

For a moment, they stood in silence, both breathing heavily, eyes locked in an unspoken battle of wills. But this time, something softened in William’s gaze, a flicker of something that looked almost like understanding.

He sighed, stepping back. “Look, we’re both stuck here, like it or not. I just… I don’t want us to keep tearing each other apart over something we can’t control.”

Est was silent, his anger slowly fading, replaced by a feeling he couldn’t quite place.

Without another word, William turned and left the kitchen, leaving Est alone, the tension lingering like a storm about to break.