Bound by Duty

#5 - Unspoken Words

The days following the wedding had passed in a blur of muted conversations, polite gestures, and heavy silences. The house that Elena had once imagined as a home—filled with warmth and laughter—now felt like a hollow shell, echoing only the footsteps of two people who were living together but not truly with each other. Every morning, Elena would rise early, slipping into the formal attire that was expected of her, and sit at the long dining table where Adrian would join her for breakfast.

The routine felt robotic, like they were acting out a scene from a play they didn't understand. Adrian would nod politely, ask about her day with detached interest, and then leave for his office, disappearing into the work that took up much of his time. Elena, in turn, would retreat to her study or the library, pouring herself into books—books about love, about marriage, about history. But none of them offered the answers she sought.

When he returned in the evenings, there was an awkward formality to their interactions. He would remove his jacket, hang it on the back of a chair, and ask if she had eaten, if she had rested well. The question was always the same, but the answer was always the same too. She had eaten alone. She had rested little. They were two strangers in the same house, bound by a contract neither of them had chosen.

But as much as Elena longed for a breakthrough, she had no idea how to approach Adrian. She didn't even know where to begin. What could they talk about? What could they share? There was no foundation between them, no shared history to build on. Their only connection was the ceremonial vows they had exchanged, words they had spoken but not yet understood.

One evening, after a particularly tiring day spent poring over documents that were meant to be "family affairs," Elena sat in the parlor, staring into the fire. The flames danced before her eyes, their warmth almost mocking the coldness in the room. She tried to focus on the flames, the way the light flickered, but her thoughts kept returning to Adrian—his impassive face, his formal gestures, his distance.

What was this marriage becoming? Was this all it would ever be?

As she sat in the dimly lit room, the heavy silence weighing on her shoulders, Elena felt the first stirrings of something—an itch at the back of her mind. She could not keep living like this. She could not continue to exist in a state of polite indifference. If she was going to live the rest of her life with Adrian, she needed something more. She needed to know him. And more importantly, she needed him to know her.

That was when the door creaked open, and Adrian entered the room.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. He closed the door quietly behind him and stood there, as if waiting for some cue. Elena's heart began to race. She was about to do something she had been avoiding for days. She was about to break the silence.

"Adrian," she said softly, almost as a question. Her voice faltered at first, uncertain. "Can we talk?"

His gaze shifted to her, and for the first time in days, he didn't immediately look away. He seemed to hesitate, his brow furrowing slightly as he considered her words. Then, without saying anything, he nodded, walking over to a chair across from hers and sitting down.

Elena swallowed, trying to steady herself. This was it. This was her chance to finally get past the walls they had built around themselves, even if it meant confronting all the uncomfortable truths they had been avoiding.

"I can't do this anymore," she said quietly, the words spilling out before she could stop them. "I can't keep pretending like everything is fine. Like we're okay. I don't even know who you are, Adrian. And I'm... I'm scared."

Adrian blinked, his features softening slightly, though his gaze remained guarded. "I'm not sure I know who I am either," he replied, his voice quieter than usual. "Not anymore, anyway."

The admission surprised Elena. It wasn't much, but it was a crack in the wall he had so carefully built around himself. It was an opening, a chink in his armor.

She leaned forward slightly, her heart pounding in her chest. "Then how do we move forward? How do we make this work if we don't know each other? If we're just... two strangers living together?"

Adrian looked away, his jaw tightening. His hands, which had been resting on his knees, were clenched into fists. Elena wondered if he, too, was feeling the weight of it all—this marriage they had both been forced into. She had assumed that he was indifferent to her, to the arrangement, but now she wasn't so sure.

"I don't know," he said after a long pause, his voice almost a whisper. "I don't know how to make this work, Elena. I've spent my life doing what's expected of me. Following the rules. Doing what my family and society think is best. I've never had to question it before."

His words resonated with her. She, too, had lived a life dictated by duty—by the expectations of her family, her social circle, and even the world at large. The weight of it had been heavy, suffocating at times. But there was no choice. She had done what was expected. And now, she had no idea how to break free from it.

"You think I haven't spent my life doing the same?" Elena replied, her voice tinged with bitterness. "I've spent my whole life preparing to be someone's wife. To marry for the benefit of my family. I've never asked myself what I want. And now here I am, with a man I don't know, in a house I don't recognize, living a life I didn't choose. How am I supposed to figure out how to love you when I don't even know where to begin?"

The silence that followed was heavy. Both of them sat there, the weight of their shared truth hanging in the air between them. For the first time since their wedding, Elena didn't feel so alone in her thoughts. She realized that Adrian had been living in the same suffocating cage of expectations, struggling with the same isolation she had felt. They weren't as different as she had believed.

"I'm sorry," Adrian said after a moment, his voice barely audible. "I didn't mean for you to feel like this. I didn't know how... how hard it would be."

Elena shook her head, her frustration rising. "It's not your fault," she said. "We've both been caught up in something bigger than us. We're just... playing the parts we were given."

There was a long pause before Adrian spoke again, his tone more resolute. "But we don't have to keep playing those parts, Elena. Not if we don't want to."

Her heart fluttered at his words. Could it be possible? Could they build something real from this marriage? Something that wasn't about duty or expectation? The idea was terrifying—and yet, a small part of her felt the spark of hope that perhaps this was the beginning of something else.

She looked up at him, her voice barely above a whisper. "What do we do now?"

Adrian's gaze met hers, and for the first time, Elena saw a flicker of something genuine—something beyond the mask he had been wearing. "We start by being honest with each other," he said softly. "We take it one step at a time. We can't undo everything that's been done to us, but we can at least try to figure out who we are—together."

The words hung in the air between them. Elena didn't know where this would lead. But for the first time since they had met, she felt a glimmer of something more than just obligation—a connection, fragile but real, forming between them.