𝐄𝐙𝐄𝐊𝐈𝐄𝐋 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐞'𝐬 𝐃𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

20

The moment I saw her enter the grand hall, everything else seemed to disappear. She was breathtaking, dressed in a deep midnight-blue gown that shimmered with every step she took, as if the stars themselves had come to rest upon her. The usual luxury of the Morganthe estate—the chandeliers, the elegant decor, the refined music—all paled next to her. Akira moved through it with a grace that drew every gaze, mine most of all.

She held an air of both reluctance and curiosity as she took in her surroundings. There was a certain guardedness in her posture, a hesitation as if she were a stranger in a world she didn’t quite trust. And yet, here she was, fearless as always, walking straight into the unknown.

Without a second thought, I made my way toward her, weaving through the crowd until I was right in front of her. Her eyes widened slightly in surprise as she noticed me, only to narrow in defiance a moment later, her gaze sharp beneath her mask.

“Hello there, my Akira,” I said, my voice low as I held her gaze.

She looked up at me, a spark of defiance breaking through her composed expression. I could almost hear her thoughts, challenging why I dared call her “mine.” She lifted her chin, a silent but clear response.

“What are you doing here, Morganthe?” she asked, her voice steady, though I caught a hint of tension beneath the calm.

I leaned in, closing the space between us until only a breath separated us. “I could ask you the same thing,” I replied softly, “but I think we both know why I’m here.”

She didn’t answer, just held my gaze, unflinching. Her silence spoke volumes, a refusal to let me in, but I wasn’t backing down tonight. Not with her right in front of me, not when she was so close, just within reach.

“Dance with me,” I murmured, extending my hand in invitation. Her eyes flicked down to my hand, hesitation evident on her face. She might have turned away, but after a second, she placed her hand in mine. I felt her reluctance, but it was enough.

I led her to the center of the grand hall, and as the music softened, I placed my hand gently on her waist, pulling her close. She moved with perfect rhythm, her steps flawless, but I could feel her tension, the way she kept her distance even as I held her close.

As we moved, I leaned in, keeping my voice low. “Why do you keep running from this?” I asked, searching her gaze for answers she held back. I wanted to break through, to understand.

Her lips pressed together, her gaze hardening. “Because I know better,” she replied, her voice cold, but her eyes—they told a different story.

I held her tighter, unwilling to let her slip away. “Do you?” I challenged softly, letting the words settle. “Because right now, here with me, I don’t think you do.”

She looked away, her jaw clenched, her resolve cracking just a little. I could see it—the vulnerability she tried so hard to hide. It made me want to hold her closer, to show her she didn’t have to guard herself so fiercely.

“Akira,” I murmured, my voice softer, almost pleading, “just trust me.”

She looked back at me, and for a brief moment, something unguarded surfaced, something that almost looked like hope. But it vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by that familiar glint of defiance.

“I don’t trust easily, Morganthe. Specially you,” she replied, her voice firm, as if she were reminding herself as much as she was telling me.

Her words struck me, cutting through the facade I’d so carefully maintained. Especially you. It was both an accusation and a shield, one she wielded with precision. Akira’s guard was back up, harder than before, as though she were daring me to prove her wrong—to prove I could be different from the man she believed me to be.

But I couldn’t let her go just like that.

I held her a fraction closer, feeling the warmth of her body against mine, and caught her gaze once more, determined. “And why me, Akira? What is it about me that makes you so sure?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper, laced with equal parts challenge and vulnerability. Her eyes flickered with emotion, though she quickly masked it.

For a moment, she didn’t respond, as if weighing her words, torn between honesty and self-protection. “Because I  don’t belong in your world, and you don't belong in mine,” she finally said, her voice quieter, tinged with something that sounded almost like regret. “People like you…you play games. You win, you lose, but it’s all a performance.”

I exhaled, my fingers pressing slightly into her waist as if the contact would somehow ground her, keep her from slipping away. “Maybe I’m tired of performing,” I replied. “Maybe, with you, it’s different.”

She looked up, her brows drawing together, skepticism mingling with something softer in her gaze. It was enough for me to press forward.

“Akira,” I continued, my voice barely more than a murmur, “I’m not here to play games. Not with you.”

She let out a soft breath, a flicker of vulnerability flashing in her eyes. But in an instant, she masked it, pulling back slightly as if she could physically remove herself from the tension between us. Yet she didn’t let go of my hand, didn’t end the dance.

“That’s easy for you to say, Morganthe,” she said, but her voice wavered slightly. “People like you have everything handed to them. You can walk away any time without a scratch. But for people like me…trust isn’t something we can afford to give blindly.”

Her words hung between us, laced with a pain I hadn’t fully seen until now. This wasn’t just about me; it was a wound that ran deeper, scars from a past she guarded fiercely.

I leaned in, my lips close to her ear, feeling the weight of her words as I whispered, “Then let me earn it, Akira. Give me the chance to show you that I’m not going anywhere.”

She pulled back just enough to look up at me, her eyes searching mine, wary yet vulnerable in a way I hadn’t seen before. For the first time, I saw her doubts mingling with a flicker of hope, as if part of her wanted to believe me but was too afraid of the fall.

The music slowed, and the dance came to an end, yet we stood there, holding each other’s gaze. The room faded, the grandeur of the Morganthe estate paling in comparison to this single, fragile connection. She could walk away now; she had every reason to.