LONELY HEARTS
Esmé's life takes a dramatic turn when she becomes entwined with Eiser, a son from a powerful family. Haunted by loss and trapped in a loveless marriage, she battles to connect with a man who conceals his emotions behind walls of silen...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
CHAINS OF ARRANGEMENT
“We are all so much together, but we are all dying of loneliness.” — Albert Schweitzer
Esmé sat quietly in the parlour, her hands folded neatly in her lap. She was dressed in a pale blue gown that accentuated her delicate frame, her dark brown hair pinned back with a single pearl comb.
The room was grand yet stifling, filled with portraits of stern ancestors who seemed to watch over her every move.
She tried to focus on the intricate patterns of the carpet beneath her feet, but the murmur of voices from the adjoining study kept drawing her attention.
Esmé’s step-parents, the Laurents, were in discussion with the imposing figure of Mr. RenéVolkov, Eiser's father.
"Your daughter will be well cared for," Mr. Volkov’s deep, gravelly voice carried through the heavy oak door. "My son needs a wife who understands duty above all else. And the Laurent name is one we are proud to align with."
Esmé's heart sank.
She knew what this meeting meant. Her step-family had fallen on hard times after her stepfather’s failed investments, and this arrangement was their lifeline.
The door creaked open, and her lovely stepmother stepped out, her face was relief and resignation. "Esmé," she said softly, "they’d like to meet you now."
Esmé rose on unsteady legs, smoothing the fabric of her gown as she walked into the study.
Inside, the atmosphere was even more suffocating. Her father sat in one of the leather armchairs, nodding solemnly as Mr. Volkov gestured for her to sit.
Across from her, Eiser sat in another chair, his posture relaxed but his eyes cold and distant.
He wore a tailored black suit, the sharp lines accentuating his stoic demeanour. His dark hair was neatly combed back, and his chiselled jaw tightened as his gaze briefly met hers.
"This is Esmé," her stepfather said, his voice strained but polite. "She’s a fine girl—intelligent, kind, and loyal. She will make an excellent wife."
Eiser’s expression didn’t change. He leaned back in his chair, one hand resting casually on the armrest. "I’m sure she will," he said, his tone indifferent.
Esmé swallowed hard, forcing herself to meet his gaze. "And you?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly. "Do you wish for this arrangement?"
A surprise crossed his face, but it was gone in an instant. "Wishes don’t matter in our world," he replied bluntly. "This is about duty, not desire."
