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 a wall of sile...
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TWO WORLDS
“It is not how much you say, but how much you leave unsaid.” —Anonymous
Eiser locked the door behind him, the heavy click echoing in the quiet of the master bedroom.
The dim light from the bedside lamp cast long shadows as he moved toward the mirror.
His white shirt was stained with dried blood, and his face bore the fresh marks of a fight—dark bruises along his jawline and a cut above his brow.
With a sharp intake of breath, he peeled the shirt off, wincing as the fabric stuck to an open wound on his side. He tossed it aside, the metallic scent of blood filling the room.
Opening a drawer, he retrieved a first-aid kit, setting it on the table with a thud.
Eiser sat on the edge of the bed, pulling out antiseptic wipes and gauze. He pressed the antiseptic against the cut on his side, his jaw clenching as the sting shot through him.
A low hiss escaped his lips, but he didn’t stop.
Methodically, he cleaned the wounds, the harshness in his movements betraying his frustration.
In the quiet of the guestroom, Esmé lay motionless on her bed, her hands clasped over her stomach as she stared at the ceiling.
Her chest felt heavy, weighed down by the silence that stretched between her and the man she barely knew yet couldn’t stop thinking about.
She replayed the moment in the hallway—his bruised face, the blood on his shirt, and the way he had locked her out. "Why does he shut me out so completely?" she whispered to herself.
Esmé turned her head to the side, her gaze settling on the faint glow of the moonlight streaming through the window.
Her thoughts churned like a storm. She felt helpless as if she were reaching for something that slipped further away every time she stretched out her hand.
In his room, Eiser sat with his head in his hands, the gauze loosely wrapped around his side.
For a moment, he allowed himself to breathe, his shoulders rising and falling as he closed his eyes.
But even as his body ached, his thoughts drifted to the woman just a hallway away—the woman who had offered to clean his wounds, her voice trembling with concern.
Esmé sighed and closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep. "If only he’d let me in…" she thought.
Unspoken words and silent wounds lingered in the vast space of the mansion, leaving them both with nothing but their thoughts.
•••
The dining room was quiet, save for the faint clink of silverware against porcelain.
