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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
HER GHOST IN THE HALLWAY
“The worst thing in the world is to try to sleep and not to.” — F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
The soft light of the moon seeped through the edges of the heavy curtains in Esmé’s room.
She leaned her back against the door, the weight of her emotions pressing down on her. Her breath hitched as she fought to hold back the tears, but they came anyway.
She raised her arm to cover her eyes, muffling her sobs into the silence of the room.
Esmé slid down to the floor, her knees drawn close to her chest, as her quiet weeping echoed in the stillness. She felt so small, so invisible in the vastness of the mansion.
The walls she had once thought might protect her now felt like they were closing in, suffocating her in their cold indifference.
As her tears subsided, an icy realization crept into her mind. This is not where I belong. I’m nothing more than a ghost in this house, and he... he doesn’t want to see me. Why should I stay where I’m not wanted?
Her gaze flickered to the wardrobe across the room. She pushed herself to her feet, her legs trembling slightly as she walked over to it.
Pulling it open, she reached for a small leather bag tucked away in the corner. Her fingers brushed against the soft fabric of her dresses as she carefully selected a few, folding them with care and placing them inside the bag.
She packed only what was essential—enough to get her far away, somewhere quiet, somewhere she wouldn’t feel this hollow ache anymore.
A scarf, a coat, a pair of shoes. Her movements were slow but deliberate.
Standing by the bed, she looked at the bag, her hands trembling slightly as she pulled the drawstrings shut.
Her reflection in the mirror caught her attention—her red-rimmed eyes, her pale face—and for a moment, she hesitated. Will he even notice if I’m gone?
But the thought stung too deeply. She shook her head and whispered to herself, “It’s better this way. Better for both of us.”
Slipping on her coat, Esmé grabbed her bag. Her steps were light as she opened the door, careful not to let it creak.
Each step felt heavier than the last, her mind racing with doubt. What if he finds out? Will he even care? She swallowed the lump rising in her throat, forcing herself to focus on the freedom waiting beyond the mansion’s gates.
The grand foyer loomed before her. Esmé hesitated for a moment, her gaze drifting toward the closed doors of Eiser’s office.
No, she told herself firmly, turning her head away. This is for the best. I can’t keep waiting for something that may never come.
She reached the main door, her hand pausing on the brass handle.
With a deep breath, she pushed the door open just enough to slip outside, the chilly night air biting at her skin.
She didn’t look back.
Not at the towering mansion behind her, nor at the life she was leaving within its walls.
For the first time in what felt like forever, she was walking toward the unknown—not out of fear, but out of hope.
•••
The morning light seeped through the grand windows of the mansion, illuminating the dining table that remained untouched.
The usual sound of soft clinks of cutlery or the faint shuffle of footsteps was absent, replaced by an eerie stillness.
Eiser hadn’t come downstairs for breakfast—not that anyone expected him to.
His routine had grown more erratic, and his absence from the communal spaces of the house had become almost expected.
Inside his office, the air was stale, heavy with the faint scent of ink and paper.
Eiser sat at his desk, his mind was elsewhere, restless and unsettled.
Something felt different, though he couldn’t put his finger on it. He dismissed the thought with a shake of his head, focusing instead on the numbers and documents scattered before him.
But even as the days blurred into nights, a strange disquiet gnawed at him.
Each time he came home late from his affairs, his footsteps echoed through the empty halls. He would glance up at the bannister, half-expecting to see Esmé perched there, as she often was, her gaze questioning but never prying.
Yet the space remained vacant, the stillness almost mocking him.
He ignored the unease, brushing it off as fatigue or distraction.
Without a word to the staff, he would retreat to his bedroom or office, closing the door behind him as if to shut out the nagging emptiness.
Occasionally, as he crossed the hallway, his gaze would flicker toward the closed door of the guestroom.
The door had remained shut for days. His steps would slow for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly before he forced himself to look away.
She’s probably resting, he told himself the first night.
She’ll come down tomorrow, he thought the next.
But three days had passed, and the door hadn’t opened.
No soft footsteps echoed in the hallways, no quiet humming reached his ears, and no lingering warmth of her presence greeted him.
And yet, he did nothing.
He didn’t knock, didn’t ask the staff, didn’t let himself dwell on the uneasy silence that had taken her place.
Instead, he buried himself in his work, each day growing colder, more distant, as if ignoring the void could somehow fill it.
But deep down, in the quiet corners of his mind, something lingered—a faint, persistent whisper he refused to acknowledge.
Something was missing.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
