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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THE DISTANCE BETWEEN THEM
“You can’t undo the past, but you can certainly not repeat it.” — Bruce Willis
Eiser stepped through the doorway of the small, snow-dusted cottage, his tall frame momentarily blocking the pale winter light.
The soft creak of the wooden floor beneath his boots seemed to echo in the stillness, blending with the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth.
Esmé followed behind him, her steps lighter, almost hesitant, as if unsure how to bridge the growing tension between them.
She closed the door gently, and for a brief moment, they stood there.
Eiser’s eyes swept over the modest interior. It was simple but tidy, with a small table by the window, a woven rug near the hearth, and a few personal touches—a crocheted throw draped over a chair, a half-finished piece of knitting resting on the armrest.
His gaze paused on the shelf above the fireplace, where a small jar of preserved berries sat next to a single sprig of dried lavender.
The room was unassuming, yet it felt lived in, warm in a way the mansion never had been.
“It’s... cosy,” he remarked, his voice low, almost uncertain.
Esmé glanced at him, surprised by the comment, but she simply nodded. “It’s enough for now,” she replied, moving toward the hearth.
She busied herself adding another log to the fire, her movements deliberate, as though the task gave her an excuse to avoid looking at him directly.
Eiser removed his coat, shaking off a few stray snowflakes before draping it over the back of a chair.
He stood there, tall and imposing, yet somehow out of place in the small space.
“Have a seat,” she offered her voice softer now.
She gestured toward the small table near the window, where the faintest traces of frost clung to the glass panes.
Eiser hesitated for a moment before sitting down, his movements measured.
He leaned back in the chair, the old wood creaking slightly under his weight.
His eyes followed her as she moved around the room, pulling down a teapot from a high shelf and setting it on the small stove to heat.
“You’ve made yourself at home here,” he observed, his tone neutral.
“I had to,” Esmé replied simply, her back still turned to him as she prepared the tea. “It’s not like I had another choice.”
The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning.
Eiser’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing, his gaze fixed on her as she worked.
