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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PROMISES
“The price of greatness is responsibility.” — Winston Churchill
Eiser set the empty teacup down on the small wooden table, letting out a soft breath as he stood up.
His movements were deliberate as he slipped into his long black coat, adjusting the lapels with practiced precision.
The room felt heavier now, though the fireplace crackled warmly in the background.
Esmé watched from near the entrance, her arms loosely crossed as her gaze flickered between him and the door.
She stepped forward silently, grasping the handle to open it for him.
The cold winter air seeped into the cottage, brushing against her skin as she held the door wide, waiting for him to leave.
Eiser paused mid-step, his brows knitting together. Turning slightly, he looked at her with irritation and something gentler—perhaps regret.
"Don't do that," he said quietly, his voice firm but not harsh.
Esmé blinked, taken aback. "Do what?"
"Opening the door for me." His said. "I’m capable of doing it myself."
She tilted her head, confused by the sentiment. "It’s just a door, Eiser."
"It’s not just a door," he said, his voice lower now, though his dark eyes held hers. "It’s respect. And maybe I haven’t shown you enough of it, but it doesn’t mean I want you treating me as if I’m unworthy of it."
His words lingered in the chilly air between them, creating a tension neither seemed ready to break.
They stood there awkwardly, the silence stretching longer than either had intended.
Esmé shifted, her gaze drifting to the snow-covered path outside before returning to him. There was something raw in his expression, something she hadn’t seen in months.
Eiser cleared his throat, straightening his posture. "I’ll be back," he said finally, his tone softer but still firm.
Esmé nodded, her fingers gripping the door handle. "You always say that," she murmured under her breath, though she wasn’t sure he heard it.
Eiser paused mid-step, her quiet words cutting through the cold air like a distant echo.
His gloved hand tightened briefly at his side, and then he turned back to her, his eyes settling on her face.
For a moment, he said nothing, his expression unreadable—longing and frustrating.
His gaze softened as it lingered on her, as though he were trying to memorize her features.
