Ava spent the rest of the day inside her room. She barely moved, barely blinked. It wasn't because she was resting, rest had become impossible but because she didn't trust what she might see if she stepped outside. The curtains were drawn, letting in only streaks of light that slashed across the floor like claws. Her skin felt too tight. Her head, too full.
She hadn't stepped outside since that morning. Not even to breathe. She still couldn't shake the image from that morning. The way Damien's eyes had gone vacant, the flood of blood on the breakfast table, her scream, his voice calling her back. Even though she had tried to brush it off as her imagination, it felt too real to be one.
But by evening, something shifted. Maybe it was the weight of silence. Maybe it was the suffocating sense that the walls were starting to close in on her and that she needed to breathe. She pulled herself out of bed, grabbed a shawl, and left her room. Her body felt more heavy than it should have. She tied her robe tighter and wandered out of her room, trailing her fingers along the cool banister of the staircase as she descended.
Downstairs, the estate had dimmed. It was too quiet, that oppressive kind of quiet that made you hear your own breath. No music, no footsteps, just the ticking of the old grandfather clock in the hall. Most of the staff had vanished for the day. The air smelled faintly of something old and floral. Jasmine, maybe. She made her way through the halls with slow steps, unsure where she was going until her fingers found the handle to a narrow glass door she hadn't noticed before.
She wasn't sure where she was going until she found herself in front of a narrow glass door she hadn't noticed before. It led to a private conservatory, floor to ceiling windows framed a spectacular view of the rolling hills below. It was all glass walls and hanging lights. A quiet sanctuary built into the side of the house, overlooking the hills and the glittering city beyond. The view was breathtaking, and it hit her like a slap.
There, among the low sofas and soft lights, Damien sat.
She froze.
He hadn't noticed her yet. A bottle of dark liquor rested on the table beside him, half full. His shirt sleeves were rolled up. He looked… tired. Not in the physical sense, but in the way a man grows tired of keeping secrets.
Ava turned to leave, but he looked up. "Stay."
His voice was flat but not cold. More like he was offering a truce.
She hesitated, then walked in, letting the door shut behind her. She took a seat across from him, careful to put the small glass table between them.
Silence stretched between them, but not unkindly.
He poured her a drink without asking what she wanted. She didn't protests.
"I didn't think you'd be home," she said.
"I never left the estate."
"You're not going to ask me where I was," he said after a long moment.
She traced her finger around the rim of the glass. "You're not going to tell me anyway."
"Fair enough."
Another long pause. Outside, the sky deepened into indigo. The city lights blinked like the stars were trying to come back to Earth.
Ava took a sip from her glass. The alcohol burned down her throat, and for a moment, the heat drowned the chill curling up her spine.
He finally turned to face her, and for a moment, she didn't recognize him. The soft lines of his face were hardened by something darker. Not anger and not grief either, it was weight.
"Are you feeling better?" he asked.
Ava hesitated. "I'm fine."
He didn't look convinced.
"I… had a bad morning," she added.
"You screamed," he said, voice low.
She looked down at her hands. "It was just a dream. A stupid, awful dream."
He watched her carefully, his expression unreadable. Then, "Was it about me?"
She lifted her eyes to meet his eyes. "Why would you think that?"
Damien took a slow sip from his glass. "Just a question."
She didn't answer. Instead, she turned her head toward the view. The city lights were blurred through the glass. For a second, her reflection looked unfamiliar.
"I saw you die," she whispered.
His expression didn't change. "Was that why you freaked out?"
"Yes. At the table. You were just sitting here and suddenly you were covered in blood. You called me and I blinked and everything was fine again."
She expected him to dismiss it, maybe call it a stress reaction. But he didn't.
Instead, he leaned forward, studying her with a curious, unreadable intensity. "Do they happen often? The visions?"
Her breath caught. "So… I'm not going crazy."
"Maybe and maybe not."
A chill ran through her. "Then what am I seeing?"
Damien poured himself another drink, not answering.
The glass walls of the room shone in the moonlight. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rolled. A storm was coming.
Ava stared at him, suddenly aware that she had married a man who didn't just have secrets, he was one.