Chapter Eight: her truth
The next morning, Elena didn't come to breakfast.
She knew he was waiting—he always came in around eight, drank his coffee black, and scrolled through emails like the world owed him something.
But this time, she stayed in her room. Got dressed slowly. Took her time brushing her hair.
Let him wait.
If he even cared.
Because he did not,and she was so done pleasing
---
She came out just after nine.
Aiden was still at the table, a half-empty coffee cup in front of him, untouched eggs cooling on a ceramic plate. He didn't look up when she walked in.
She didn't greet him.
Elena walked to the kitchen, poured herself a glass of water, and leaned against the counter. Calm. Collected. Like she was alone.
He finally spoke.
"You're late."
"I wasn't aware I was on a schedule." she replied without looking up from her coffee
His eyes flicked to her. "You usually show up by now."
"I had things to do."
He didn't ask what. And she didn't explain.
Silence stretched between them.
Then he set his fork down. "You heard me last night."
Not a question. A statement.
Elena met his eyes. "Yes." She said softly but strongly. She was done lying,done acting like it didn't matter.
Because it did.
And she mattered most.
He waited. But she didn't elaborate.
And that—that—seemed to unsettle him more than anything else.
---
Later, she left the penthouse without telling him.
No note. No message.
Just her coat, her bag, and the elevator.
---
The city felt different today.Sharper.
She walked with purpose, though she had nowhere to go. She just needed out. Out of that cold apartment. Out of Aiden's reach. Out of her mind.She stopped at the bookstore again. Bought another novel. A journal. A pen.
She sat at a small café nearby, sipped her coffee slowly, and began to write.She hadn't written in weeks. Not since before the wedding. But now the words came easily.
Not about Aiden. Not about the mess she'd been thrown into.Just thoughts. Feelings. Hers.
For the first time in too long, she felt like she belonged to herself again.
---
Back at the penthouse, Aiden was waiting.
He stood in the entryway, jacket off, hands in his pockets.
"You were gone." He said before she even had the chance to step in fully.She walked past him. "Yes."
"No note."
"Nope."She moved to the kitchen,filled up a glass with water before looking at him impatiently
"Elena—"
She turned. "I don't owe you explanations."
"You live under my roof."He argued walking closer
"I didn't ask to."
That hit him harder than she expected.
He stepped forward. "You think I wanted this marriage?"
She didn't back down. "I think you've made it perfectly clear that you didn't."
"Then stop acting surprised when I treat it for what it is."
"And what is it?" she asked, voice low. "A deal? A punishment? A placeholder for someone who didn't want you?"
The air snapped tight.
He moved closer, but not threatening. Just… intense.
"Watch it."
"No," she said. "You watch it. You don't get to insult me behind closed doors and expect me to smile in public."
"I've never asked you to smile."
"Exactly."
She pushed past him and walked toward the hallway.
He didn't follow.But his voice followed her."You're changing."
She stopped.
"Good," she said over her shoulder. "So are you."
---
That night, they didn't speak.
He worked late in the study. She stayed curled on the couch with her book and a blanket, the sound of the city outside.
It was strange—how silence could feel like war.
Every time he passed through the room, she felt it. The shift. The tension.
He didn't look at her.
But he saw her.
And she felt him all the way without looking.
---
The next day, the press got a photo.
Someone had snapped a shot of her leaving the bookstore. Alone. Dressed simply, hair tied back, journal tucked under one arm.
The headline was harmless.
Mrs. Black: Quiet Days in the City.
But it made Aiden furious.
He showed her the tablet, tossed it on the counter.
"You're being watched."
"Seems that way."She looked briefly at the tablet without much concern
"You can't just wander around."He looked her like he couldn't believe what she said
"I didn't wander. I walked."
"You're not anonymous anymore."
She crossed her arms. "I was never anonymous. I was invisible. You made sure of that."
"You're twisting things."
"No," she said. "I'm finally seeing them clearly."
---
He walked out.
And this time—she didn't flinch.
---
She stayed up late that night, curled on the sofa with her journal open and a glass of wine in hand. She wrote until her hand cramped.
Not about him.
About herself.
About the life she left behind. Her favorite coffee shop. The way her sister used to laugh. The sound of the rain on the roof of her old bedroom.
And then… she wrote something she hadn't dared to write before.
I don't know if I want to stay.
But I'm not ready to leave.
Not yet.
And her heart beat twice faster than usual at the truth staring back at her in her handwriting….
---
A soft sound broke the quiet.
She looked up.
Aiden stood by the window, half-shadowed, shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows,his blue eyes very dark and intense as he watched her.
"How long have you been there?" she asked,turning her book face down,hoping he didn't see the words in it.
"A while."
"And?"
"I didn't know you wrote."He said walking further into the room
"You don't know anything about me."
He didn't argue Didn't move.
Just said, "You should be careful what you put on paper."
Her heartbeat raced,and she could clearly hear the sound of it. The sound of her blood rushing.
Had he seen what she wrote?
He couldn't have right??
She met his gaze. "Maybe you should be careful how you treat people."
Another silence.
He didn't respond.
But he didn't walk away, either.
---
And Elena?
She didn't look away.
Not this time.