PaintingWalls,UnspokenWords
The next morning greeted the Reeve estate with soft light and dew-covered hedges. Elara woke earlier than usual, her mind already replaying Lily's promise from the night before - "you're mine all morning." True to her word, the girl had knocked on her door at exactly eight.
"You're late," Lily teased with her usual grin.
"I'm right on time," Elara countered, slipping into sneakers.
They had breakfast in the glasshouse - Lily, Elara, and Asher. Killian had left a note with a maid saying he'd gone for a morning run. Elara didn't ask more than that. She wasn't sure if she wanted to know.
Outside, the east garden wall stood untouched,aged with patches of moss and climbing ivy. Paint cans were lined along the stone path. Brushes. Buckets. Black canvas.
"Colors?" Elara asked,tying her hair up.
Lily handed her a palette of muted tones. "Warm blush, sage green, soft gray, and a pale yellow. I want something peaceful."
"Let's make it ours then."
Asher took his place on the far end of the wall, working with the kind of quiet focus Elara had come to expect from him. Lily, chatty as ever, painted vines and stars, humming some upbeat tune from her phone. Elara chose the center and painted a sky of overlapping strokes - not quite morning, not quite dusk. It reminded her of standing between phases of her life.
"I've never seen Killian care about anyone like this," Lily said suddenly.
Elara's brush paused. "Care?"
Lily shrugged. "I know my brother. He's cold, like Dad. But he watches you - when you're not looking. Listens even when you don't speak."
"I think you're imagining things."
"I think I'm not."
Elara smiled faintly, but her heart skipped. Maybe it was wishful thinking.
Maybe it didn't matter. After all, everything between them was written in ink - contractual, not emotional.
By mid-morning, Killian returned, his shirt clinging slightly from the run, hair damp. He walked toward them slowly, casting a long glance at the wall. His eyes lingered on Elara's section - that uncertain sky.
"You paint," he observed.
"Only when bribed by your sister."
He smirked but said nothing. Then, quietly, he picked up a brush and started adding soft outlines of wings into the sky she'd painted. Their strokes didn't touch - just mirrored and nested between each other.
The silence between them held weight but not distance.
Hours passed. The wall transformed into something resembling healing- nature, sky, laughter,thought.
Later, they cleaned up together. Asher offered to put everything back in the storage shed, giving Elara a moment alone on the patio bench with Killian.
"Lily will want to take credit for everything," she said.
"She deserves it," Killian replied, watching the newly painted wall.
Elara leaned back, the warmth of the stone soaking into her skin. "You didn't have to join."
"I know."
"But you did."
A pause. Then he glanced at her. "I didn't expect you to adapt this easily. To them."
"I grew up wishing for family dinners. Siblings. Noise. Even disapproval meant I existed to someone."
Killian's gaze softened slightly. "And now?"
"Now...I exist on paper," she said with a half-smile. "In conditions. In terms."
His expression darkened, but he didn't argue. She didn't need him to.
Instead, they sat in companionable quiet. Two people tangled in circumstances, aware of what was true but unsure what to do with it.
That night, after dinner, Elara found herself back outside, drawn to the garden wall under the low silver moonlight. It looked different in the dark -muted, still, like a secret they had painted together.
She stood alone until she heard footsteps.
"You couldn't sleep either?" Killian's voice was quiet behind her.
She turned, arms folded loosely. "Too quiet."
He came to stand beside her, just far enough not to touch. "You miss noise?"
"I miss certainty," she replied, gaze fixed on the wall. "But maybe I never had it to begin with."
He didn't speak for a long moment. Then he said,"We leave tomorrow. Back to the office,to pretending."
Elara nodded.
There was a subtle shift in the air. He didn't try to comfort her, didn't offer warmth he couldn't promise. But he stayed. And sometimes, staying was enough.
They lingered in silence, watching shadows slide over the painted wings, not quite touching - just mirrored.