The silence between them was louder than any scream. “ I asked you a question?” The sharp timbre of his voice sliced through the silence like the crack of a whip, startling Linsy so severely that her foot faltered beneath her. Her ankle gave a slight twist, and she teetered, her center of gravity spiraling out of control. Before she could brace herself for impact, a warm, firm hand circled her waist, steadying her with effortless precision.

Michael Helwart again , too much unlike him, if anything he would let her fall and scold her for falling down.

The heat of his touch radiated through the thin fabric of her blouse like wildfire, searing a trail up her spine. In an instant, the visceral memories of the night before came rushing back, his breath hot against her skin, the overwhelming presence of him pressing her down, the chaos of wanton surrender she hadn't dared imagine would happen, let alone remember.

Her breath hitched. She forced herself to lift her head, her gaze colliding with his.

His eyes, those unfathomably dark pools, were fixed on her, too intent, too sharp. They bore into her with an almost surgical intensity, like scalpels dissecting her soul. Serious. Cold and probing. And worse, questioning. Linsy felt as if he could see right through her, down to the truth she desperately wished to bury. Her heartbeat stuttered, then quickened, drumming erratically in her ears like a trapped bird against a windowpane.

Unable to withstand the pressure of his gaze, she lowered her eyes, lashes trembling like fragile moth wings.

When he had mistaken the woman in the dark as someone else, someone unimportant, his fury had been palpable, volcanic. If he ever found out that it had been her, that she had been the one with him last night, Would her fate be any different?

She clenched her fingers into the folds of her dress, trying to keep her voice steady, neutral. "Why do you ask that?"

Only she knew the truth buried beneath her question. A tiny ember of foolish hope still flickered in her chest, fragile but persistent. If Michael Helwart ever knew it was her, truly her, would he look at her differently? Could this crumbling marriage, stitched together by duty and silence, somehow last a little longer?," Lindy thought. she shook her head, it was not even worthy think about, everything was clear, She should not count her future in his moment of weakness. Embracing the forbidden fruit was a mistake.

But then came his laugh, it startled Linsy.

it was dry and mocking. A blade dressed in velvet.

"You?" His lips curved into a cruel smirk. "You don't have the guts."

The words hung in the air like poisoned arrows. Linsy's shoulders stiffened, her hands frozen mid-air, as if time itself had congealed around her. Shame pooled in her throat, thick and bitter. She averted her eyes again, hiding the dull ache in them.

Of course he hoped it hadn’t been her. How could it be? Their marriage had never been more than a transaction, a ceremonial leash to honor a grandfather’s final wish. They had signed an agreement, cold and clinical, outlining three years of cohabitation and nothing more. Those three years would be over in a matter of days.

And then she would disappear from his life like a temporary scar , yes barely remembered and easily forgotten.

Suddenly, his hand tightened around hers.

The unexpected contact jolted her heart like a defibrillator. She looked up instinctively, only to find his gaze locked on hers again no longer merely probing, but cold and commanding. His eyes, the color of a storm-laden sea, narrowed with icy suspicion.

She tried to pull away, but his grip was unrelenting. Before she could protest, he stepped closer , too close. Her back collided with the cold surface of the floor-length mirror behind her, the contact drawing a startled breath from her lips. Trapped between the biting chill of the glass and the furnace of his presence, she felt like she was drowning in contradictions.

"What… what are you doing?" Her voice betrayed her, trembling despite her efforts to sound composed.

His face hovered just inches from hers, his breath brushing her cheek with a heat that both seared and unsettled.

"Did you really fall asleep in the office last night?" he asked, the edge in his voice sharper than steel.

Her breath caught in her throat. Her spine went cold. He suspected something. The meticulous web of her lies was unraveling thread by thread. His tone wasn’t curious, it was accusatory, dissecting.

Linsy forced herself to meet his gaze. But as she stared into those merciless eyes, ink-dark and impenetrable, her mind involuntarily dragged her back , back to a memory etched into her soul with painful clarity.

Their wedding night.

She had stood by the window then, watching the snowfall like ash from the heavens, believing, naively, that this was the beginning of something real. That even if they weren’t in love, maybe they could learn to be kind.

But when she turned to him, tentative and hopeful, he had pulled away as if her touch had burned him. His face, stiff and unreadable, bore no trace of joy.

“I married you,” he had said, each word a hammer striking her heart, “to fulfill Grandpa’s last wish. Three years, Linsy. After that, we go our separate ways. Until then don’t touch me. Don’t even try to seduce me, keep your filthy little hands to yourself. You know what I’m capable of.”

It wasn’t anger in his voice that night, it was cold detachment. Like someone speaking to an object, not a wife.

Even now, years later, his words echoed in her bones.

He had kept his distance, preserving his body like an untouched shrine. He had wanted to remain pure, for someone else.

" My Sweetheart".

The name itself was like a blade in her chest. The woman he loved. The woman he had wanted to protect. The woman he had promised himself to.

And now last night, if he discovered that it had been Linsy he had given himself to, unintentionally, blindly ,he would never forgive her, he might even harm her.

She lowered her gaze, unable to bear the weight of the truth.

"Huh, Yeah." Her voice was barely more than a whisper, a resigned sigh swallowed by the vast silence between them. He was hurting her and of course he didn't care. Linsy forced herself to ignore the pain and wait. It was just a matter of time, as long as she doesn't bleed she will survive.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Time seemed to stall. The reflection in the mirror behind her bore witness to two strangers bound by obligation, suspended in the ruins of an unspoken storm.

Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. She could still feel the imprint of his fingers on her wrist, the tension between them taut as a violin string ready to snap.

Perhaps it was time.

Perhaps it had always been inevitable.

They should get divorced.

The words hadn’t been said aloud , not yet but they hung between them like a specter, waiting.

Waiting for one of them to finally let go.