The sound of the front door opening echoed through the house.
Lina froze.
She had been sitting in the living room, pretending to read a book she hadn't turned a single page of for the past ten minutes. The quiet mansion had become familiar over the last two days-too familiar. So when the silence finally broke, her heart jumped violently in her chest.
He was home.
She slowly stood up, her fingers tightening around the edge of the book. Her mind raced.
Breathe. Calm down. You are Amara Kingsley. You are his wife.
Footsteps approached, steady and unhurried.
Then Dominic Hale appeared.
He looked tired.
His suit jacket was draped over his arm, his tie loosened, the sharp lines of his face softened by exhaustion. But even like that, he carried an aura of authority that filled the room effortlessly.
His eyes lifted-and landed on her.
For a brief second, something unreadable flashed across his face.
Then he smiled.
"You're still awake," he said.
Lina swallowed. "I wasn't sleepy."
He nodded, setting his jacket aside. "I didn't expect to find you waiting."
"I wasn't really waiting," she lied quickly. "I was just... here."
Dominic studied her for a moment, as if sensing the tension beneath her words. Then he stepped closer, keeping a careful distance.
"I'm sorry I wasn't around much," he said calmly. "Work couldn't wait."
"It's okay," Lina replied softly. "I understand."
And she did. At least partially.
Men like Dominic Hale didn't slow down just because they got married. Their lives didn't pause. Their worlds kept spinning.
"Did the staff take care of you?" he asked.
"Yes. Mrs. Grant was very helpful."
He nodded in approval. "Good."
An awkward silence fell between them.
Lina suddenly became very aware of how empty the space felt-how strange it was to stand in front of a man who was technically her husband, yet still a stranger.
Dominic broke the silence.
"Walk with me," he said.
She hesitated for half a second, then nodded.
They walked side by side through the long hallway. Lina matched his pace, careful not to lag behind or walk ahead. She noticed small details-the faint scent of his cologne, the quiet confidence in his steps, the way servants straightened when they saw him.
They stopped at the large balcony overlooking the city.
Dominic leaned against the railing and exhaled slowly. "I missed the quiet," he said.
"You travel a lot?" Lina asked.
"Too much." He glanced at her. "That's why this place matters. It's the only space that belongs to me."
She nodded. "It's beautiful."
"Yes," he said, "but it's also lonely."
The word surprised her.
She looked at him, really looked at him.
For the first time, Dominic Hale didn't look like a billionaire or a powerful CEO.
He looked like a man who carried too much responsibility on his shoulders.
"I didn't expect marriage to change that," he continued, his voice low. "But I hoped it would."
Lina's chest tightened.
"I don't want to rush you," he said. "I know this wasn't your choice."
Her breath caught.
"You... know?"
Dominic's gaze softened. "Anyone with eyes could see it. The wedding. Your silence. The way you looked like you were saying goodbye to something."
She couldn't speak.
"So," he continued, "we'll do this slowly. At your pace."
She nodded, afraid that if she spoke, her voice would betray her.
"Thank you," she whispered.
He turned toward her. "Come. You should rest."
---
The bedroom felt different with him in it.
Smaller.
Warmer.
More dangerous.
Lina stood near the window while Dominic removed his watch and placed it neatly on the table. The silence between them wasn't uncomfortable-but it was heavy.
"I'll sleep on the couch," Dominic said suddenly.
Her eyes widened. "You don't have to-"
"I want to," he said gently. "Not until you're comfortable."
She hesitated, then nodded. "Alright."
He moved toward the door, then paused. "Good night, Amara."
"Good night... Dominic."
The door closed softly behind him.
Lina sat on the bed, her heart racing.
He's too kind, she thought. Too patient.
And that made everything worse.
---
Days passed.
Dominic settled into a routine. Early mornings. Late evenings. Quiet dinners together when he was home. Conversations that stayed polite, safe, and distant.
But Lina noticed things.
He remembered how she liked her tea.
He noticed when she skipped meals.
He listened.
One evening, as they ate dinner together, Dominic spoke again.
"You don't laugh much," he said casually.
Lina looked up. "Do I have to?"
"No," he replied. "I just wondered why."
She hesitated. "Maybe I forgot how."
He smiled faintly. "Then we'll have to remind you."
Her heart skipped.
That night, Lina stood alone in the bathroom, staring at her reflection.
She touched her face-the face that wasn't hers.
"How long can this last?" she whispered.
