Chapter 11: The Unseen Threads
The next morning, Aria stood before the grand mirror in her room, staring at her reflection. The silk robe that clung to her body felt foreign, like she was playing a part in someone else's life.
Elias's words from the night before echoed in her mind, his cold demeanor searing through her like the harshest winter wind. You'll have everything you need, except for me.
Was this really her life now? Was this the woman she was destined to become—the one whose existence was bound by nothing more than duty and obligation?
The soft knock on her door broke her thoughts. "Madam Xian, breakfast is served," came the maid's voice.
It was a simple routine—another day filled with endless luxury but no warmth. She nodded silently, turning away from the mirror.
As she entered the dining room, Elias was already there, seated at the head of the table. He didn't look up when she entered, his attention fully absorbed in his phone. For a brief moment, she wondered if he even noticed when she was near.
"Morning," she said softly, almost unsure of herself.
He glanced up, his eyes briefly meeting hers before returning to his phone. "Sit."
Aria complied, the silence between them feeling suffocating. She wasn't sure if it was the weight of the contract or something else that kept them at such a distance.
The maid placed a plate in front of her—fresh fruit, eggs, toast—but Aria's stomach twisted at the sight. How could she even pretend this was normal when everything about this marriage felt like a lie?
She picked at her food, barely tasting it. Elias was focused on his phone, but she could feel his presence in the room, as imposing and distant as ever.
"You'll be attending a few events in the next few days," he said, breaking the silence without looking up. "Nothing too demanding. Just appearances."
Aria's chest tightened. She had become nothing more than a figurehead in this cold charade.
"Of course," she replied, her voice distant even to her own ears. "Anything else?"
He paused for a moment, as if weighing his words. Finally, he placed the phone down. His gaze was cool, but there was something behind his eyes—something unreadable.
"I don't expect anything from you," he said flatly. "This is business, nothing more."
Aria nodded, her throat tight. "I understand."
There was nothing left to say.
Elias picked up his coffee, his hand steady, his posture perfect, like he was the embodiment of control. Aria couldn't help but wonder if he had ever let down his guard for anyone—if there was even a crack in the cold facade he wore so effortlessly.
But then, she quickly dismissed the thought. She was a part of his life now, but not in the way that mattered. She wasn't his equal, and she was certainly not someone who could break through his walls.
The silence lingered between them, almost like a tangible thing, thickening the air. Aria swallowed hard and looked down at her plate, trying to steady her nerves. It was easier to focus on something as simple as the food than on the chasm between them that seemed impossible to bridge.
When she finally finished, she stood up, pushing her chair back with a soft scrape. "Is there anything else I should prepare for today?"
Elias didn't look up. His eyes remained locked on his phone, fingers tapping away at something only he knew. "Nothing. Just... stay out of the way."
Aria froze, the sting of his words cutting deeper than she wanted to admit. But she simply nodded. "Of course."
She turned to leave, the weight of the house pressing on her once again. It was beautiful, yes. But it felt like a prison. Her steps echoed through the hallway, and the emptiness of the mansion was deafening.
As she reached the staircase, her phone buzzed in her pocket. It was a message from her mother:
Remember, Aria, appearances are everything. Don't disappoint us.
A bitter laugh bubbled up in Aria's throat, but she choked it back. Her parents—always reminding her of her duty, her obligations, the price of the marriage she had entered into without a choice.
Her gaze fell to the message. She didn't even bother to reply. What was the point? Her life was already determined for her, and no amount of effort or defiance could change that.