He didn't sleep in the room again.
The bed beside me remained cold and untouched reminding me that he didn't belong to me-not even in the smallest of ways. I caught hints of him here and there-the faint scent of his cologne on the sheets, the echo of his footsteps in the hallway-but it was never enough. Not enough to fill the void he left behind.
The burns hurt. Gnawing sting that flared whenever I shifted.
But it wasn't the pain in my legs that kept me awake.
It was the ceiling.
Why didn't he stay?
The thought twisted inside me venomously. Was it disgust? Pity? Or was I simply too broken to be worth his time anymore? My chest tightened at the thought and my breaths became shallower and uneven.
Morning came in shards of light that cut through the curtains, and the sting of the burns worsened as I tried to sit up. I winced and bit back a groan. Still, I managed to swing my legs over the edge of the bed, my bare feet brushing against the cold floor.
A knock startled me. Soft, hesitant. I wasn't expecting anyone.
Was it him? No. he wasn't polite enough to knock.
I held my heart in my mouth as the door creaked open, and a maid stepped in-one I'd seen in the mansion a handful of times. She was quiet, almost timid, as though she didn't belong in the space any more than I did. She didn't speak at first, just moved to my side and helped me get to my feet. Her hands were steady, her touch light, but her silence was deafening.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
She didn't answer, just guided me down the hallway, down the grand staircase, and into the dining room. Breakfast was already laid out and I raised my brows. But Judas wasn't there.
The chair at the head of the table remained empty, and the air felt heavier because of it. I glanced at the maid as my stomach knotted with unease.
The kitchen looked cleaner, and to my surprise, it didn't look like a disaster.
The woman served some warm pancakes, very American, and a glass of hot chocolate. I swallowed hard.
"Where is he?"
Her hands fidgeted with the hem of her apron as she gave me an uneasy look. "Mr. Romanovski is in the office,"
I sighed. Putting the forkful of the pancake into my mouth and swallowed it without chewing.
I was not hungry, but she helped me get down here. Refusing would be impolite.
I hated the way my chest constricted at the thought. Of course, he was in the office. It wasn't unusual. But today, it felt different. Today, it felt like he was avoiding me. Not today, but from the past week.
Was he disgusted?
The question clawed its way to the forefront of my mind with such cruelty I placed the fork down and stared at the steam.
I pushed my plate away. My legs ached, my skin burned, but it felt like it was my heart that was set on fire.
What had I done to deserve this? This life? Was this even life?
"Should I let him know you're asking for him, Miss?" The woman asked softly.
My eyes blurred and I shook my head before picking up the fork again. "No," my voice was cold even to my own ears. "It doesn't matter."
But it did. It mattered more than I wanted to admit. And the realization twisted the knife deeper.
I managed another bite of the pancake, though it felt like chewing ash. The sweetness clung to my tongue with sickening heaviness. I swallowed hard trying to chase it with a sip of the hot chocolate. Warmth spread through my chest, but it didn't reach the cold in my heart. Nothing did.
The maid cleared the plate without a word as if she might break the silence too harshly and shatter me completely. I wanted to tell her it didn't matter. I was already broken. She didn't need to tread so carefully.
When she left to give warm tea to the guards outside, the silence consumed me again. It wrapped itself around me like a heavy fog. I sat there for a long time, staring at the faint ripples in the chocolate, now lukewarm, as my mind spiralled deeper into the gorge.
He wasn't avoiding me just today. He'd been avoiding me since that night. Since I'd dared to speak the truth-my truth. I'd told him how I felt, laid myself bare, and he'd turned away. Was it the burns? The scars? Or was it just… me?
I let out a bitter laugh that scraped against my throat. Of course, it was me. It was always me. The common denominator in every failure, every rejection, every ounce of pain that seeped into my life.
Would it even matter if I disappeared?
I closed my eyes letting the words grow roots in the cracks of my soul. What was I to him? A distraction? A nuisance? A broken toy he no longer cared to fix?
The knife on the table gleamed under the morning light. Small, and unassuming, but it caught my eye nonetheless. My hands twitched and the involuntary reaction made my breath hitch.
I imagined the blade pressing against my skin, the sharp sting that would follow, and then… release. An end to the chaos, the emptiness, the endless cycle of hoping for something I could never have.
But then his face flashed in my mind. His cold face. His stormy eyes burned with anger, and madness, something I could never quite decipher. Would he care? Would he even notice if I was gone?
The thought made me clench my fists. I hated how much power he had over me, how much his indifference hollowed me out. How much I wanted him to look at me-not with pity, not with disgust, but with something real. Like I was a human.
No.
I stood abruptly and the movement sent a jolt of pain through my legs. The burns throbbed but I welcomed the pain. It chained me to the present, even as my mind screamed for escape.
When the woman reappeared again, I avoided her eyes. "Miss, are you-"
"What's your name?" I asked pushing the chair away and putting the unfinished plate on the counter. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she looked strangely at me. Did she pity me? Did she think I was not fixable?
I laughed at the thought and she gave me a weird look. I smiled apologetically. "My apologies. I just… tend to laugh… when I'm…"
"Danyellei," she muttered fixing her apron and wiping the counter. "I work for Mr Romanovski… ever since he's… met the accident."
I stared at her. I had never seen her before on this island. And if she had been working for him for a long time, it only meant one thing. She was one of the trusted employees.
"Accident?" I frowned. I did recall reading something about the accident but never paid any mind. I thought it must be a lie made by him.
Her eyes widened, and she shook her head quickly as if she told me something she was not supposed to. "No, Miss. I-"
"I know he's not blind," I interrupted, stepping closer and taking the cloth from her hand. "Do you really think I didn't know that…" My throat tightened, and I swallowed hard. "he was lying."
She flinched and her hands twisted nervously in front of her. "Mr Romanovski had his reasons."
"What reasons?" She swallowed hard.
"My apologies, but I can't tell. It's not my place." Then she turned around and walked away leaving me as confused as ever.