Chapter 65 Chapter 65: The Way He Looked at Me Instead of Her

Chapter 65 Chapter 65: The Way He Looked at Me Instead of Her

I wiped my cheeks again before opening the bedroom door, pressing my palms against my face until the warmth faded and the redness dulled into something easier to hide. My chest still rose too quickly, breath catching in shallow bursts that refused to steady. I forced myself to inhale slowly, counting the seconds the way Madame Hester had once taught me when panic threatened to show on my face. One breath in. One breath out. By the time I lowered my hands, the storm inside me was quieter—but not gone. It would never be gone now. I straightened my posture, smoothed the front of my uniform, and stepped into the hallway like nothing in the world had changed.

The corridor felt impossibly long tonight. The chandelier light pooled softly across the marble floor, turning the polished surface into a pale mirror that reflected every step I took. And at the end of that reflection, exactly where I knew he would be, Auren waited. He stood beside the wall with a stillness that felt deliberate, one shoulder resting casually against the paneling as though he had been there for hours instead of minutes. The moment the door clicked shut behind me, his eyes lifted. They were calm. Too calm. Watching me the way a hunter watches the forest after hearing movement in the trees.

“Well?” he asked.

The single word carried down the hallway like a quiet test.

My throat tightened, but I forced the answer out before hesitation betrayed me. “He left.”

Silence stretched between us, long and heavy. Auren pushed himself away from the wall slowly, his gaze never leaving my face as he stepped closer. I felt the distance shrinking like a tightening noose. His eyes moved carefully over my features, lingering on my lashes, the corners of my mouth, the faint dampness I hadn’t completely managed to hide. He was checking for weakness. For regret. For lies. When he finally nodded, the movement was small but deliberate.

“Good,” he said.

The word settled deep in my chest, bringing relief and dread in equal measure. My fingers curled together in front of me as gratitude slipped out before I could stop it. “Thank you… for not saying anything.”

His expression shifted—just slightly—but the change sent unease rippling through me. “You don’t need to thank me,” he replied quietly. His voice dropped lower, softer, but somehow heavier. “You already paid for my silence.”

The promise. The deal. The chain I had wrapped around myself. My stomach twisted painfully, the memory of his voice on the balcony echoing in my head. I always collect what I’m owed. I opened my mouth, searching for something—anything—to say, but the words never came.

“Auren?”

Elara’s voice drifted down the corridor like a bell cutting through fog.

We both turned at the exact same moment.

At the far end of the hallway, she appeared beneath the chandelier light, walking toward us with hurried steps that echoed softly off the marble floor and the pink diamonds at her throat shimmered faintly with every movement. She looked exhausted, pale from the night’s fear—but relief softened her features in a way that made my chest ache.

Elara reached him before the silence could stretch any further as if the fear of the night had finally snapped and left only relief behind. She didn’t hesitate at all. She rose slightly on her feet and pressed a kiss to Auren’s lips—quick, instinctive, the kind of gesture that belonged to someone who believed she still had something safe waiting for her at the end of danger. Then she folded into him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders with a quiet desperation, holding him as though the act alone could erase everything she had been afraid of earlier.

Auren didn’t respond.

Not even slightly nd his body remained still, almost rigid, as if the embrace had not reached him at all. His face didn’t soften, his hands didn’t rise to return it, and his gaze stayed distant—fixed somewhere past Elara’s shoulder, unfocused, detached. It wasn’t rejection in the obvious sense. It was something worse: absence. A presence that was physically there but emotionally unreachable, like he had stepped out of the moment while still standing inside it.

The contrast between them was unsettling. Elara held him tighter, her fingers pressing into his coat as though anchoring herself after a long fall. Her breath steadied against him, her body relaxing in small waves of relief she didn’t question. She had no reason to. To her, this was safety returning. To her, this was the end of fear. But the stillness in Auren’s frame made the entire scene feel unbalanced, like something beautiful placed over something already cracked.

I felt it the moment I saw them.

Something inside me tightened so sharply it almost stole the air from my lungs. My feet didn’t move at first. I just stood there, frozen  watching a moment I had no place in. The marble floor beneath me suddenly felt colder, harder, as if it had decided I didn’t belong on it anymore. Every instinct told me to turn away, to step back quietly, to vanish into the hallway before I became something that would ruin the illusion in front of me.

So I tried.

I lowered my gaze and shifted my weight, carefully, preparing to slip away without disturbing anything. If I left now, I could disappear into the house unnoticed, dissolve back into the role I was supposed to have. My body turned slowly, controlled, each movement measured so nothing would give me away.

But I didn’t make it far.

A hand closed around my wrist. The grip stopped me completely, cutting through my movement like a lock snapping shut. It wasn’t painful, but it was absolute—there was no question, no room to continue, no space to pretend I was free to leave. Heat spread up my arm from the contact, sharp and immediate, grounding me in place even as my chest tightened with instinctive panic.

I didn’t look up right away. I already knew.

Behind Elara’s embrace, hidden from her view, Auren stood exactly as he had before—still holding her, still unreadable, still giving nothing away. To anyone watching, nothing had changed. A reunion was happening in plain sight. Relief was being shared. A moment of closeness was being witnessed.

But behind that illusion, his fingers were the only thing holding me in place. Elara was still holding Auren when everything shifted slightly. At first it was small—just a subtle movement in him, like he had finally remembered I was there. His head turned just a little, enough that his eyes could find mine past Elara’s shoulder. He didn’t pull away from her, didn’t break the moment she was clinging to him, but his attention slid toward me with quiet focus, cutting through everything else in the hallway and His hand was still around my wrist…Not tight enough to hurt, but firm enough that I couldn’t pretend I was free.

Then Auren gave a small shake of his head.

It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t even fully visible to anyone who wasn’t looking closely. But I saw it clearly. A simple, controlled refusal. No words, no expression, just that quiet movement telling me not to go.

I stopped immediately.

My steps didn’t follow my thoughts anymore. I stayed where I was, frozen in the space between leaving and staying, my wrist still caught in his hold. Elara was still close to him, her face turned into him, completely unaware of what was happening just behind her. The contrast made my chest feel tight, like I was standing in two different worlds at once.

Auren didn’t look away from me.

That was the worst part. Not the grip, not the situation, but the fact that his eyes stayed on mine while everything else was happening around us. He wasn’t asking. He wasn’t explaining. He was just silently telling me: stay. And somehow, without a single word, I did.