Episode 2

The Blackwood estate was grand and breathtaking, but in the middle of all that beauty, Myra felt painfully alone.

The bedroom she now called hers looked like something out of a luxury magazine—polished furniture, velvet drapes, soft lighting. But none of it could distract her from the quiet. It was her wedding night, and she was completely alone.

The clock ticked steadily on the nightstand, each second echoing in the stillness. Myra sat on the edge of the bed, her white gown spread out beneath her like a cloud. Everything from earlier—the vows, the applause, the polite conversations—felt like a blur.

She had expected… something. A conversation, a quiet moment, anything with Damien. But instead, he had left shortly after the reception.

“There’s a meeting I can’t miss,” he said, “It’s a critical deal. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

His voice wasn’t unkind. Just flat. Like it was all business.

Now, left in silence, Myra wandered the room. She wasn’t new to luxury—she’d grown up with it—but this felt different. Emptier. She tried to read a book, but her mind wouldn’t focus. The soft cream walls and golden accents didn’t comfort her. They only made her feel more out of place.

Outside the window, moonlight spilled across the garden. It was beautiful, peaceful even—but it didn’t settle her nerves. Instead, it made her think. About Damien. About what kind of marriage this would be. Would it always feel like this? Two strangers living under one perfect roof?

After a while, she walked into the bathroom. The marble countertops shimmered under soft light as she washed off her makeup. The warm shower helped her relax a little, and her familiar skincare routine brought a sense of normalcy. She blow-dried her hair, brushing it until it felt like herself again.

Next, she wandered into the walk-in wardrobe—and stopped.

Rows of clothes hung neatly in place. Elegant dresses, stylish casual pieces, even expensive silk nightwear. Everything looked her size. Everything looked like her style.

Her fingers ran over a soft blue blouse, then a delicate cream dress. She hadn’t picked these herself. Damien—or someone—must have made sure it was ready before she moved in. She hadn’t expected that.

Despite how distant he’d been all day, this felt personal. Quietly thoughtful.

She changed into a silk nightgown—pale pink, soft, and cool against her skin. As she stepped back into the room, she glanced at the clock again. Almost midnight.

Feeling slightly more settled, she walked to the small sitting area by the window. A tray had been left there—grapes, cheese, crackers. She picked up a few pieces, nibbling slowly as she stared out at the garden.

The world looked calm from up here. But inside, her thoughts swirled.

Eventually, she returned to bed, pulled the sheets over herself, and sank into the pillow. The bed was too big. Too cold. Still, the exhaustion of the day crept in, and not long after, she drifted into sleep.

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