The silence between us

The bedroom was too quiet.

Maelin sat on the edge of the grand bed, her diamond-studded gown spread around her like moonlight frozen in motion. The walls were high, painted with deep twilight colors, and the chandelier above gave off a warm, golden glow. Everything around her shimmered with elegance, opulence, and history.

And yet… she felt like a stranger here.

Her fingers brushed the embroidered edge of the blanket beneath her. “So this is it,” she murmured to herself. “My new kingdom.”

She scoffed.

It felt less like a crown and more like a chain tonight.

She adjusted her posture, letting her legs dangle over the edge of the bed. The heels were off. The veil too. Her hair, still curled from hours of preparation, framed her tired but composed face.

She was Maelin Elora — fierce, independent, and never the one to back down from anything. But tonight... tonight her heart was not silent. There was a storm underneath all the diamonds.

“I’m ready to face it,” she had whispered behind the ceremonial doors just hours ago. But her heart had whispered back, Are you?

Now, sitting alone in this grand, unfamiliar bedroom, she wasn’t so sure.

The door clicked open.

Her heart jolted—almost annoyingly.

She straightened her back instinctively, her fingers tightening over the fabric of her gown. And then, she saw him.

Elric Thorne.

Her husband.

He stepped inside in silence, wearing a dark robe, his presence composed yet impossible to ignore. His black hair was a little tousled, as if he’d run his hand through it out of habit. His eyes met hers, but he said nothing—just closed the door gently behind him.

They stared at each other for a long second. It wasn’t tension exactly. It was… something deeper. Like standing at the edge of a frozen lake, knowing there’s a world beneath the surface—but unsure how deep it goes.

Maelin let out a breath. “Are you always this quiet, or is it just because it’s me?”

His gaze didn’t shift. He pointed subtly to his throat, then made a small hand motion.

She blinked, then nodded slowly. “You don’t talk much,” she translated aloud. “Good. Words are overrated anyway.”

He didn’t smile, but there was something — a glint, a softness in his eyes that almost made her feel like he heard what she didn’t say.

She tilted her head slightly. “I was expecting you to come in and act like a prince. You know, claim your bride and all that nonsense.”

Still no words.

Still no movement toward her.

He simply walked to the side of the room, picked up a folded blanket from a velvet chair, and carried it toward the long leather sofa in front of the fireplace.

Wait.

Maelin sat up straighter. “You’re… sleeping there?”

He didn’t look at her. Just laid the blanket down with quiet grace.

“You're not going to make any claims, any demands? Not even pretend to be a husband tonight?” she asked, her voice quieter than before.

Elric turned to her, paused, then shook his head once.

No.

Just no.

Maelin blinked, stunned by the simplicity of it.

He wasn’t going to make a show. He wasn’t going to assert anything. He was simply giving her the space to breathe.

Her eyes lingered on him longer than she meant to. This man—he was quiet, yes. But his silence didn’t feel empty. It felt… heavy, as if it carried things he never said.

His every movement had meaning. His stillness was eloquent.

He made her curious. And that annoyed her.

“This isn’t what I expected,” she murmured.

Elric looked over. She could feel his eyes on her—not watching her like an object, but observing her like a puzzle he wasn’t trying to solve too quickly.

She stood up then, walking slowly across the soft carpet until she was just a few feet from him. The fireplace lit his features in gold and amber, casting half of his face in gentle shadow.

“I don’t trust easily,” she said, folding her arms. “Not politicians. Not powerful families. And definitely not silent strangers who marry women through backdoor deals.”

He didn’t flinch.

He didn’t defend himself.

He just… nodded.

She didn’t know what to do with that. No explanations. No promises. Just an honest acknowledgment.

That threw her off balance more than any arrogant words could have.

“I need time,” she whispered, unsure if she meant it as a warning or a request.

Another nod.

Then, something strange happened.

Elric walked a step closer and extended his hand—not toward her, but toward her hair. Slowly, with a gentleness that almost startled her, he tucked a loose strand behind her ear. His fingertips brushed her skin for barely a second, but the touch left a trail of warmth behind.

Her breath caught.

It was nothing.

And yet… everything.

Without a word, he stepped back and returned to the sofa.

Maelin stood there for a long time, her heartbeat louder than the crackling fire.

Maybe this marriage wouldn’t start with passion or grand declarations.

Maybe it would begin with silence.

With space.

With a man who spoke in gestures and vows kept in actions, not words.

And for the first time since the wedding began, Maelin felt something strange stir in her chest.

Not hope.

Not yet.