The Quiet Man's World

The grand Thorne estate stood in dignified silence, much like its master. Ariana had seen wealth before—her family wasn't exactly poor—but this was different. The walls didn’t just shine with polish and elegance; they whispered of generations of discipline and legacy. It wasn’t the kind of home where children laughed loudly or people left their shoes near the door. It was... still.

Theon walked beside her, silent as ever, hands clasped behind his back. His strides were long and even, but he slowed down every few steps as if making sure she kept up. He hadn’t said a word since they entered the house. Not even when she almost knocked over an antique vase in the hallway, causing a maid to flinch.

Ariana’s nerves were dancing. Every creak of the floorboards felt amplified. She finally cleared her throat. “So… this is home, huh?”

Theon glanced at her. “Yes. I hope you’ll feel comfortable here.”

“Comfortable might be a stretch,” she muttered, half-joking.

To her surprise, a soft smile touched his lips. It vanished quickly, but it had been there.

He led her upstairs to a room at the far end of the corridor. It had a canopy bed, pastel drapes, and windows that opened to a blooming garden. The scent of roses wafted in with the breeze.

“This will be your room,” he said.

Ariana blinked. “My room?”

“Yes. I thought you might want your own space.”

Her pride prickled. “Because you don’t want me in yours?”

He looked genuinely startled. “No, that’s not it. I simply didn’t want you to feel forced. We’ve only just… met.”

There was something earnest in the way he said it, and it took the fire out of her indignation. She sat on the edge of the bed, brushing her fingers over the embroidered sheets.

“I suppose that’s considerate,” she admitted.

Theon nodded once and turned to leave. “Dinner is at seven. You can come down whenever you’re ready.”

And just like that, he was gone.

Dinner was a quiet affair, with more silverware than food and a table so long it felt like they were dining across countries. Ariana poked at her soup, occasionally sneaking glances at Theon, who ate with perfect posture and slow, deliberate motions.

He didn’t speak much. When he did, it was to ask if she needed anything or liked the food. No forced jokes, no smug comments. Just a quiet presence that made her curious.

“You don’t talk a lot, do you?” she asked finally.

“I speak when necessary,” he replied, without offense.

“You must be a hit at parties.”

“I don’t attend them.”

She grinned. “Of course you don’t.”

There was silence again. Then, unexpectedly, Theon set his spoon down. “Ariana.”

She looked up.

“I know this arrangement isn’t what you hoped for. But I will never force you to do anything. I want you to feel safe here.”

She was stunned. She hadn’t expected him to acknowledge her feelings so openly.

“I don’t hate you, you know,” she murmured.

“I didn’t think you did.”

“I just…” She trailed off, unsure how to explain the storm inside her.

“I understand,” he said gently.

And somehow, she believed he did.

Later that night, Ariana lay in bed staring at the ceiling. The silence of the house was comforting and strange. And downstairs, somewhere beyond her door, was the man she had married just days ago—a man who had promised her safety without ever raising his voice.

She didn’t love him. Not yet.

But she didn’t fear him either.

And that, perhaps, was a beginning.

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