Morning came slowly, creeping in through the wide windows and settling over the room in muted shades of gray.
The soft light stretched across the polished floorboards, touching the edge of Ava’s dress as she stood silently by the window.
She hadn’t slept, not a second.
Her reflection on the glass looked almost unfamiliar.
she looked pale, hollow-eyed, but calm in a way that didn’t feel real.
Her hands rested against the window frame, her fingers cold despite the morning warmth.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the dark hallway again, the endless doors, the blinking red light of the camera.
The realization that he had seen everything still burned in her chest like an ember that wouldn’t go out.
A knock came at her door.
“Come in,” Ava said quietly, her voice flat.
The door opened, and Clara stepped in, carrying her usual polished smile.
“Good morning,” she began, but the words faltered as soon as she saw Ava.
She blinked, lowering her tablet slightly.
“Oh. You’re up already.”
Ava didn’t move.
She only turned her head slightly, her eyes meeting Clara’s for a second before drifting back toward the view outside.
“I thought you’d still be asleep,” Clara said after a moment, trying to sound casual.
“You look like you didn’t rest much.”
“I didn’t.”
There was no edge to her tone, no warmth either.
Just quiet exhaustion.
Clara hesitated near the door.
For once, her usual sharpness softened.
“Something wrong?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.
Ava’s lips twitched faintly.
“No. Everything’s perfect.”
The lie sat between them like smoke, it as thin, bitter and impossible to ignore.
Clara wanted to ask more, but she didn’t.
Whatever happening to ava internally was none of her business, she was forced to watch her and be her assistant already.
“Alright,” she said instead, forcing steadiness back into her voice.
“Well, I came to tell you your dress arrived early this morning. It’s waiting in the east hall. Mr. Cross requested that you see it before lunch.”
Ava turned finally, her movements slow and deliberate.
“My dress?”
“Yes.” Clara said, the smile on her face no longer there, she could still remember the designer spoke to her, she was glad that she no longer had to entertain him any longer.
“It’s beautiful. Hand-delivered by the designer himself, can you believe that? Apparently, he’s making last-minute adjustments, but he said you’d faint when you see it.” Clara said, the words sounded forced and sarcastic and she didn’t try to hide it.
Ava nodded faintly, her expression unreadable.
“I’ll see it after breakfast.”
“Good.,” Clara said quickly, shifting on her feet.
“You’ll need the energy. The next few days are going to be, well, a lot, you are going to met a lot of people quickly.”
Ava didn’t answer.
Clara lingered a moment longer, glancing toward her, then sighed softly.
“Try not to overthink everything. It’s just a wedding. Mr Cross just needs you to be perfect” Clara didn’t add the part where she also needed her to be, she had spent the last few days planning the fastest wedding ever and she wouldn’t be glad if someone like ava ruined her hardwork.
Ava’s eyes flicked toward her, and for a moment Clara regretted saying it.
“It’s not just a wedding,” Ava said quietly.
“It’s his wedding.” This chapter was taken from g.com without permission.
The way she said it in a low and heavy tone made Clara’s stomach twist a bit.
She gave a small nod, not trusting herself to say more, and slipped out of the room.
When the door closed, Ava finally exhaled.
Her shoulders dropped slightly, but the heaviness in her chest didn’t lift.
The morning light seemed sharper now, almost mocking in its warmth.
She changed into a simple dress and tied her hair loosely.
Her eyes were swollen, but she didn’t bother to hide it.
If he noticed, that was his problem.
_____________
By the time she made it downstairs, breakfast had already been served.
The long dining table gleamed beneath the chandelier, every detail perfectly in place as if nothing in this house could ever dare be out of order.
Damian sat at the head of the table, as he always did, a newspaper in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.
His expression was calm, composed, but when she entered, his gaze flicked up almost immediately.
He didn’t say anything.
He just watched as she walked across the room and took her seat across from him.
The silence between them was heavy, but not unfamiliar.
Ava picked up her fork, her movements slow and careful.
She wasn’t angry anymore.
She was past that, past shouting, past begging.
What she felt now was colder and steadier.
She didn’t look at him, but she knew he was studying her.
She could feel it, the weight of his eyes lingering too long.
Her hair framed her face in soft waves, but he could still see the faint redness around her eyes, the traces of a night without sleep.
He tried not to notice.
He tried harder not to care.
But he did.
“Clara told you about the dress?” he asked finally, setting the paper aside.
“Yes,” she said simply.
“Good. The wedding’s in two days,” he continued, his tone calm but firm.
“You’ll need to be ready. Cameras, interviews, reporters, everything. The world will be watching.”
“I know.”
“You need to look perfect.”
Ava looked up then, meeting his gaze for the first time that morning.
Her eyes were calm but distant, a quiet defiance flickering beneath them.
“I always have to, don’t I?”
His jaw tightened slightly, but his face stayed neutral.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?” she asked softly.
“That I should smile and pretend again? Act like everything’s fine?”
He didn’t answer.
The truth was, yes, that’s exactly what he needed her to do.
The world didn’t care about what went on behind the walls of this house.
They only cared about the illusion, the perfect couple, the flawless wedding, the story everyone wanted to believe.
“Ava,” he said finally, his tone low, “I told you before. Appearances matter. You don’t have to like it. You just have to play your part.”
Her fork clinked against the plate as she set it down.
His expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker in his eyes, something that almost looked like guilt.
“You should rest after breakfast,” he said instead, choosing the safer ground.
“We’ll have a photograph taken this evening.”
“I’ll be there,” she said, her voice clipped.
The silence returned, thicker now.
The faint sound of cutlery and the ticking clock filled the space between them.
Damian watched her in silence as she sipped her coffee.
She looked fragile, but there was a sharpness to her movements now, a kind of control that hadn’t been there before.
It unsettled him.
He wanted to say something, anything, to break through that wall she had built overnight, but the words never came.
Instead, he reached for his cup again.
“The photographer will be here at four,” he said quietly.
“Try to be in a better mood by then.”
Ava’s lips twitched, a ghost of a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“I’ll do my best, Mr. Cross.”
The way she said his name made him pause.
it was cold, formal and distant.
it was what they were to each other.
He stared at her for a moment longer, then looked away.
Clara entered the room just then, carrying a folder and wearing her usual polished smile.
“Mr. Cross, the calls for this afternoon have been confirmed,” she said quickly, before glancing at Ava.
“Mr Evans, the photographer also asked if you’d like to add some last details”
“I don’t,” Ava said simply.
Clara hesitated, then nodded.
“I’ll let him know.”
When she left again, the silence between them returned, it was familiar, but sharper now, like glass that might break at the slightest touch.
Damian folded the newspaper, his fingers tapping lightly against it.
“You didn’t sleep last night,” he said finally.
Ava froze.
For a moment, her breath caught, but she forced herself to meet his eyes.
“And how would you know that?”
He didn’t answer.
He didn’t need to.
Something flickered behind her expression, fear, realization, maybe both but she hid it quickly.
“You should stop worrying about me,” she said quietly.
“You have a wedding to plan.”
He studied her for a long moment.
“I’m not worried.”
“Good,” she said, standing abruptly.
“Then we understand each other.”
She turned and walked out before he could say another word.
Damian watched her leave, his jaw tightening.
The echo of her footsteps faded down the hall, but the image of her eyes.
red, distant and broken, stayed in his mind long after she was gone.
He set the newspaper down and leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly.
he couldn’t help but wonder what went on in the mind of ava sinclair