Liora spent most of the night regretting her curiosity.
The problem wasn’t that she’d entered Elara’s room.
The problem was what happened afterwards.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the closet.
The darkness.
The silence.
Adrian is standing far too close.
And Cassian’s footsteps are moving through the room beyond.
It should’ve been terrifying.
Instead, it was simply exhausting.
By the time morning arrived, she had slept barely four hours.
Which explained why she was glaring at a piece of toast as if it had personally offended her.
“You’re staring at breakfast.”
Liora looked up.
Adrian sat across from her at the long dining table.
As always, he appeared perfectly composed.
Not a hair out of place.
Not a wrinkle in sight.
Not a single sign that he had also spent the previous evening hiding inside a closet.
She narrowed her eyes.
“You could’ve warned me.”
Adrian calmly folded a newspaper.
“You weren’t supposed to be in the room.”
“That isn’t the point.”
“That is exactly the point.”
Liora groaned.
“No, the point is that you knew Cassian was around.”
“He is frequently around.”
“The point,” she repeated, “is that I nearly had a heart attack.”
“You survived.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
The irritating thing was that he sounded certain.
Liora stabbed her toast.
Aggressively.
Adrian continued drinking his coffee.
Unbothered.
Entirely too unbothered.
After a moment, she sighed.
A different thought had been bothering her since last night.
One she couldn’t shake.
“Why didn’t he remove it?”
Adrian glanced up.
“Remove what?”
“Elara’s room.”
Silence.
The air shifted.
Just slightly.
Liora immediately noticed.
Because Adrian rarely hesitated.
Yet this time he did.
Only for a second.
Then:
“Because he believes removing it means losing her again.”
The words landed heavily.
No clever remark followed.
No sarcastic response.
Nothing.
Liora looked down at her plate.
And suddenly remembered Cassian standing motionless inside that room.
The silence.
The sigh.
The grief.
For the first time, she wondered how many years a person could spend mourning before it became part of them.
Perhaps forever.
School felt strange without Tessa.
Again.
Liora checked her messages while walking across campus.
Still nothing.
Not even a short reply.
Which wasn’t like Tessa.
By lunchtime, she finally spotted her sitting beneath one of the large trees near the humanities building.
Relief washed through her immediately.
Then concern followed.
Tessa looked tired.
Dark circles sat beneath her eyes.
Her usually lively expression seemed dulled.
Liora approached quickly.
“Tess.”
Tessa looked up.
A smile appeared.
Small.
Genuine.
But tired.
“There she is.”
Liora sat beside her.
“Where were you yesterday?”
“My aunt needed help.”
“All day?”
“Pretty much.”
Liora studied her friend.
Something felt off.
Not suspicious.
Just…
different.
As if something occupied her thoughts.
“You okay?”
Tessa laughed softly.
“Funny.”
“What?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing.”
Liora looked away.
And there it was again.
The familiar guilt.
Tessa folded her arms.
“You know, eventually you’re going to tell me what’s happening.”
“I know.”
“When?”
“I don’t know.”
Silence.
Then:
“Can you at least tell me you’re okay?”
The question sounded simple.
It wasn’t.
Because the truth was complicated.
Was she okay?
Her family’s problems were disappearing.
Her future was becoming secure.
She lived in a mansion.
She had funds enough to further any level of education, even though they weren’t in her possession.
Yet she spent most days trying to become someone else.
Eventually, she nodded.
“I’m okay.”
The lie tasted bitter.
Tessa looked unconvinced.
But thankfully, she let it go.
For now.
That evening, Liora returned to the estate with one goal.
The journal.
She climbed onto her bed, pulled the worn leather notebook toward herself, and continued reading.
Hours slipped by unnoticed.
The more she read, the more Elara changed.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
She became real.
One entry discussed a charity gala she had hated attending.
Another complained about reporters.
One page contained three paragraphs dedicated entirely to a restaurant that had ruined her favourite dessert.
Liora laughed.
Actually laughed.
“You’re ridiculous.”
The journal, unfortunately, offered no response.
She turned another page.
Then paused.
The entry was different.
Shorter.
More serious.
Mrs Torres cried today.
Liora frowned.
She kept reading.
Apparently, one of the estate employees had been struggling financially after her husband fell ill.
Elara had quietly paid the family’s medical expenses.
Not publicly.
Not through charity events.
Privately.
Secretly.
The journal continued.
She’ll never know it was me.
Liora stared.
Then turned the page.
Another entry.
Another family.
Another problem solved.
Another anonymous act of kindness.
A pattern emerged.
Elara helped people.
Constantly.
Quietly.
Without recognition.
The realisation reminded her of someone.
Adrian.
Her brow furrowed.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
She turned another page.
Then froze.
One sentence caught her eye.
Simple.
Ordinary.
Yet oddly memorable.
Adrian says I interfere too much.
That was it.
Nothing else.
No explanation.
No context.
Liora reread it.
Then a third time.
Because suddenly she found herself wondering.
How close had they been?
Close enough for casual mentions.
Close enough to argue.
Close enough that Elara assumed future-her would understand who Adrian was without explanation.
A strange curiosity settled inside her.
One she quickly ignored.
Mostly.
Later that evening, she wandered downstairs searching for tea.
The estate had grown quieter.
Most staff had retired for the night.
The hallways felt calmer.
Less frantic.
Less busy.
As she approached one of the libraries, movement caught her eye.
A figure stood beyond the open doorway.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered.
Motionless.
Liora immediately stopped.
Her heart skipped.
Cassian.
Even from a distance, he commanded attention.
Not because he was loud.
Because he wasn’t.
Power radiated from him naturally.
Effortlessly.
His dark hair had been threaded heavily with silver.
Particularly near his temples.
The years had carved subtle lines around his eyes.
Not harsh lines.
Thoughtful ones.
The kind created by responsibility.
And loss.
He stood with one hand resting against the back of a chair.
Looking at something on the bookshelf.
For a moment, he seemed older than she expected.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
Like grief had settled permanently beneath his skin.
Liora immediately stepped backwards.
Instinct.
Self-preservation.
Panic.
Whatever it was, she obeyed it.
Before Cassian could turn around, she disappeared around the corner.
Her heart hammered against her ribs.
Too close.
That had been entirely too close.
Back inside her room, she returned to the journal.
Mostly to distract herself.
She opened it near the middle.
A folded photograph slipped free.
Liora caught it before it reached the floor.
Curious, she turned it over.
And blinked.
Cassian.
Elara.
Adrian.
All three stood together beneath bright sunlight.
Laughing.
Not posing.
Not formal.
Natural.
Comfortable.
Happy.
The sight startled her.
Because the dynamic felt obvious.
Cassian looked relaxed.
Elara looked amused.
And Adrian looked deeply irritated.
Liora turned the photograph over.
Writing covered the back.
Just one sentence.
Adrian hated this picture.
Liora stared.
Then looked at the photograph again.
Then the writing.
Then the photograph.
A slow smile appeared.
For the first time all evening, curiosity outweighed confusion.
Why?
Why does Adrian hate it?
And more importantly…
Why had Elara found that so funny?
The questions followed her long after she switched off the bedside lamp.
And somewhere in the darkness, another piece of the mystery quietly settled into place.
Hope we are all doing well today?
So sorry for not posting consistently.
I promise I will by the end of the month.
I also hope you all like the story, and I would really like to know your thoughts about it, so please leave comments.
Thank you.