Chapter 3 The Ice House

Elena had never known silence could be so loud.

The Blackwood mansion echoed with it every marble hallway, every cavernous room a monument to distance. She wandered its halls like a ghost, her footsteps muffled by Persian rugs and polished stone.

The staff were polite but wary. No one knew how to speak to the bride who wasn't supposed to be there.

Adrian's absence became predictable. He was a machine gone before she woke, buried in work until well past midnight. When he was home, the atmosphere grew tighter, as if the house itself knew its owners were broken strangers.

She started calling it the Ice House in her head. A place where warmth went to die.

At breakfast, she sat alone in a dining room that could seat thirty.

At charity galas, she stood beside him like a mannequin, smiling for photos while his hand hovered above the small of her back but never touched.

They shared a name. But not a life.

One evening, a rare thunderstorm rolled in.

Elena was in the conservatory, sketching the rain through the glass walls when Adrian entered unexpectedly. He looked tired his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, hair wet from the storm.

They hadn't spoken in days.

"You're still awake?" he asked.

She nodded. "Couldn't sleep."

He glanced at her sketchpad. "You draw."

"I used to," she said quietly. "Before all this."

He said nothing, but he didn't leave either.

Lightning flashed across the sky, briefly lighting his face. For the first time, she saw something there not anger, not coldness... but sadness.

"Why didn't you fight it?" he asked suddenly.

Elena blinked. "Fight what?"

"This marriage. Being used. Replaced."

She looked at him, heart thudding. "Would it have changed anything if I had?"

He didn't answer.

She stood, slowly closing her sketchpad. "You think I wanted this life? That I dreamed of marrying a man who couldn't look me in the eyes?"

"I didn't ask for you."

"And I didn't want to be your second choice," she snapped. Her voice cracked like the thunder outside.

He stiffened.

"But I stayed," she continued, softer now. "I tried. For two years, I tried. And not once did you try back."

Adrian's jaw clenched. "You want me to lie? Pretend this was meant to be?"

"No," she whispered. "I want you to see me. Just once."

Silence.

Then he turned and left, the door clicking shut behind him like a verdict.

Elena stood in the conservatory long after the storm passed, watching the world go still.

The Ice House had never been colder.