Chapter 5 A chilling kind

Chapter 5

"Watch where you are going". He said strictly with a clenched jaw. Then continue to walk like nothing happened with her behind him like a little cat at its owner's lead.

Crystal followed Andrew as he offered her a cold invitation to the dining room, her footsteps soft against the marble floor. Her breath caught as she entered the space. it was nothing like she expected. The room was a masterclass in modern design, the kind of place you'd expect to see in an architectural magazine, not in a private residence. For a brief moment, she forgot the tension between them, mesmerized by the room.

Crisp white walls formed a perfect contrast against the polished, veined marble floor, which gleamed like a frozen lake beneath her. The early morning light poured in through tall, frameless windows, scattering across the floor in golden streaks. Everything about the room radiated intentional elegance.

In the center stood a striking dining table. an artwork more than a piece of furniture crafted from a single slab of tempered glass, its edges beveled and set atop a sculptural steel base. Surrounding it were eight modern chairs with slender black frames and smooth ivory cushions, their design simple yet undeniably sophisticated.

Above the table, a chandelier hung like a cluster of frozen stars. Crystal tilted her head back, unable to resist admiring it. The fixture sparkled with hundreds of dangling crystals, catching the morning light and throwing rainbow prisms across the white walls. It was beautiful, ethereal, and it gave the entire room a dreamlike quality.

Her eyes trailed across the art adorning the walls. Abstract paintings, muted in tone yet rich in emotion, added warmth to the otherwise minimalist aesthetic. There was something carefully curated about it all like everything in this house had been handpicked to reflect a vision. But whose vision? Andrew didn't seem the type to fuss over art and light fixtures. Or maybe that was just another thing she didn't know about him.

He stood by the far window, his tall frame silhouetted against the light. He didn't turn when he spoke. "You can help yourself."

His voice was low, clipped, and devoid of warmth. Crystal felt a small chill run down her spine, despite the room's ample sunlight. Still, she nodded, as though he could see her, and made her way to the table. A tray of breakfast had already been laid out.

Fresh fruit, eggs, toast, and a steaming carafe of coffee. She hesitated for a moment, unsure if she was truly welcome to eat, but her stomach grumbled in protest, and she decided to take the offer.

As she settled into one of the chairs, she caught herself glancing toward Andrew again. He remained motionless, his hands in his pockets, gaze fixed somewhere beyond the window. The sunlight framed him like a painting. detached, handsome and unknowable.

The first bite of food grounded her. The eggs were perfectly seasoned, the fruit sweet and ripe. She tried to focus on the flavors, but it was impossible to ignore the growing curiosity that bubbled inside her. Andrew Ryan, really? What had hardened him into this silent, distant figure?

To her surprise, he didn't join her at the table. Instead, he straightened from the window and moved toward the door with deliberate grace.

"I'll get going," he said without turning to face her.

Crystal blinked. "Oh. Okay."

And just like that, he was gone.

His footsteps echoing faintly down the hallway.

She stared at the door after he left, feeling a strange mix of relief and disappointment. Part of her had wanted him to sit, to talk, to unravel the tension that had settled like fog between them. But another part. The more sensible part was glad. She needed space to think.

She continued her meal in silence, letting the peace of the room soothe her frayed nerves. Yet her thoughts kept drifting to the previous night: the way Andrew had appeared so suddenly, how he had carried her, the unexpected tenderness that warred with his cold demeanor. There was a contradiction in him, one that intrigued and unsettled her all at once.

By the time she finished her breakfast, her mind had settled on an idea. It was risky, maybe even foolish, but she couldn't leave without saying something. Something real. A conversation with Andrew seemed impossible, but a letter, that was something she could do.

She stood abruptly, her chair scraping softly against the marble. Determined, she made her way to the guest lounge, a spacious room she'd briefly passed through before. The air in the lounge was still, carrying the faint scent of fresh linen and citrus polish. Sunlight spilled across the black colored couch, and on the coffee table sat a notepad and pen perhaps left for guest use, perhaps forgotten. Either way, it felt like a sign.

She sat and took a deep breath. Her fingers hovered over the blank page, unsure where to begin.

Mr. Ryan

Thank you for your hospitality. I know I've been more trouble than I'm worth, but I want you to know that I'm grateful.

I don't pretend to understand you. But sometimes you're kind, and sometimes you're cold. But I wish you happiness and pray that one day, you will truly smile.

Until then, thank you. For the food, for the place to sleep and for not leaving me out in the storm.

Crystal . She then proceeds to draw a baby frog winking.

She read it over once satisfied with her letter, then folded it carefully and wrapped it in the throw blanket draped over the armrest. Just as she was placing it back on the sofa, she noticed two women standing near the doorway. maids, dressed in identical uniforms. They watched her with mild curiosity, clearly new to the job or unsure of her presence.

Crystal stood and offered them a polite smile. "Please don't touch this," she said, gesturing to the blanket covered letter. "Mr. Ryan doesn't like people moving his things, especially the blanket."

The maids exchanged uncertain glances, then nodded.

Crystal turned away, hiding a smirk. It seems like they are new here. And if it kept them from disturbing her message, then so be it.

With that taken care of, she was directed upstairs to shower and change. The hot water was a welcome comfort, washing away the last remnants of sleep and unease.

She dressed quickly, packed her belongings, and took one last look around the room.

Crystal descended the stairs with quiet steps, avoiding the places where she might run into Andrew or his staff. She didn't want a drawn out goodbye. She'd said everything she needed to say in the letter.

Should she wait for the doctor? But the answer came swiftly. No. She didn't want another conversation filled with cautious questions and half answers.

So she stepped out into the morning light, the heavy door closing quietly behind her. Crystal didn't look back.

But a small part of her wondered if, when Andrew found the letter, he would read it or if he'd toss it aside like an inconvenience.

Either way, she had done her part for he had rescued her when she least expected it. And now, the next chapter of her life was waiting.