Chapter 28 – A Familiar Stranger

The estate was quiet after Leonidas left.

The lingering scent of him still clung to the air, a faint, intoxicating mix of cedarwood and something darker, something uniquely him. Anastasia sat by the large bay window in her room, the sunlight streaming through the sheer curtains, casting soft golden patterns along the marble floor.

For a while, she simply stared outside, watching the wind rustle the trees in the garden.

Her mind, however, was far away.

Her fingers curled around the fabric of her dress, a slow, creeping unease settling in her chest.

Leonidas.

Her husband.

A man she had only known for days, yet a man who treated her as if she had always belonged to him.

Why?

The Weight of His Gaze

From the moment she met him, something had felt… off.

It wasn't his appearance—tall, sharp-featured, imposing. Nor was it his demeanor—controlled, unreadable, yet somehow gentle with her.

It was his gaze.

The way his dark eyes settled on her.

The way he looked at her, like she was something he had long waited for.

There had been no hesitation the night they met, no moment of consideration.

One look—one single glance—and he had claimed her.

It didn't make sense.

No man fell in love that fast.

No man looked at a woman with that much emotion, that much possession unless there was something…

Something she didn't understand.

Her chest tightened.

Why does he look at me like that?

Too Fast, Too Much

Leonidas had been engaged to Isabella.

It was supposed to be her sister's wedding.

Not hers.

Yet, when Isabella ran away, it had been Anastasia's name that was called in her place.

She had expected hesitation from Leonidas, perhaps even frustration or disappointment.

But instead…

He had accepted it without a word.

Without a moment of doubt.

Not once did he question it.

Not once did he seem shocked or hesitant.

Not once did he even mention Isabella.

As if it had never been her he wanted in the first place.

As if…

Anastasia's breath caught.

Her hands curled into fists against her lap.

That wasn't normal.

That wasn't how arranged marriages worked.

That wasn't how men worked.

Had They Met Before?

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to recall.

Had she ever seen him before?

Had there been a moment, even just once, where their paths had crossed?

Would she have noticed him? Surely, she would have.

A man like Leonidas wasn't forgettable.

He was the kind of man who commanded attention just by existing.

And yet…

Nothing.

No memory.

No vague recollection of him standing in a ballroom.

No moment of catching him in the streets.

No whispers of his name before their engagement.

Nothing.

And yet, he looked at her as if he had known her for a lifetime.

Why?

Not a Stranger, Not a Lover

Leonidas was not acting like a man who had just met his wife.

A man who had been forced into an arranged marriage.

He was acting like a man who had found something he had lost.

Like a man who had already made up his mind about her long before she knew his name.

The way he held her.

The way he spoke to her.

The way he searched for her the moment he returned home.

What did it mean?

What Did He Want?

Leonidas was powerful.

A man with more wealth, influence, and control than most could ever dream of.

He could have married anyone. Anyone.

A foreign princess.

A noblewoman with stronger ties.

A woman with wealth to match his own.

But instead, he had taken her without a second thought.

Why?

What did he want from her?

Why did he touch her like he was afraid to break her?

Why did he act like he had already won her over when she barely understood him?

Why did he watch her so carefully, like he was waiting for something?

The questions piled up, one after the other, until they threatened to crush her.

Did He Love Her?

Anastasia pressed a hand to her chest, feeling the frantic beating of her heart.

Was he in love with her?

No.

That couldn't be right.

That kind of love took time, didn't it?

Love didn't happen overnight.

Love wasn't this.

Was it?

A deep unease settled in her stomach.

She needed answers.

But could she ask him?

Would he even tell her?

And more importantly—

Did she really want to know?

A Shadow of Something Unspoken

A soft knock at the door startled her out of her thoughts.

She turned, blinking as one of the servants stood hesitantly in the doorway.

"Madam," the woman said, bowing her head slightly. "Would you like anything? Tea, perhaps?"

Anastasia hesitated.

Her throat felt dry, her mind still tangled in too many thoughts.

But instead of answering, she found herself asking something else.

"…Do you know how long he's lived here?"

The servant looked surprised by the question.

"Master Leonidas?"

Anastasia nodded slowly.

The woman hesitated for a moment before answering, her hands clasped neatly in front of her.

"This is one of Master Leonidas' properties, Madam," she said carefully. "But… he hardly ever stays here."

Anastasia's brows furrowed slightly.

"…He doesn't?"

The servant shook her head. "No, Madam. In the past, he only came here when necessary—business dealings, meetings that required his presence in the city. Even then, he never stayed long. A night or two, perhaps, before moving on."

A strange, uneasy feeling settled in Anastasia's chest.

"Then… why did he bring me here?" Anastasia unknowingly thought out loud.

The woman paused, as if choosing her words carefully.

"…I cannot say for certain," she said, glancing down. "But ever since you arrived, things have changed."

"Changed?"

The servant gave a small nod.

"The house was always kept in perfect condition, of course. Master Leonidas is meticulous about his properties, and this estate has always been well-maintained. But… it was never truly lived in."

Anastasia blinked.

She had felt it the moment she arrived—the coldness, the emptiness of the house. It was grand, luxurious, but there had been something missing.

A warmth that only presence could give.

The presence of someone who called it home.

And yet, now…

Now, everything was different.

The library, once untouched, was now filled with her presence, her books resting in the places she had left them.

The garden, where he had barely spent any time before, was suddenly a place of interest—his gaze always seeking her when she walked among the flowers.

The dining table, which had likely seen more business dinners than personal meals, now had a seat permanently reserved for her.

And most of all—

He stayed.

Since the day he brought her here, he hadn't left.

For the first time, Leonidas lingered.

Anastasia swallowed.

Why?

What Had Changed?

Her mind spun with possibilities, none of them making sense.

If this house was merely one of many, if he had never cared for it before, then why now?

Why, after bringing her here, did he suddenly choose to stay?

Why did the servants whisper about how different things were?

Why did they say he wasn't like this before?

Anastasia's grip tightened around the armrest of the chair.

It didn't make sense.

Unless…

Unless this house had been waiting for something.

Or someone.

She exhaled sharply, her chest tightening.

She couldn't ask the servant. She couldn't ask anyone.

There was only one person who could answer her questi

And Anastasia couldn't shake the feeling that this house had never truly been a home to him—

Until now.

She swallowed.

But why?

What made this place different from his other estates?

Was it because of her?

No. That didn't make sense.

She had only just arrived.

And yet, when she looked back at the past few days—

When she thought about the way Leonidas acted, the way he clung to her, the way he possessed her like she was already his long before the wedding…

The feeling wouldn't leave.

That sinking, gnawing suspicion.

That maybe, just maybe—

This had never been about Isabella at all.