Chapter 33 – A Silent Distance

Anastasia woke to silence.

She reached out instinctively, only to find the space beside her cold.

Her fingers lingered on the sheets, her chest tightening with an emotion she refused to name.

He had left again.

Just like the night before.

A part of her knew this was nothing new—Leonidas was a man of power, of responsibility. He had always been unpredictable, impossible to hold in one place for too long.

And yet…

The weight of his absence felt different this time.

She curled her fingers into the fabric, pressing her lips together.

It was foolish to expect anything else.

She had no claim over him.

This was not a love story.

It was an arrangement.

And she had no right to feel this hollow when he was gone.

She dressed slowly, the morning light spilling through the curtains as she made her way downstairs.

The estate was as immaculate as ever, the servants moving swiftly, efficiently.

But something was off.

Or maybe, she was imagining it.

She moved through the halls, feeling as though she were walking through a place too large, too empty.

When she reached the dining table, his seat was untouched.

A single plate was prepared for her.

No note.

No message.

Just an empty chair across from hers.

She let out a slow breath and sat down, trying to ignore the ache creeping into her chest.

He was working.

That was all.

There was nothing strange about this.

So why did it feel like she was being left behind?

Her fingers traced the rim of her teacup, her mind wandering to her father.

She had not heard from him in days.

She had not dared to ask.

Leonidas had promised her, in his own way, that her father's business would be protected.

That this marriage would ensure her family was safe.

But had he kept his word?

Did he still intend to?

She exhaled softly.

She wanted to believe him.

And yet, she couldn't shake the small, growing doubt gnawing at her.

What if she was just another one of his possessions?

What if this was never about a bargain at all?

What if he had simply wanted her?

And everything else was just a convenient excuse?

She pushed the thought away.

Leonidas was many things.

But he was not a liar.

At least… she didn't think he was.

The rest of the morning passed in a haze of restless energy.

She found herself drifting toward his study, as if pulled by some invisible force.

The room was quiet, untouched.

His scent still lingered—dark spice, leather, and something deeper.

Her fingers brushed over the polished wood of his desk.

And then—she saw it.

A letter.

Unfolded, as if it had been read and hastily set aside.

Her heart pounded.

It wasn't her place to pry.

And yet, her hand moved before she could stop herself.

She lifted the parchment carefully, her eyes scanning the words.

You thought burying the past would make it disappear.

You were wrong.

There was no signature.

Only a single initial.

I.

A chill spread through her limbs.

Who had sent this?

Why had Leonidas not mentioned it?

What past was being spoken of?

Anastasia's grip tightened slightly.

Had he left this morning because of this?

Was this what had pulled him away?

Something in her stomach twisted.

Leonidas was not a man who feared anything.

But if someone had dared to send him a letter like this…

Then perhaps, there was something in his past even he could not control.

She set the letter back carefully, forcing herself to breathe evenly.

And then—a voice behind her.

"Madam."

She flinched, turning swiftly.

Standing in the doorway was Adrian.

Leonidas' secretary.

His expression was carefully neutral, but his eyes flickered toward the desk.

Anastasia's pulse quickened.

Had he seen her reading it?

Had he known she would find it?

A slow silence stretched between them before he finally spoke again.

"Master Leonidas will return late tonight."

She hesitated.

"…Did he say why?"

Adrian's lips twitched in something too unreadable.

"No, madam. Just that you should not wait up for him."

She swallowed.

There was something strange about his tone.

Something almost carefully placed.

Like he was telling her more than he was saying.

Anastasia pressed her hands against the desk, grounding herself.

"…He's keeping things from me, isn't he?" she murmured.

A long pause.

Then, softly—

"Master Leonidas does what he believes is best."

And just like that, the conversation ended.

6. The Night That Felt Different (Leonidas' POV)

Leonidas arrived well past midnight.

The estate was silent.

But the moment he stepped inside, he felt the difference.

Anastasia's presence lingered.

Even without seeing her, he knew.

She was awake.

Thinking.

Doubting him.

His jaw tightened as he shrugged off his coat.

He hated this.

Hated the feeling of distance creeping between them.

And yet…

He could not give her the truth.

Not yet.

Not until he knew who was pulling the strings in the shadows.

Not until he knew if the past he had buried was about to be unearthed.

He inhaled slowly before stepping into their room.

She was there.

Sitting up in bed, her hair loose around her shoulders, her eyes soft but searching.

Waiting for him.

He forced a small smirk, unbuttoning his cuffs as he approached.

"You should be asleep."

She watched him for a long moment.

And then—softly.

"You were gone for a long time."

He exhaled, slipping into bed beside her.

He could feel her uncertainty.

Her hesitation.

So he did the only thing he could.

He pulled her into his arms, crushing her against his chest.

Burying his face in her hair.

And whispering, "Don't think. Just sleep."

She tensed for a brief second.

Then, slowly, she relaxed.

And even as she drifted off, Leonidas remained awake.

His eyes open.

His mind spinning.

Because he knew—

No matter how tightly he held her tonight,

No matter how much she wanted to trust him…

The truth would break her.

And he would do anything—anything—to stop that from happening.