Chapter -2 - The House Of Quiet Rules

Chapter 2 – The House of Quiet Rules

The house had always been too quiet.

Even as a child, I knew silence could mean many things. In our home, it was not peace, but expectation—a silence that was meant to be obeyed.

I never questioned it.

Not when the servants moved soundlessly past me, their hands clasped before them.

Not when my wet nurse spoke in measured tones, as if any word above a whisper might shatter something fragile.

Not even when the great doors of the west wing remained closed, always closed, as if something lay beyond them that should never be disturbed.

But the older I got, the more I realized: This silence was not for everyone.

It was for me.

And that realization was my first lesson in understanding my place in this world.

I remember the first time I tested the rules.

It was a quiet afternoon, the kind where the air felt still, as if the house itself were holding its breath. I was wandering the eastern hall, fingers trailing along the cold stone walls, when I heard it—a voice.

Not the measured, careful tones of the servants. Not the hushed murmurs of tutors or attendants.

A child's voice.

It was faint, barely more than an echo, but I recognized it instantly because… it was unfamiliar.

I stopped, heart pounding.

I had never met another child in this house.

For a long moment, I hesitated. Then, slowly, I followed the sound.Step by step.Around the bend of the hallway.Past the portraits of ancestors whose names I did not know.

Toward the west wing.I reached the doors—the forbidden doors. The ones I had been told never to approach. The ones my wet nurse had dragged me away from before.

But I had already come this far.

I pressed my ear against the heavy wood.

For a heartbeat, all I heard was silence.

Then—the voice again. Closer.

I barely had time to process it before a hand clamped down on my shoulder.

"Not here."

A servant. One of the older ones. Her grip was tight, her expression carefully neutral.

I opened my mouth to ask—Who was that? Why can't I go in?

But before I could, she knelt to my level, voice dropping to a whisper.

"Your father wouldn't like this."

The way she said it made my skin prickle.

I did not argue.

I let her guide me away.

And even though I never saw who was behind those doors, I knew one thing for certain:

I was not alone in this house.

After that, I became more aware.

Of the footsteps in the halls that did not belong to servants.

Of the voices that were cut off whenever I entered a room.

Of the books left open in the library, their pages marked by someone else's hands.

And then there were the gifts.Not the kind given to me openly, wrapped in silk or handed down by attendants.

These were different.

A wooden horse, left near the garden steps where I often sat.

A scarf, small enough to belong to a child, tucked into my dresser one morning without explanation.

A puzzle piece, slipped into my pocket when I wasn't looking.

Small things.

Things that should not have been there.

For a long time, I didn't know what to do with them. I never mentioned them to the servants, nor did I try to return them.

Instead, I kept them.

And slowly, a picture began to form in my mind—one made of fragments, hints, and things left unsaid.

Somewhere in this house, there was another child.

Maybe more than one.And if they existed…Why had I never met them?Days passed. Then weeks.

One evening, as I sat in the study pretending to read, I overheard the steward speaking to a servant near the doorway.

"The Lord gave instructions," the steward said. His voice was low, clipped. "The young master is not to leave the east wing alone."

There was a pause.Then, a quiet response. "And if he does?"

The steward sighed. "Then we remind him of the rules."

Silence followed.And just like that, I understood.The rules were not for everyone.

They were for me.

And the more I learned, the more I began to wonder…

What exactly was I being kept away from him.