Not Enemies

The kitchen was quiet, lit only by the under-cabinet lights that bathed the marble counters in a soft golden hue. It was late. Everyone else in the house had gone to bed.

She walked past Edward, who had a cup of coffee in his hands, as the cool atmosphere in the kitchen suddenly turned uncomfortable for Clarice over Edward's words.

Just as she was about walking further away, his words hit her

"Clarice, it doesn't have to be acontract marriage, you know? We could make it real."

Clarice stops in silence as Edward turns his gaze from his coffee cup to her back.

She finally turns to him, her voice low, thoughtful. "You meant that."

Edward stands up

"Every bit of it"

Clarice watches him for a long moment. She could see it clearly in his expression: he liked her. Not out of convenience, or guilt, or gratitude. It was something real. Too real.

She drew in a soft breath. "I see the way you look at me, Edward."

He didn't deny it.

"I'm not blind," she continued, "and I'm not ungrateful. You've done more for me and Becca than anyone ever has. You've given her a second chance. And me... a chance to finally breathe"

She paused to breathe.

"But kindness is one thing. Realness is something else entirely. And the last time I opened the door to that…"

Her words trailed off, but her meaning was clear.

"My daughter was dying," she said softly. "And the man I'd built a life with disappeared without looking back. Left me with hospital bills and silence. So no offense, Edward, but the word real doesn't mean what it used to. Not for me."

Edward's gaze didn't shift. If anything, it softened.

"I'm not asking you to fall in love with me tonight," he said.

"I know," Clarice replied. "But if I let this become real, it stops being safe."

She moves a bit closer.

"I'm still getting to know you. And I don't trust anything I feel yet, not about you, not about this house, and not about myself."

There was no bitterness in her voice. Only calm honesty.

"I just want to fulfill what I promised. Do what's expected. Repay my debt, however long it takes. No dreams. No expectations. I can survive that."

Edward's jaw flexed, but he didn't argue.

Clarice offered a soft sincere smile but guarded.

"Goodnight, Edward."

He nodded slowly. "Goodnight."

She walked out without looking back, leaving the quiet kitchen behind, and Edward stood in the stillness, watching the door she'd gone through for several seconds longer than necessary.

The hallway was dim and unusually quiet. Becca wandered slowly, barefoot, with a half-eaten cookie in her hand and her phone light off. She wasn't entirely sure where she was going.

Something about the house still felt like a puzzle she hadn't figured out even after weeks in the mansion. Too many doors. Too many secrets. She'd heard Sofia mention a terrace some peaceful place overlooking the garden. That's where she thought she might go.

She turned down a different corridor than usual and stopped short.

Albert was there.

He wasn't moving. Just standing in the middle of the hall like he'd stepped out of the shadows. Becca was taken by surprise.

"Sorry," she said quickly. "Didn't mean to sneak up on you."

Albert barely blinked. His face was as unreadable as ever quiet, composed. His hands were in his hoodie pockets, sleeves pushed halfway up. He looked tired, but not in a physical way.

"It's fine," he said finally.

Becca shifted her weight, glancing past him. "I was looking for the terrace. Thought I could find it on my own, but… clearly, I overestimated myself."

Albert didn't say anything. But after a pause, he turned and started walking silently down the hallway.

She hesitated only a second before following.

They didn't speak. His footsteps were soft. Hers were slower. He didn't look back to check if she was behind him, and she didn't need to ask where they were going.

Eventually, they reached a set of glass doors. Albert opened one, holding it just long enough for her to step through. She gave him a small nod of thanks and walked out into the cool night.

The terrace was wide and clean, draped in silver from the moonlight. The stone railing framed a quiet view of the gardens, their hedges ghostly pale in the dark.

Becca leaned against the edge and breathed in deeply.

"I see why you come here," she said softly.

Albert stood near the far end, arms crossed, gaze on the trees.

"You come here a lot?" she asked.

He nodded. "When I need quiet."

"I like quiet," she said. "Most people think that means I'm hiding. But sometimes I just... don't want to be expected to perform."

Albert glanced at her. Not judgmental, just observing.

"You don't talk a lot, do you?"

He shrugged. "I don't have much to say anymore."

Becca smiled faintly. "That's okay. I think there's something nice about not being expected to fill the silence."

They stood there for a while, neither pressing the other for conversation. It was a truce without being spoken.

"You don't come off as cold to me," Becca said, her voice quieter now. "More like... quietly guarded."

Albert turned his head slightly, and for a moment, his expression flickered. Not surprise just... something softer than usual. But he didn't answer.

"You don't seem like someone who pushes people away for no reason," she added. "Just someone who got used to not being understood."

Albert didn't look at her, but his silence felt different this time. Less distant. More present.

"And you?" he asked. "What are they saying about you?"

Becca gave a small laugh. "Not much. I'm the one with someone else's heart beating in her chest. Most people don't know what to do with that."

He looked at her then. Really looked.

And for a second, something passed between them, not warmth, not interest. Just recognition.

"You're not what I expected," he said finally.

She smiled again, this time without sarcasm. "Neither are you."

They stood in silence again, side by side but not close, facing the night air like it held answers to questions neither of them could ask aloud.

It wasn't friendship. Not yet.

But it wasn't discomfort.

Not enemies.

Just two people, quietly not running away from each other.