The word that lingered

The Richardson estate was unusually quiet that morning. Every two months, the domestic staff were granted two full days off — a rare reprieve from the demands of one of the most powerful families in the country. Some staff used the time to visit distant relatives; others simply relished the luxury of doing absolutely nothing within the opulent walls of the estate.

Ethan padded into the grand marble kitchen barefoot, his hair tousled, wearing a plain T-shirt and joggers. On days like this, each member of the Richardson family was expected to fend for themselves — no maids to lay the table, no butlers to refill their teacups. He reached for a pan and started pulling out ingredients from the fridge when he heard the soft shuffle of slippers behind him.

"Can I help you with that, sire?" came a warm, slightly raspy voice.

Ethan turned and smiled. "Rita? I thought you went home."

Rita, a stout woman in her sixties with soft eyes and salt-and-pepper hair tucked into a scarf, chuckled gently. "No sire, I stayed. Have no family waiting for me back home."

He paused, the carton of eggs halfway out of the fridge. He remembered now — she had once confided in him, years ago, that her husband had passed early and she never had children. Her life had been quietly poured into the Richardson household.

Ethan turned to her fully, giving a small, genuine smile. "Well then, you've got us. We're your family now."

Her expression softened, eyes glistening just a bit. "Thank you for that. You've always been so good to me… saving me from half the stress your cousin brings."

She reached for the knife he was holding, but he pulled it back with a teasing grin. "Nope. I'm making my breakfast today, chef-style. You — go relax. Day off, remember?"

"But I've got nothing to do," she laughed, waving a hand.

"Then go to the park, or catch a movie. It's a beautiful day."

"I'm fine right here, sire."

Ethan narrowed his eyes, smiling. "If you stay, you'll end up trying to help."

She threw up her hands, laughing. "Alright, alright. I promise — I'll just sit and enjoy the rare honor of watching the Young Master Richardson make scrambled eggs."

"Promise you won't judge me?"

"Promise." She raised her pinky. Ethan chuckled and hooked his own finger around hers. They both laughed at the absurd formality of it.

Just then, voices echoed from the hallway, and in walked Stephanie and Henry, effortlessly elegant in their casual wear. Steph wore a silk robe tied at the waist, her hair pinned in a loose bun. Henry, already dressed for a virtual board meeting, carried a tablet under one arm.

"Oh, fill me in on the joke," Henry said, grinning. "I want to laugh too."

"Good morning, sir. Ma'am," Rita greeted with a soft nod.

"Good morning, Rita," they replied in unison.

Steph raised a brow at her son. "Hope you're not helping this boy cheat on his kitchen duties?"

"No ma'am," Rita smiled, clearly amused.

"Mom, I don't need help. I'm a great chef," Ethan declared, puffing his chest dramatically.

Steph tutted and smirked. "Great chef? We'll see about that."

They all laughed.

"I just need to make coffee for my baby," Steph said, moving to the counter. "He's got a meeting soon."

Henry smiled, touched. "Oh, thanks, baby." He leaned in and kissed her cheek.

"Eww, Mom, Dad, there's a teenager in the room," Ethan groaned, hiding his grin.

"I already had a girlfriend when I was your age, son," Henry teased.

"Dad!"

"Don't teach him that nonsense," Steph scolded, playfully smacking Henry on the arm.

"Don't listen to your mom, son. Man up."

Steph laughed and chased Henry around the island counter, both giggling like high school sweethearts. Ethan watched them, smiling to himself. Most people had no idea how far they had come.

His parents weren't always this close. Their marriage had started off cold — practically an arrangement, forced by the iron will of Smith Richardson, the family patriarch. After Henry's mother abandoned him and Anna to chase a new life with another man, Henry vowed never to love. He lived recklessly — wine, women, and indifference.

Until he met Stephanie.

Smith had seen something in her — intelligence, poise, ambition. When he introduced them, Henry was resistant, but a marriage was arranged anyway. Loveless at first, their bond had blossomed over time. Now, it was clear: he was head over heels for her, and she, despite her initial reservations, had melted into a woman fiercely in love with a man who once swore off commitment.

Later that morning, Ethan retreated to his room with a plate of toast and eggs, freshly made and steaming. He flopped onto his bed and grabbed his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he found the one name that always brought a smile to his face.

Iva.

He called. She picked up on the second ring.

"Heeeyyyyyy!" she said dramatically.

"Heeeyyyyy!" he mimicked, grinning.

They both burst into laughter.

"You bored?" she teased. "You never call."

"Maybe," he replied, mock-sheepish.

"The mighty Ethan Richardson… bored? The world must be ending!" she said with an exaggerated gasp.

"Shut up, Iva," he laughed.

"What about Liam? Isn't he home?"

"Nope. Out with his mom. Probably terrorizing the city."

She snorted. "I hope your mom doesn't find out about what happened yesterday."

"She already did."

"She heard?" Iva sounded alarmed.

"Yeah. Nothing ever escapes her. But she didn't say much. She never intervenes unless it's absolutely necessary."

"She's just being a mother," Iva said gently. "I love her for that."

"Thanks," Ethan said, voice softer now. "So... how's campaign prep going? You're up against Laura, the school queen."

"Oh, so you admit she's the queen now?" Iva quipped.

"I'm just quoting popular opinion," Ethan smirked.

There was a pause.

"Well," Iva said, voice cooler now, "it's going to be a fair election. Whoever wins, wins."

"But you need to step up," Ethan said seriously. "Laura's not just anyone."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, back in third grade, there was a beauty competition. Lina —— actually won, but somehow Laura was crowned instead. Lina's parents pulled her out of school. And rumor has it Laura's been threatening people not to run against her for student president."

Iva was silent.

"That explains why everyone's been warning me to go big," she muttered.

"You still have my vote," Ethan said with a smile.

"I'm not cutting corners. I'm doing this my way — with integrity."

"I love your spirit, girl," he said, admiringly.

That word — love — wrapped around Iva's heart like warm silk. She blinked, stunned by her own reaction. A giddy, fluttery feeling bubbled up in her chest. Why did that word make her feel like this?

"...Iva?" Ethan's voice pulled her back.

"Y-Yeah, I'm here," she stammered. "Um… I just remembered something I need to do. I gotta go."

"Alright. Have a nice day," he said kindly.

"You too, Ethan," she replied softly and ended the call.

She fell back on her bed, phone still in hand, eyes wide. Her heart thudded wildly in her chest. She stared at the ceiling, then covered her face with her hands, smiling like an idiot. She began to giggle, swaying her arms and legs in the air like a child on Christmas morning.

Why did the word "love" sound so sweet from his lips?

Why did it echo in her mind like a song she couldn't stop humming?

Was she… was she falling in love?

She placed her hand on her chest, feeling the rhythm of her heart — loud, erratic, alive.

Maybe she already had.

As the call ended, Ethan stared at his phone for a few seconds longer than necessary, the smile on his lips slowly fading into something softer, quieter — thoughtful.

He let the phone slip from his fingers and fall gently onto the duvet beside him.

His room was large, beautifully furnished, with glass walls that opened to a manicured courtyard. Yet somehow, at this moment, it felt too big, too silent. The laughter from earlier — his parents' flirtatious teasing in the kitchen — echoed faintly in his mind.

He leaned back against his headboard, hands behind his head, eyes on the ceiling.

There was something about Iva. Something… grounding.

She never treated him like a Richardson. Not like the others at school, who worshiped the family name more than the person behind it. With Iva, there were no masks, no measured words, no subtle performances.

And that made her dangerous — in the best way possible.

She didn't tiptoe around him. She didn't try to impress. She called him out when he was wrong. She laughed at his stupid jokes. She cared — not because of his last name or his inheritance or his school reputation.

Because he was Ethan.

And that scared him.

Because real friendships were rare in his world. And feelings? Feelings were a luxury no one in the Richardson family could afford without consequences.

He picked up his fork and poked absently at the now-lukewarm scrambled eggs on his plate.

"I love your spirit, girl," he had said.

Had it slipped out too easily?

He replayed the call in his head. Her laugh had changed afterward — a little nervous, unsure. She'd rushed off. That wasn't like her. Iva was usually cool and collected. But after that one word, she'd sounded… different.

He sat up slowly.

"Did I say something wrong?" he murmured.

But deep down, he knew he hadn't. He'd said something real. Maybe a little too real.

Ethan stood up, walked to the window, and looked out at the courtyard, where the breeze gently swayed the tall garden hedges. The Richardson estate was picture-perfect — the kind of place people dreamed of living in. But Ethan knew the truth.

This house had beautiful walls, yes — but it also had secrets hidden in every corner. Rivalries. Power plays. Expectations so high they could crush anyone who dared to live beneath them.

Liam was already chasing the crown. Anna was grooming him like a show pony. Ethan didn't want any of it. He didn't care for the image, the politics, the press.

But still, he was a Richardson. And even if he didn't want the game, the game still wanted him.

That's why Iva mattered so much. She was his tether to the real world. A world where people didn't judge you by how many foundations your mother funded or how many award galas your father was featured in. A world where honesty still meant something.

He leaned his forehead against the glass, eyes closing for a second.

"Iva…" he whispered to himself, the sound of her name settling into the quiet.

Then he chuckled softly, shaking his head.

He didn't know what this was — not yet. But whatever it was… it was starting to matter more than he expected.

And maybe, just maybe, she was the only thing in his life that wasn't trying to control him.