The mansion was quiet that afternoon, the only sounds the faint ticking of the grand clock in the hallway and the soft padding of Mia's shoes across the polished floors. She had been tidying up the west wing, carefully dusting shelves and arranging books, all while trying to avoid Aiden's watchful eyes.
But curiosity got the better of her. There was a room at the end of the corridor she hadn't seen yet, a door slightly ajar, faint sunlight spilling from within. A soft, almost fragile scent lingered near the gap—flowers and old paper. She hesitated, but something compelled her to step closer.
The door swung open easily, and her breath caught.
The room was frozen in time. Pictures of a young girl with golden hair, laughter captured in frames, toys carefully arranged as if she were still there. This must be Mae's room, Mia realized—the girl in the stories Mrs. Lawrence had told her in passing. Aiden's childhood sweetheart… gone, but never forgotten.
Mia took a cautious step inside, her fingers hovering over the edge of a desk. She didn't touch anything, didn't move anything. She only wanted to understand the boy who sat upstairs in silence, the boy who hid so much behind his cold exterior.
But the sound of the door slamming behind her made her jump.
"You!" Aiden's voice boomed, filled with rage and disbelief. She froze, heart hammering. He was already there, his wheelchair positioned like a barrier between her and the door. "How dare you enter this room?!"
"I...I didn't know…" Mia stammered, stepping back. "I just… I wanted to… I was only looking!"
"You were only looking?" he spat, his gray eyes dark, stormy, full of something raw and unyielding. "This room is private. Do you have any idea what you're doing? Do you understand what this means to me?!"
Mia tried to explain, her voice small, shaky. "I… I didn't mean to upset you! I just wanted to… understand…"
"Understand?" His voice rose, sharp as glass. "Do you think anyone can ever understand her? Mae is gone! Do you think she can be replaced? Do you think anyone can touch what she left behind?!"
Before Mia could respond, he wheeled swiftly, locking the door from the inside. "Stay here. Until I… decide what to do with you."
Panic rose like a tide. "Sir, please! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!"
The shouting did not stop her hands from trembling as she pressed them together, hoping to calm herself. Then, a firm but gentle voice broke through the tension:
"Aiden!"
Mrs. Lawrence appeared at the doorway, her silver hair gleaming in the sunlight, her eyes sharp with authority. "Release her. Now."
Aiden's hands tightened on the wheelchair's wheels. "She entered Mae's room! She...she doesn't understand!"
"She doesn't need to understand!" Mrs. Lawrence said firmly, stepping inside. "You've held onto her memory for years. That doesn't give you the right to punish someone who hasn't done anything wrong. She's here to help. Not to hurt. Not to steal. Let her go, Aiden."
For a tense moment, he stared at her, chest rising and falling as if he were fighting a battle within himself. Finally, with a heavy, reluctant motion, he unlocked the door.
Mia stumbled out, heart racing, tears brimming. "Thank you… Mrs. Lawrence," she whispered.
Mrs. Lawrence nodded once, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Careful, Mia. He's… fragile. The accident took more from him than his mobility. His heart still mourns Mae. Respect that, but don't fear him. You need patience more than anything."
Mia swallowed, her hands still trembling. She had seen a glimpse of the pain behind Aiden's walls, the memory he carried like a wound that refused to heal. And though she feared him, though his anger had terrified her, a small spark of understanding ignited inside her.
She would need to be careful, yes. But she would not turn away. Not now. Not when everything she had worked for her mother's life, her own survival depended on her courage and persistence.
And deep down, she knew she had just taken her first step toward breaking through the walls of a man who had been frozen in grief for far too long.