The next day arrived almost too quickly.
Sarima barely slept. Anxiety lingered behind her eyes like a weight she couldn't shake off, even as she lay still in her room, staring at the ceiling.
Morning light spilled through the curtains, too bright, too clean, filling the most isolated room in the manor with an uncomfortable calm. Everything was quiet, too quiet.
She sat up slowly, stretching as her body adjusted to the new day, then placed her feet on the cold floor. The chill seeped through her skin immediately, grounding her in reality.
A heavy sigh left her lips.
The silence of the room felt wrong. Not peaceful. Eerie.
She walked toward the glass balcony and looked down. The drop was long and endless. But even that thought wasn't comforting because she was certain that if she ever fell, the odds of being caught were still uncomfortably high.
A shiver ran through her.
She stepped back inside and drank a glass of water, her throat dry and tight. She didn't stop until her stomach ached slightly.
Her eyes drifted toward the dressing mirror.
The letter was still there.
White. Neat. Unassuming.
Too innocent for something that felt like poison wrapped in paper.
She stared at it for a long moment, as if it might change if she looked long enough. Then she reached for it and ripped it open.
She didn't understand how she had ended up here, entangled with someone she could only describe as dangerous, obsessive, and disturbingly gentle in the same breath. A contradiction that made her feel like she was losing control of her own mind.
Even more unsettling was how he moved in and out of her space without ever being caught.
She didn't trust her family enough to tell them. Not anymore. And as much as she considered Oliver Ellison, even involving him felt like putting someone else in danger.
This was something she was forced to face alone.
But even that certainty felt fragile.
Her eyes moved across the letter.
"You smiled today.
Not the polite one you give strangers. Not the one you wear like armor.
No… this one was real. And I almost hated it. Because it wasn't for me.
Do you know what it does to me—watching you give pieces of yourself away so carelessly?
Laughing with them. Standing too close. Letting them exist in spaces that should only belong to me.
You don't understand yet… but you will. Every glance you give someone else feels like betrayal you don't even realize you're committing. And I forgive you for it… because you don't know better. Not yet.
I'm patient. I watch. I learn. I wait.
And when the world disappoints you—because it will—I'll be right here. Always right here. Closer than you think.
Loving you in ways they never could.
So smile again tomorrow. But maybe… just maybe… think of me when you do.
Yours, whether you accept it or not, Afràtos."
The audacity of it made her jaw tighten.
He spoke as though she had no choice in any of it. As though her life was something already claimed.
A dangerous irritation settled in her chest.
And beneath it, something worse. Awareness. The uncomfortable realization that part of her was already reacting to him in ways she didn't want to admit.
She slammed the letter onto the table and stormed out of her room.
The moment she stepped outside, the silence broke into movement. Voices. Footsteps. Orders being shouted across halls.
Preparations for the birthday were already underway.
Gold, black, and burgundy decorations wrapped the mansion in heavy elegance. Servants moved quickly, adjusting arrangements, polishing surfaces, perfecting every detail.
"Miss Sarima, is there anything you'd like to add?" one of the planners asked politely.
"No," she replied flatly, glancing around before walking away.
She stepped out and called her friends.
Voices filled her phone immediately.
"Gurlll… how are youuu?" Lora greeted.
"I'm good," Sarima replied.
"You haven't taken your bath yet," Havi added immediately, her tone half scolding.
"Leave her alone," Somy cut in. "It's her dad's birthday today."
Sarima managed a faint smile. Her friends always sounded like a different world, lighter, easier, normal.
"Everyone's busy because of the birthday, guys," she said. "And I don't want you all to miss it."
"You know I'm too far away to attend," one of them said sadly.
"I know, my love. It's fine."
"My parents are attending the Washingtons' manor opening," Lora added.
"The Washingtons finally finalized their manor?" Sarima asked.
"Mm-hmm. I think a week ago."
She nodded slowly.
"Well, I guess I'm the only one coming, and I'm coming with my babe," Havi said.
Sarima laughed softly. "Be serious. Don't lie to me."
"I'm definitely coming."
"Well guess who I saw today guyssss" Havi continued as she was about to drop a hit.
"Girl whooo" Somy asked in eagerness.
"Abbyyyyy.....The Abbyyyyy" Havi replied gingerly.
"Wait, you mean the Abby, as in gossip Abby" Sarima asked, surprised she's not out of the states or something.
"Yesssss" Havi replied as she laughed.
Her friends continued talking and laughing.
The call ended with laughter.
For a brief moment, the weight on her chest eased as she felt herself get better from being too anxious.
After showering, she dressed simply and lay on her bed. She stared at the ceiling as if it gave her comfort and exhaustion pulled her under again.
Sleep came quickly.
Until....
A tap.
Her eyes snapped open.
The room was pitch black.
Not dim. Not shadowed.
Completely black.
She couldn't see her own hands.
Panic surged instantly as she pushed herself up, disoriented. The air felt heavier, thicker, like she had been dropped into something endless.
She moved forward slowly, hands extended.
Her fingers hit something.
A figure.
Her hand rose higher, trembling, until it brushed a face.
She jerked back but was caught instantly.
Arms wrapped around her, firm and unyielding, pulling her in.
Her breathing broke.
She struggled, panic overtaking her movements, but the grip only tightened.
Closer.
Too close.
Her vision blurred with tears.
"Please… please… please let me go," she whispered, shaking.
The scent hit her.
Spicy. Familiar. Impossible to forget.
"No… no, please leave me alone," she cried out louder, weaker now.
Her strength began to fade.
Warm breath brushed against her neck.
A pause.
A slow inhale.
Then his voice, low, certain, almost calm right against her skin:
"You don't want me to leave, Afràtos… and you know that."