The morning light crept in through the curtains, faint and soft, but it still felt too harsh against my tired eyes. My body ached — a dull, throbbing pain that seemed to weigh down every part of me. But worst of all was the emptiness — that hollow, suffocating void that spread through my chest like poison.
Darius wasn't here. His side of the bed was cold, the sheets pulled back as if he'd left hours ago. I didn't know whether to feel relieved or angry — or both.
I swallowed hard, staring at the ceiling. For a moment, I felt nothing. Just... numb. But then it hit me — all of it — crashing down like a wave I couldn't outrun. My chest tightened, and I curled into myself, pressing my face into the pillow as silent sobs broke free. I cried until my throat hurt, until my head pounded and my eyes stung. But it didn't help. Nothing did.
Eventually, I forced myself out of bed, wincing as a sharp pain shot through my legs. I limped toward the washroom, each step slow and stiff. The cold tiles felt like ice under my feet, and when I reached the sink, I gripped the edges tightly to steady myself.
My reflection stared back at me — pale skin, swollen eyes, and a face that looked too tired to belong to me. I turned on the tap and splashed water on my face, letting the coolness ground me. I didn't bother wiping my tears away — they just kept coming, no matter how hard I tried to stop them.
Get it together, Ivanna... You can't keep breaking like this...
I didn't want to think. I didn't want to feel. I just needed something — anything — to focus on.
I stumbled back to the room and rang the bell for a maid.
"Star!" I barked the moment she appeared. She barely had time to curtsy before I started firing orders. "I need strawberries. The freshest you can find."
"Yes, my lady," she said softly, bowing her head before hurrying out.
But when she returned, the strawberries weren't perfect. Some were too small, some weren't as red as I wanted. It didn't matter — I barely even cared — but something inside me snapped anyway.
"I said perfect strawberries!" I yelled, my voice sharp enough to make her flinch. "Do you have ears, or do you just ignore what I say?"
"I... I'm sorry, my lady," Star stammered, her face pale.
"Sorry doesn't fix this," I shot back. "Go back and find better ones!"
She scurried away again, but when she returned with another batch, they still weren't good enough. The redness wasn't deep enough, the shape wasn't right — none of it mattered, but I kept pushing.
"Are you incapable of following simple instructions?" I snapped.
Star's face looked strained now — dark circles under her eyes, her hair slightly messy as if she hadn't even had time to fix herself that morning. She looked exhausted — like someone had beaten her down long before I started. But I didn't care.
"Go again," I ordered coldly. "And this time, do it right."
I sent her away six times. Six pointless errands for something I knew didn't even matter. Each time she returned, her steps were slower, her face a little more drained — but I kept pushing. I needed to push.
Because if I didn't, I'd break again. And this time, I wasn't sure I'd be able to stop myself.
I sat on the edge of the bed, my fists clenched tightly in my lap. My chest still heaved from all the shouting, and my face burned with frustration. Sending Star out again and again hadn't made me feel better — not really — but at least it had distracted me from everything else. From him. From what happened last night.
But the moment the door swung open and Darius strode in like he owned the air I breathed, my stomach twisted painfully.
"Leave," he ordered, his cold gaze landing on Star. His voice wasn't raised, but it didn't have to be. There was something about the way he spoke — calm yet sharp — that made people obey without hesitation.
Star didn't need to be told twice. She dipped her head and scurried out so fast I barely caught the flicker of relief on her face. I envied her — she could leave. She didn't have to stay trapped here with him.
The door shut behind her, and I let out a bitter scoff.
"Do you always storm in like you own the place?" I snapped, the anger bubbling inside me too strong to contain. "What is wrong with you?"
I pushed myself off the bed too fast, determined to stand my ground, but a sharp jolt of pain shot through me. My legs faltered, and I winced, grabbing the bedpost to steady myself.
Darius didn't flinch. Didn't move to help. He just stood there, arms crossed, watching me like I was pathetic.
"I don't care about your emotions," he said coldly. "I don't care who you boss around here, or how you feel about what happened. None of it matters to me." His gaze hardened. "As long as you do what I say."
I clenched my teeth, still gripping the bedpost as I tried to push through the pain. "In your dreams," I spat.
His expression didn't change. If anything, his smile deepened — that smug, cruel curve of his lips that made my blood boil.
"Then I guess you'd better get used to the pain," he said simply, like it was nothing.
My fingers dug deeper into the wood. My pride screamed at me to keep fighting, but my body was already exhausted. I could feel the ache in my muscles, the sting behind my eyes threatening to betray me.
"What do you want?" I bit out. "What's your problem now?"
"You're playing the piano tonight," he said like it was final — like my opinion didn't matter.
I blinked, disbelief washing over me. "Are you serious?"
"Dead serious," he replied.
"I can't," I shot back. "I don't have the strength — I'm in pain—"
"That's your problem," he cut in. "You've got until dinner to figure it out."
And with that, he turned and walked away like nothing else needed to be said — like my struggles, my pain, and everything I was feeling didn't even exist.
The door closed behind him, and I stood there, still gripping the bedpost, breathing hard.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. But more than anything, I wanted to stop feeli
ng so powerless — like no matter how hard I fought, he always found a way to win.