It had been silent within both countries for two straight days.
Dilrik seemed to be honoring Subrind's dead or perhaps not. Perhaps both sides were simply regrouping and preparing for the next round of bloodshed; no one knew. All the people could say was that the silence was deep, just too deep to be real. It was the kind of quiet that comes before terror.
In an exclusive part of Dilrik, a gated area reserved for the country's highest officials, a silver Maybach rolled through tarred streets and drove into one of the villas that filled the landscape. It didn't stop immediately; it continued toward the rear of the property, where a rose-filled tea garden sat in graceful beauty against the night light.
A lanky figure dressed in a wine-colored bathrobe looked up from his magazine on catching the sound of the car. The Prime Minister, Sir George Willis, sat surrounded by the blossoms, a cup of tea cooling in front.
The door opened, and Rowan Crawford stepped out.
He was dressed impeccably in a tailored suit, cufflinks that caught the light, and overly polished shoes. It was a version of him that people had never seen: he looked almost unrecognizable without the white coat that usually defined him. The prime minister rose with a smile, arms opening in invitation. A gesture too familiar for someone who was supposed to be Rowan's boss.
"It's good to see you, son!"
He said, his voice filled with fatherly warmth.
Rowan's face, however, carried no such warmth. His expression was tight, but he accepted the hug anyway, stiff like a man performing a duty rather than embracing a parent.
Rowan was the prime minister's child, in fact his only true child, but born illegitimately. Since the moment he was born, the Prime minister loved him unconditionally and had great plans on how he was going to raise his gem, that was until he discovered Rowan had no real talent, so he didn't bother to legitimize him at all and only kept secretly pulling strings from the shadows to help Rowan until his current stage in life. Everything Rowan owned was not by his brilliance or power but because he had a father who occupied a powerful position, and he knew that so well. He never really loved his father, though; he believed if the prime minister truly loved him like he claimed, he would have legitimized him and told the whole world about him but that seems like it's never going to happen, so Rowan can only use him as the climbing steps he had come to be in his life.
They settled into their seats. The staff disappeared immediately; years of experience had taught them when to leave, leaving father and son alone among the roses.
"What troubles you son?" the prime minister asked on noticing Rowan's dark expression.
Rowan did not bother beating around the bush. "I am in love. There is someone I wish to marry."
The prime minister's eyes lit up with the genuine joy of a father witnessing his child about to reach another milestone. He leaned forward, suddenly eager. "That's wonderful news. Who is she?"
"But this person," Rowan continued, his voice hardening, "no matter how I try, never understands my feelings. She does not reciprocate them. And recently, I have realized that if I keep waiting, she may slip away entirely."
The prime minister's smile faded, replaced by seriousness.
"I have come to you," Rowan said, meeting his father's gaze directly, "to help me secure her."
The prime minister's curiosity was piqued. He had always believed his son was the ultimate prize: successful, handsome, and positioned for greatness. The idea that any woman would fail to see that was almost offensive.
"This person," Rowan said slowly, "is Doctor Rivers."
The warmth drained from the prime minister's face. His expression turned dark, brows furrowing.
"The same Doctor Rivers you asked me to help free from being the government's tool?" His voice had lost almost all its fatherly softness.
Rowan's lip curled up in disdain. "Saying it like that makes it seem as though you actually did it. But you and I both know she never stopped being the government's tool. You just made the leash shorter.That statement you released, it was for the public. Nothing more."
The prime minister's frown deepened. He did not like being challenged But this person was his only child.
"What do you want me to do?"
"Anything." Rowan said in annoyance. "Recede her supposed freedom. Start controlling her life again, fully. Who she sees. Who she marries. Arrange it so that she has to marry me. Just do whatever it takes."
The prime minister stared at his son "How am I supposed to accomplish that when I was the one who suggested her freedom in the first place?"
"You are the prime minister." Rowan said as he stood, brushing invisible dust from his sleeves. "I am confident you will figure something out."
He turned to leave.
"Eat first, at least," the prime minister called after him, a hint of pleading in his voice.
"Not interested. I have things to attend to."
Rowan walked to the car without looking back. The engine purred to life, and the silver Maybach rolled away, leaving the prime minister sitting alone, his tea had gone cold and his expression was unreadable.
For a long time, he did not move.
Then, slowly, he sighed deeply, a sighthat seemed to pull the strength from his bones. He rose and walked toward the main house, his thoughts running.
He should have noticed. His son's feelings had been so obvious. Dr. Rivers had been the only woman Rowan had ever asked him to help and he had missed it entirely.
He reached the doorway and paused, looking back at the empty garden.
What have I done? he wondered. And what am I about to do?
----
On the other side of the city, Sienna had no idea that her freedom, already more illusion than reality, was about to be stripped away entirely.
She stood in her kitchen, trying to make simple instant noodles.
Judging by the scene around her, one might have assumed she was attempting to prepare a five-star meal for visiting royalty. The counter was dusted with flour she had somehow managed to spill despite not using any. A pot of water boiled vigorously on the stove, threatening to bubble over. Noodles lay scattered across the floor like debris from war. A broken egg spilled from the edge of the counter where it had rolled off and met its untimely end.
It was a disaster.
Behind her, Ava stood with her arms crossed, her expression filled with utter disappointment.
"Doctor," Ava said flatly, "you added too much water."
Sienna paused mid-stir, the spoon hovering over the pot as she processed this information. How could that have happened? She had been so careful this time. She had measured. She had poured slowly. She had done everything the instructions said.
"Cooking is hard," Sienna announced, her voice more like a wail. "I don't want to cook anymore."
She dropped the spoon into the pot with a splash and took a step backward, ready to flee.
But Ava was faster. "If you cannot perfect something as simple as instant noodles," she said, blocking the doorway with her bulky body, "how do you expect to please your husband once you are married?"
Sienna replied immediately. "Then I don't want to get married."
The truth was, things like cooking, cleaning, and casual household chores had never been her problem, mostly because she had never considered them her problems at all. She saw no reason to learn. There were restaurants, there were delivery services, and there was Ava, who had been quietly managing the domestic chaos of Sienna's life for years without complaint.
But today was Ava's birthday. And for her wish, she had wanted to teach Sienna how to cook.
It had sounded so simple at the time.
Sienna had agreed immediately, blinded by a genuine desire to do something nice for the woman who had protected her for so long. But when it actually began, it became a catastrophe. Sienna didn't know how to light a stove. She didn't know how to wash vegetables properly. She didn't know the difference between chopping and dicing, and her attempts at both had produced uneven, huge chunks that Ava had quietly swept into the trash.
Her situation was helpless.
"Come on, Doctor." Ava's voice softened, just a little. "You know you will have to get married eventually. What will happen if you marry a man with a big appetite? Someone like Director Rowan, for instance?"
Sienna's face creased immediately, a reflexive expression of distaste she couldn't quite hide. "I don't plan to get married. And certainly not to the Director."
"But that man genuinely loves you." Ava's tone carried a note of gentle pleading. She had watched Rowan orbit Sienna for years and had seen the way he looked at her mistress so longingly. She hoped naively that Sienna might one day look back.
"I don't." Sienna shook her head, firm and unyielding. "No matter how I try, I can't feel that way about him. It seems... cringe, don't you think?"
Ava sighed. "Doctor, you are truly one helpless person."
"I know." Sienna slipped past Ava immediately. "But I can't help that either. See ya!"
She dashed off toward the library, leaving Ava alone in the wreckage of the kitchen.
Ava stood there for a long moment, surveying the flour-dusted counters, the egg-smeared floor, the pot of noodles that had been ruined beyond salvation. Then she shook her head and reached for the phone in her pocket. She had been audio recording the whole situation, she saved it and sent it to Rowan with a sad emoji to accompany it.
That done she finally picked a rag and started cleaning. One day, she thought, I would leave eventually, and that woman is going to need someone to take care of her.