(Amelia Carter's POV)
The nights were the hardest while daytime was easier to manage.
There were things to observe, rooms to explore, small distractions that kept Amelia's thoughts from settling too deeply.
But at night, everything slowed.
Everything became quiet.
And in that quiet, she became aware of him.
The room was dimly lit, soft shadows stretching across the walls as the faint glow from the city filtered through the glass windows.
The air carried a subtle scent– clean, faintly masculine, something she had begun to associate with him without realizing it.
Amelia stood near the window, her arms loosely folded, her gaze fixed on the lights outside.
She could feel him behind her.
Not touching.
Not close enough to make her uncomfortable but present.
Always present.
It had been like this for days.
He never forced conversation, never imposed, never crossed the space between them unless she allowed it.
And yet, somehow, his restraint made everything feel more intense.
Amelia turned slightly, just enough to see him.
Ethan stood a few steps away, his sleeves rolled back slightly, his posture relaxed but controlled.
His attention was on her, steady and quiet, as though he had been watching her for longer than she realized.
"You don't sleep much," she said.
His gaze didn't shift.
"Neither do you."
Amelia looked away again.
"That's different."
"How?"
She hesitated.
Because she didn't have an answer.
Later that night, the silence settled again.
Amelia lay on one side of the bed, her back to him, her eyes open despite the darkness.
The sheets were cool against her skin, the faint sound of his breathing behind her steady and calm.
She was aware of every small detail.
The shift of fabric when he moved.
The warmth that existed, even without contact.
The space between them.
It wasn't large.
But it felt deliberate.
Chosen.
Amelia exhaled slowly, closing her eyes briefly before opening them again.
"Do you always keep your distance like this?" she asked quietly.
For a moment, there was no response.
Then–
"Yes."
His voice was low, steady in the dark.
Amelia turned slightly, just enough to see the outline of him beside her.
"Why?"
A pause.
Not long.
But enough.
"Because you're not comfortable yet," he said.
The answer settled over her more softly than she expected.
Amelia watched him in the dim light, her expression thoughtful.
"And if I was?" she asked.
Ethan did not respond immediately.
When he did, his voice was quieter.
"Then it would be different."
Something in the way he said it made her chest tighten slightly.
Not fear.
Not uncertainty.
Something else.
Something unfamiliar.
Amelia shifted slightly, turning more toward him now.
"You act like you're waiting," she said.
"I am."
"For what?"
"For you."
The simplicity of the answer caught her off guard.
Amelia held his gaze in the dim light, trying to understand him, trying to place him somewhere familiar in her thoughts.
But there was nothing familiar about him.
And yet–
She did not feel the need to pull away. The air felt warmer and closer even though the distance between them had not changed.
Ethan's gaze remained steady, but there was something deeper in it now, something restrained, something carefully held back.
Amelia noticed it.
The way his hand shifted slightly against the sheet.
The way his breathing changed, just barely.
He wasn't unaffected, he was just choosing to be and that realization lingered.
"You could have done things differently," she said softly.
"How?"
"You could have forced this, just like the marriage."
Ethan's expression did not change.
"But I didn't and I won't."
Silence followed.
"I want you to choose it." Ethan said.
The words settled deeply.
More than she expected.
Amelia's gaze dropped briefly before returning to his.
"And if I don't?" she asked.
Ethan did not look away.
"You will."
There was no arrogance in his tone.
Just quiet certainty and confidence in his charm.
The moment stretched.
Neither of them moved.
Neither of them closed the distance.
But something had shifted subtly.
Amelia turned onto her back slowly, staring up at the ceiling.
Her thoughts were quieter now.
And for the first time since the marriage, the space beside her no longer felt unfamiliar– it felt safe and like home.