Silent Pain, Unspoken Truths

*At the Dining Table*

“What are you doing here?” Grayson asked Leah without even looking at her

“Gray, what do you mean by that?” Leah began to respond, but he cut her off.

“Don’t call me Gray again. My name is Grayson,” he said sharply before repeating his question.

“Dexter and the rest of our friends wanted to come over for lunch today, so I decided to come early and prepare it for them,” Leah explained, lowering her head and biting her lip, as if on the verge of tears.

“I have chefs at home. What use is your presence to me?” Grayson asked, clearly annoyed.

“I’m sorry,” Leah replied, trying to sound pitiful, but Grayson wasn’t convinced. He knew exactly what Leah was thinking. They had been childhood friends for a long time, and he was well aware that she had feelings for him. Leah did her best to make everyone believe that he felt the same way about her. The only reason she came to his house so early was to make sure his friends misunderstood and assumed she had spent the night there.

"Don’t ever come to my house again if you have nothing to do here," Grayson said to her bluntly, without mincing words.

"Okay," she replied, but deep down she knew she wouldn’t stop pestering him.

A few minutes later, Butler Harry and the other servants entered the dining room carrying breakfast.

"Young Master, Miss Leah, breakfast is ready," Butler Harry announced as he directed the servants to serve the meal.

Grayson raised his head and looked toward the group of servants but didn’t see Emma.

"Where is my coffee?" Grayson asked, a frown forming on his face.

"Young Master, Emma suffered some injuries when she fell down the stairs, so she’s currently applying ointment. But she should be here soon..."

Butler Harry was still speaking when he noticed Emma approaching the dining room with the coffee in hand, walking very slowly.

"Could you walk faster? The Young Master is waiting," Butler Harry reprimanded.

"Sorry," Emma said, but Butler Harry only looked at her with annoyance.

Emma immediately quickened her pace, though the pain she felt made her walk awkwardly.

"Young Master, your coffee," Emma said to Grayson, bowing her head. She watched as Grayson took the cup from her hand and drank it before handing it back. She made to turn and head to the kitchen.

"Where are you going?" Grayson asked calmly, though the anger in his voice was unmistakable. Emma took a deep breath before answering.

"I had some minor injuries when I fell down the stairs, and I wasn’t finished applying ointment before I came to serve your coffee."

"Since the injuries are minor, what use is there in applying ointments? When did it become your place to dictate anything in this house?" Grayson asked, glaring at her. His meaning was clear: "Know your place."

"I’m sorry," Emma whispered before quietly standing with the other servants at the table.

Half an hour later, breakfast was finished. Some servants cleared the table while Grayson stood and went to the living room, with Leah quickly following him. Emma was about to head to the kitchen with the servants when someone patted her on the back.

"Emma, the Young Master said you should remain standing here until after lunch,"  The servant who had tapped her on the back spoke softly.

Emma paused and looked at the servant. Her eyes were tired and weak, and the servant felt pity for her but couldn’t do anything to help. After a moment, Emma slowly replied,  

“Okay.”

By noon, Grayson’s friends had already arrived but were still in the living room enjoying themselves. After a while, one of Grayson’s friends, Dexter, called a servant and asked about Emma. That was when he was informed she had been told by Grayson to stand in the dining area. Dexter nodded to show he understood, then waved his hand to dismiss the servant. He excused himself, saying he was going to the bathroom but quietly headed to the dining room instead. His movements went unnoticed by everyone except Grayson, who said nothing.

---

In the dining area, Emma was still standing, sweat dripping from her face as she endured the pain in her body. Suddenly, she heard footsteps. She turned to look at the person who entered but quickly shifted her gaze away.

“Emma, what’s wrong? Why does your face look so pale?” Dexter asked immediately, concern evident in his voice. But Emma didn’t answer; she just stood there, silent and still.

Dexter grew frustrated and quickly rushed toward her, grabbing her arm.  

“Why aren’t you answering?” he asked urgently.

“Ouch… let me go, Dexter. It hurts — it hurts a lot,” she pleaded. Dexter’s anxiety immediately spiked.

“Where does it hurt?” Dexter asked as he tried to lift the corner of her shirt to check the injury. But before he could fully lift it, the atmosphere in the kitchen suddenly turned cold. Then, a loud voice cut through the tension.

“What are the both of you doing?”