Ch-6

•~•Solane’s POV

I woke up feeling…off.

My head was heavy, my limbs sluggish, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure why.

Then, instinctively, I shifted, reaching for the warmth that should have been beside me—only to feel nothing but the cold sheets.

Empty.

The haze in my mind cleared instantly.

Last night.

My breath hitched as the memory struck me like a jolt of electricity. I saw him.

Standing.

I bolted upright, scanning the suite, my pulse drumming in my ears. The wheelchair wasn’t beside the bed.

My gaze darted toward the open balcony doors—nothing. The bathroom door? Open.

He wasn’t here.

I ran a shaky hand through my hair. My thoughts spiraled.

He can fucking walk!

He stood there on the balcony, frozen, mirroring my shock as he stared right back at me.

Then why? Why the hell was he faking it? Was this just another part of his and his mother’s deceit?

Before I could spiral further, the door suddenly opened, and I snapped my head up.

Nathaniel wheeled himself in with a bright smile, the very image of ease and warmth. “Good morning,” he greeted smoothly. “You look… disturbed. Is everything alright?”

I stared at him. My stomach twisted as I tried to process what I was seeing.

Was he… was he trying to gaslight me right now?

A scoff left my lips before I could stop it. I leaned back against the headboard, folding my arms. “Wow. Nathaniel Grant, you sure are cunning, aren’t you?”

His brows lifted in what seemed like genuine confusion. “Cunning?”

I studied him closely for a moment before speaking. My eyes narrowed. "Why are you still sitting in that wheelchair?"

Nathaniel blinked. “Because I can’t walk?” His tone was patient, like he was explaining something obvious.

"Except you can. So don’t play dumb with me." My voice came out sharper than I intended. "And answer the question... Why are you still sitting in that wheelchair after what happened last night?"

Nathaniel tilted his head, letting out a short, almost nervous chuckle. "I don’t understand, Solane… What happened last night?"

My fingers curled into my palm. "I caught you... You were standing on the balcony."

"I was standing?" he repeated, his brows furrowing.

"Yes," I shot back, irritation bubbling under my skin. "You were standing on the balcony."

He nodded slowly, like he was trying to piece it together. "I see." Then, deadpan, he asked, "And then what happened?"

I faltered. "And then..."

He kept his expression neutral, waiting.

"And then," I repeated, my voice losing strength.

But… What happened after that?

I frowned. My mind reached for the next memory, but there was nothing. Just a gap. Like something had been wiped clean.

My fingers pressed against my temple. “I saw you,” I muttered. “We made eye contact. And I… I don’t…”

“You don’t remember?” Nathaniel finished for me, his voice smooth as silk.

My gaze snapped to his.

He was too calm. Too composed.

He had gotten much better at this.

The Nathaniel I once knew had a talent for twisting the truth, but this? This was on another level.

I let out a sharp breath, running a hand down my face. "Look, Nathaniel, if you can walk and you’re keeping it a secret, that’s your choice. But I’m your wife now—and you’re the one who said no secrets.”

The moment I said it, his expression changed.

Something flickered in his eyes—something sharp, unreadable. Then, his lips curved into a humorless smile.

“I don’t have any secrets, Solane,” he cut in, his tone bordering on offense. “And I can’t walk.”

My fists clenched. “Then who did I see on the balcony?”

Nathaniel exhaled, shrugging his shoulders. “You probably had a dream.”

I let out a sharp scoff. “A dream?”

“It makes sense, doesn’t it?” he said smoothly. “You must have felt so miserable about being married to a cripple that your mind conjured up a dream where I wasn’t.”

I sucked in a sharp breath, my nails pressing into my palms.

“That’s probably why you’re struggling to tell the difference between dream and reality,” he added, his tone casual—but beneath it, there was something else—Anger.

A tense silence settled between us.

Then, just as I was about to say something—anything—he spoke first. His voice had turned colder, more distant.

“Get dressed.”

I frowned at the sudden shift in conversation. “What?”

“My mother booked a private breakfast for us at a restaurant in town.” He turned his wheelchair around, already heading for the door.

But then, he stopped.

Without looking back, he said, “Just so you know, I wasn’t exactly thrilled about this marriage.”

“I never thought any woman would be pleased with a cripple for a husband. But last night, I told myself not to think that way. I thought maybe I should give this a chance.”

Something tightened in my chest at his words. There was pain in them—real, raw—and I hated that it bothered me.

Then, he turned his head slightly, just enough for me to see the side of his face.

“But you just proved me right. Being Nathaniel Grant isn’t enough for you, is it?” His voice was quiet, cutting. “If you want out, it’s not too late. I’d rather end this now than have you standing beside me, wishing for something I’ll never be.”

Then he rolled away, leaving me sitting on the bed—speechless.

I let out a shaky breath, my chest tightening with something uncomfortably close to guilt.

Had I gone too far?

Maybe I had dreamed it. Maybe my mind was playing tricks on me. But why would I even have such a dream?

Unless…

Unless I was right, and Nathaniel was gaslighting me.

I groaned, running my hands through my hair.

I shouldn’t have confronted him like that. I should have played it smart—watched him, tested him, confirmed if what I saw was real.

Stupid. That was a stupid move.

Now, I’d just given him the upper hand.

I needed to regain control.

And more than that—

I needed to know the truth.

Could Nathaniel Grant really not walk, or was he just playing a game?