THE WOMAN HE WANTED

EVELYN'S POV

The masquerade ball was beautiful, but I couldn't bring myself to enjoy it…

I would be leaving this family as soon as this meeting was over.. 

Everywhere I looked, couples danced beneath the golden chandeliers, their masks glittering under the lights. Soft music filled the ballroom, mingling with laughter and the clinking of glasses. Everyone seemed to have someone they wanted to be with.

And I had Adrian.

At least, that was what it looked like to everyone else.

His hand rested against my waist as we moved across the dance floor. My fingers lay against his shoulder, and I tried not to think too much about how close we were. His cologne surrounded me, familiar and intoxicating, making it difficult to remember that this was only a dance.

Just a dance.

"You're unusually quiet tonight," Adrian murmured.

I lifted my eyes to his masked face. "Am I?"

"You've barely said anything since we arrived."

"I'm just tired."

He tilted his head slightly, studying me through the eyeholes of his mask. "You could have told me. We would have stayed home."

My heart tightened.

He could be so thoughtful without realizing what his smallest gestures did to me. He could make me feel special for a few seconds, then return to his usual life as though nothing had happened.

"I'm fine, Adrian."

He didn't look convinced, but before he could question me further, the music changed. He drew me a little closer, and my breath caught.

For one foolish moment, I imagined what it would be like if I were the woman he truly wanted.

Would he look at her like this?

Would he hold her as carefully?

Would he notice when she was unhappy and insist on knowing why?

I hated myself for wondering.

The song ended, and Adrian released me.

"Wait here," he said. "I'm getting a drink."

I nodded, watching him disappear into the crowd.

I should have stayed where I was. I should have enjoyed the rare evening without asking for anything more than he was willing to give.

Instead, I found myself looking for him every few seconds.

When he finally returned, he was holding a glass. I couldn't see what was inside it beneath the dim lights.

"Where have you been?" I asked.

"Getting you a drink too, but I wasn't sure what you'd want."

"I don't need anything."

"Then more for me."

He gave me a faint smile before lifting the glass to his lips.

I watched him take a few sips. Someone called his name from behind us, and he turned to respond. A man in a silver mask approached him, speaking loudly over the music. I couldn't hear their conversation, so I stepped aside to let them talk.

A few minutes later, Adrian returned to me.

Something was wrong.

At first, it was subtle. He blinked several times, as though the lights were suddenly too bright. Then he pressed his fingers against his forehead.

"Adrian?"

"I'm fine."

His words came out too quickly.

He took another step, but his balance faltered. I immediately caught his arm.

"Hey! What's wrong?"

He looked at me, his expression strangely unfocused.

"I don't know." He swallowed hard. "I feel…"

He didn't finish.

His fingers closed around my wrist as he leaned towards me, his weight suddenly heavier than before.

"Adrian, you're frightening me."

He shook his head, attempting to straighten himself. It didn't work. His eyes struggled to focus on my face, and his breathing became uneven.

"We need to get you somewhere quiet."

"No." He tightened his grip. "I need her."

My heart stopped.

"Who?"

He barely seemed to hear me.

"Where is she?" he muttered, looking around the ballroom. "Where's—"

He called a woman's name.

Not mine.

Of course it wasn't mine.

Even in his confusion, when he could barely stand on his own, Adrian was searching for someone else.

I forced myself to swallow the ache rising in my throat.

"Come on," I whispered, slipping his arm over my shoulders. "I'll take you upstairs."

He resisted for a moment, turning his head towards the ballroom entrance as though he expected someone to appear. Then his knees weakened, and he clutched my hand.

"Please," he breathed. "Help me."

The desperation in his voice frightened me more than his unsteady movements.

"I will. Just hold on to me."

I guided him away from the crowd, struggling beneath his weight. A few guests glanced in our direction, but nobody stopped us. I kept my head lowered, praying that no one would recognize how badly he was doing.

By the time we reached the staircase, my heart was pounding.

"Adrian, can you walk?"

He nodded, then immediately stumbled.

I caught him again.

"Careful!"

He turned towards me, his eyes glassy behind his mask.

"Please don't leave me."

The words struck somewhere deep inside me.

I had spent years wishing he would say something like that. I had imagined him reaching for me, choosing me, telling me that I mattered to him more than anyone else.

But not like this.

Not when he couldn't even look at me and know who I was.

"I'm not leaving," I whispered.

I helped him up the stairs and down the corridor towards his room. Every few steps, he would stop and mutter the same woman's name. Sometimes he asked where she was. Other times, he simply repeated it beneath his breath, as though saying it enough times would make her appear.

Each time, something inside me broke a little further.

When we reached his door, I struggled to turn the handle while keeping him upright. He leaned heavily against the wall, his head bowed.

"Almost there," I told him.

He suddenly caught my hand.

"Don't go."

I looked at him.

His fingers were trembling around mine.

"Adrian, I'm only trying to get you inside."

"Please." His voice cracked. "I need you."

Tears burned behind my eyes.

How cruel could life be?

I was standing right in front of him. I was the one holding him up, the one helping him when he could barely manage on his own. Yet he was still calling for another woman.

I opened the door and guided him towards the bed. He dropped onto the mattress, immediately pressing a hand against his forehead.

I knelt in front of him.

"Adrian, look at me. Can you tell me what you drank?"

He shook his head.

"I don't know."

"Did someone give you something?"

"I don't know," he repeated, sounding frustrated. "Where is she?"

There it was again.

That name.

I lowered my gaze, unable to bear the sight of him searching for someone who wasn't there.

"She's not here, Adrian."

He reached for my hand again.

"Please…"

I looked at his fingers wrapped around mine.

For years, I had imagined what it would feel like to have him hold my hand because he wanted me. I had dreamed of being the woman he searched for in a crowded room, the one he couldn't bear to lose.

Instead, I had become the person he mistook for a lifeline while he waited for somebody else.

I gently freed my hand.

"I need to get someone to help you."

But when I tried to stand, he caught my wrist again.

"Don't leave me alone."

My resolve weakened.

I knew I should call for help immediately. Whatever had happened to him was serious, and he needed someone who could make sure he was safe. Yet I hesitated, overwhelmed by the sight of the boy I had loved for so long sitting helplessly before me.

He lifted his face.

For one brief second, his eyes settled on mine.

My breath caught.

Was he finally seeing me?

"Please," he whispered.

Then he said her name again.

I pulled my hand away.

That was when I noticed the mask lying on the bedside table. It was black and decorated with delicate silver patterns, different from mine. Someone must have left it there earlier.

I stared at it for a long time.

An ugly thought crept into my mind.

What if, just for a moment, I could pretend to be the woman he wanted?

What if I could stand before him without being Evelyn, the timid girl he had spent years protecting? What if he could look at me without seeing his stepsister?

I knew it was foolish.

I knew it wouldn't change anything.

Tomorrow, I would still be Evelyn. I would still be the girl who loved him in silence, and he would still be the man who wanted someone else.

And soon, I would be leaving his home.

The thought hurt more than I wanted to admit.

I picked up the mask, my fingers shaking around its edges.

"Just one moment," I whispered to myself.

I wasn't going to pretend his condition made this right. He was too disoriented to understand what was happening, and I couldn't ask him to choose me when he wasn't fully aware of where he was.

But my feelings had become a storm I no longer knew how to control.

I put on the mask.

Then I moved closer to the bed.

"Adrian?"

He turned towards my voice.

His gaze travelled over my face, searching for something familiar. I couldn't tell whether he recognized anything at all.

He reached out again.

And my heart, foolish and desperate, answered before my good sense could stop it.

I leaned down and kissed him.

For one brief, reckless moment, I let myself touch the lips I had spent years dreaming about.

Then I pulled away, my breath trembling.

Adrian's eyes remained half-closed. He didn't seem to understand who had kissed him, or even what had happened.

I stared at him, tears gathering beneath my mask.

I had wanted this for so long.

But now that it had happened, it felt nothing like the dream I had carried in my heart.

“Sienna Crowley." 

He turned his face towards the pillow and murmured the other woman's name again…my heart broke in several pieces.

“Sienna…. I miss you.”