Chapter Eight

Maya didn’t leave that evening.

She stayed through dinner—uninvited, unbothered, and completely comfortable in a house that clearly wasn’t used to people like her.

Elara hadn’t realized how much she needed it until now.

Laughter.

Ease.

Someone who didn’t make her feel like a mistake.

They were in the living room when Aaron walked in.

This time, he didn’t walk past.

He stopped.

His gaze moved slowly from Elara… to Maya.

Cold. Assessing.

Maya met it head-on.

“Good,” she said. “You’re here.”

Elara’s stomach tightened.

“Maya…”

“No,” Maya said, standing. “We need to talk.”

Aaron’s expression didn’t shift.

“I don’t recall asking for a conversation.”

Maya smiled faintly.

“Good thing I don’t need permission.”

The tension snapped into place instantly.

After a brief pause, Aaron turned and walked toward the hallway.

Maya followed.

⸻

Elara stood frozen.

Her heart pounded.

She didn’t need to hear the conversation to know what it was about.

⸻

“I don’t like the way you treat her.”

Maya didn’t waste time.

Aaron remained still.

“That’s not your concern.”

“It is when she’s my friend.”

A pause.

“And what exactly do you think I’m doing?” he asked calmly.

Maya let out a short laugh.

“You ignore her. You disrespect her. You humiliate her, you go around galivanting with that ex of yours even when you know you are married!”

Silence.

“You even brought her into the house on your wedding night, the same house you share with your wife. Now even if you were forced into this marriage you should also understand that she didn't have a choice either. It is not like she asked to be tied down to a man like you.” she added.

Aaron’s jaw tightened slightly.

Maya stepped closer.

“She heard you that night. Every single sound she heard it”

That landed.

But he said nothing.

“This marriage may be an arrangement,” Maya continued, her voice sharper now, “but that doesn’t give you the right to treat her like she’s beneath you.”

Aaron’s eyes darkened.

“You’re overstepping.”

“And you’re failing as a husband.”

That hit harder.

“She didn’t ask for this,” Maya said. “And she doesn’t deserve what you’re doing to her.”

A long pause.

Then, quieter—

“She’s already spent her life dealing with people who think she’s not enough.”

Aaron’s expression flickered—briefly.

Then went cold again.

Maya stepped back.

“I’m leaving tonight,” she said.

“But I’ll be back.”

Her gaze held his.

“And if she’s still like this when I do…”

She didn’t finish.

She didn’t need to.

She turned and walked away.

⸻

“What happened?” Elara asked immediately.

Maya grabbed her bag.

“I said what needed to be said.”

Elara looked worried.

“Maya…”

Maya softened.

“Hey.”

She squeezed Elara’s hand.

“You’re stronger than you think.”

Elara nodded faintly.

“Call me, okay?”

“I will.”

Maya leaned closer, her voice low.

“Don’t let him make you feel small.”

Then she left.

⸻

The silence returned almost instantly.

Heavy.

Uncomfortable.

Elara barely had time to breathe before Aaron walked back in.

Something about him had changed.

Not louder.

Not angrier.

Just… colder.

“Elara.”

She turned slowly.

“Yes?”

A pause.

Then—

“Don’t ever let your friend speak to me like that again.”

Her chest tightened.

“She was just—”

“I don’t care,” he cut in.

“This is my house.”

Elara swallowed.

“She was defending me.”

Aaron let out a quiet, sharp laugh.

“Defending you?”

He stepped closer.

Too close.

“You don’t need defending,” he said.

His gaze dropped briefly—over her body.

Then back to her face.

“You need awareness.”

Elara’s breath caught.

“Awareness?” she repeated softly.

“Yes.”

His voice was calm.

Cruel in its precision.

“Of how you look. Of where you are. Of who you’re standing next to.”

The words hit immediately.

Hard.

Elara felt her throat tighten.

“I didn’t—”

“You walk into rooms,” Aaron continued, “and expect people not to react.”

His eyes swept over her again.

Slow.

Judging.

“Do you have any idea what people see?”

Elara’s vision blurred slightly.

Her fingers clenched at her sides.

“I hear what people say,” she whispered.

“Clearly not enough,” he replied.

Silence.

Then—

“You don’t fit into this world, Elara.”

The words were quiet.

But devastating.

“You don’t look like the woman people expect beside me.”

Her chest felt like it was collapsing inward.

“And instead of understanding that,” he continued, “you let your friend come into my house and act like you’re the one being wronged.”

A tear slipped down before she could stop it.

Aaron saw it.

Paused.

For a fraction of a second—

Something shifted in his expression.

But it hardened just as quickly.

“This marriage exists because of my grandfather,” he said flatly.

“Not because of you.”

Elara nodded quickly, her voice breaking.

“I know.”

“Then act like it.”

The final words came sharper.

Colder.

“If you can’t handle the attention… the judgment…”

A pause.

Then the worst part.

“…then maybe you should have thought about that before agreeing to step into a life that was never built for someone like you.”

That was it.

Elara turned away immediately.

Tears fell freely now.

Silent.

Uncontrollable.

Aaron stood there for a second longer.

Watching.

Something flickered in his eyes again.

Regret.

Conflict.

But instead of speaking—

He turned.

And walked away.

⸻

The front door slammed.

The sound echoed through the mansion.

Elara stood alone in the middle of the room.

Crying quietly.

Trying to stay quiet even now.

As if someone might hear.

As if she were still trying not to take up too much space.

⸻

Aaron didn’t come back that night.

⸻

Or the next morning.

⸻

And for the first time…

Elara didn’t just feel hurt.

She felt something deeper.

Something heavier.

Something that made her wonder—

Not if she could survive this marriage…

But if she even wanted to.