Chapter 49 - A Silent Marriage

Ayra arrived at the dining room just as the clock struck noon. The grand double doors swung open soundlessly as a staff member ushered her in. For a fleeting moment, she expected to see Lucian already seated, waiting for her. But the room was empty.

The long mahogany dining table stretched before her, polished to a gleam under the sunlight pouring in through the tall windows.

The silverware had been meticulously arranged, the delicate china set out with precision, and the scent of an exquisite meal drifted through the air. Yet, the chair at the head of the table—the one she assumed was Lucian’s—remained vacant.

She hesitated at the entrance. 

“Lucian isn’t here?” she finally asked, glancing at the nearest servant, a middle-aged man in a crisp black suit.

There was an awkward pause before he bowed slightly. “Mr. Lucian will not be taking lunch today.”

Her fingers curled slightly, the words sinking in deeper than they should have. He hadn’t mentioned anything about skipping lunch. Not that they had spoken much since the wedding, but after everything—the court ceremony, the silent car ride, the overwhelming arrival at this house—she had expected… something.

Something more than silence.

She blinked, suppressing the tightening in her chest, and forced a small nod and moved toward the table. The butler pulled out a chair for her, but the moment she sat, she realized just how absurdly large the table was. It could easily seat twenty people, yet here she was, alone at the very end, a single plate in front of her while the rest of the table stretched into emptiness.

She tried not to think about it as the staff poured her a drink. The meal was beautifully prepared—seared salmon, a medley of roasted vegetables, freshly baked bread—but when she picked up her fork, the food tasted like nothing.

This was not what she wanted. She had not expected love - far from it - but her talks with Lucian had not prepared her for hostility either. There were talks to be had between the both of them and it got under her skin that he was not here for them. 

She wasn’t particularly hungry, but she ate anyway, if only to distract herself. Every sound felt amplified in the stillness—the clink of her fork against the porcelain, the muffled steps of the staff as they moved around the room, the occasional creak of the chandelier swaying lightly above her.

She had never dined alone like this before. Even in her father’s house, where the atmosphere had often been cold, there had always been people around—Lisbeth, her father’s business partners, even just the background noise of staff moving about. But here, the silence was oppressive, pressing against her like a weight she couldn't shake off.

She pushed the food around on her plate, her appetite waning. Was this how it was going to be?

Had she misunderstood Lucian all along? Before the wedding, there had been moments—small, fleeting ones—where he had seemed almost kind. Not warm, not exactly... gentle, but considerate in ways she hadn’t expected. 

He had sent her messages late at night, teasing her in a way that had made her forget her circumstances, even if just for a little while. He had come to pick her up himself that morning, tucked her under a blanket when she dozed off in the car.

But now?

Now, he had vanished from her world entirely.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, placed her fork down, and pushed the plate away.

He was not her Knight, she reminded herself. But then again, she mocked herself internally, would her Knight even come? Did he remember her?

“I’m done,” she murmured, not waiting for a response as she stood up and left. Hopefully dinner would give them the opportunity to talk. 

It did not. 

Ayra spent the rest of the afternoon wandering through the vast estate, trying to familiarize herself with the house. The rooms were extravagant, designed with immaculate detail, but they all felt empty. She had spoken to only a handful of staff since she arrived, and none of them spoke more than was necessary.

They were wary and awkward around her. Not exactly the warm welcome she'd envisioned. 

It wasn’t until the sky had darkened, the lights in the hall flickering to life, that she realized it was dinnertime.

She made her way to the dining room again, heart heavier than before but still holding onto the hope that Lucian would be there this time.

But the moment she stepped in, she already knew the answer.

The table was set, just like before. The same warm glow of the chandelier above, the same perfect arrangement of dishes laid out in preparation for a meal that wouldn’t be shared.

Lucian was nowhere to be found.

Ayra clenched her fists, the sharp sting of disappointment and frustration biting deeper than she wanted to admit. Was he avoiding her?

She had expected some indifference from him, maybe even a bit of coldness, but she hadn’t thought he would go as far as completely removing himself from her presence.

She sat at the table anyway, because what else was she supposed to do?

The staff moved carefully around her, exchanging glances between themselves as if unsure whether to address her. They knew. They knew that she was being ignored, that her 'husband' was refusing to acknowledge her existence. 

Emotionally speaking, his actions did not really do more than frustrate her but with the servants present, she was filled with a mix of humiliation and frustration. 

The servant from earlier, the one who had informed her of Lucian’s absence at lunch, hesitated before stepping forward. “Would you like us to serve the meal now, ma’am?”

Ma’am.

She almost scoffed at the formality.

“No,” she said quietly. “I’m not really hungry.”

She picked up a spoon anyway, stirring the bowl of soup in front of her as if that would somehow make the situation feel less lonely. But she didn’t take a bite.

After a few moments, she set the spoon down, the metallic clang echoing sharply in the quiet.

The room was too big. Too empty.

She had never thought about how much she hated silence until now.

With a quiet sigh, she pushed her chair back and stood. The staff didn’t stop her. They only bowed their heads slightly as she walked past, not saying a word.

She barely made it down the hall before the emotions she had been keeping at bay started to rise.

Disappointment. Frustration. A bitter kind of sadness she didn’t want to name.

Fuck Lucian. 

She had known this marriage wouldn’t be built on love or warmth. She had never expected Lucian to be affectionate or welcoming. But to be outright ignored—to be treated like she didn’t exist—was something else entirely.

It was one thing to prepare herself for a cold marriage.

It was another to realize she had married a ghost.

And as she walked back to her empty bedroom, past the unfamiliar hallways and the distant whispers of servants, one thought lodged itself in her mind.

Fuck Lucian. Really. 

She pulled the covers over herself, unaware of the call that would rouse her some hours later.