Chapter 6: The man who never waited.

Lucien Drax had never been good at waiting.

Not for meetings.

Not for people.

Not for answers.

And definitely not for Alina Virelle.

Yet for the third night in a row, he found himself sitting inside a parked car across from her building, staring up at lit windows that never opened for him.

The city lights reflected against the windshield.

Cold.

Distant.

Just like her.

His assistant sat quietly in the front seat, careful not to speak unless necessary.

“Sir… should we return?”

Lucien didn’t answer immediately.

His gaze remained fixed on the building entrance.

“She worked late again?” he asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“And yesterday?”

“The same.”

Silence.

Lucien leaned back slowly.

“She used to sleep before eleven.”

The assistant froze slightly, surprised by the random observation.

Lucien didn’t seem to notice he had said it out loud.

Or maybe he did.

But didn’t care.

Another light in the building turned off.

Then another.

People began leaving one after another.

But not her.

Lucien’s jaw tightened faintly.

“She’s avoiding me.”

The assistant hesitated.

“Sir… Miss Virelle may simply be busy.”

Lucien finally looked away from the building.

“No.”

His voice stayed low.

“She’s avoiding me on purpose.”

And somehow

that bothered him more than anger would have.

Upstairs, Alina finally closed the last file on her desk.

The office was quiet now.

Most employees had already gone home hours ago.

Only the soft glow from the city remained beyond the glass windows.

Her assistant stepped inside carefully.

“Miss Virelle… your car is ready.”

Alina nodded once.

Then the assistant hesitated.

“There’s something else.”

She looked up calmly.

“Mr. Drax is downstairs again.”

Silence.

No visible reaction crossed her face.

Just stillness.

“How long?”

“Almost two hours.”

A pause.

Then

“Did he ask to come up?”

“No.”

That answer made her fingers pause slightly against the papers.

Lucien Drax was not a patient man.

If he wanted something, he usually took action immediately.

But lately…

he had started waiting.

And somehow, that felt stranger than pursuit.

Alina stood slowly, picking up her coat.

“Use the back exit,” the assistant offered carefully.

But Alina shook her head.

“No.”

Simple.

Calm.

Then she walked toward the elevator.

Outside, the night air felt colder than before.

Lucien noticed her immediately the moment she stepped out of the building.

Of course he did.

His attention had been fixed there for hours.

He stepped out of the car before the driver could react.

Alina stopped a few feet away from him.

Neither spoke at first.

The distance between them felt unfamiliar now.

Not intimate.

Not emotional.

Just careful.

“You waited,” Alina said quietly.

Lucien studied her face.

“You noticed.”

“I notice things,” she replied calmly.

That answer almost sounded pointed.

Lucien ignored it.

“You’ve been avoiding me for days.”

Alina adjusted her sleeve slightly.

“I’ve been working.”

“At midnight?”

“At peace.”

Silence.

That response settled somewhere uncomfortable inside him.

Lucien stepped closer.

“You think this ends because you decided it does?”

Alina met his gaze directly.

“No.”

A pause.

“I think it ended because we stopped being a marriage a long time ago.”

His expression hardened slightly.

“We are still married.”

Alina’s face remained calm.

“That paper matters more to you now than the relationship ever did.”

For the first time that night

Lucien had no immediate answer.

And she noticed.

Of course she noticed.

The old Alina would have softened by now.

Would have looked away first.

Would have worried she went too far.

But this version of her…

didn’t pull back at all.

“You’re angry,” Lucien said quietly.

Alina almost smiled.

“No.”

That single word made his chest tighten unexpectedly.

Because anger meant emotion.

Anger meant attachment.

But her calmness

that was worse.

Much worse.

“You don’t even sound hurt anymore,” he said.

Something flickered in her eyes then.

Not pain.

Memory.

“I was hurt for a very long time, Lucien.”

Her voice stayed soft.

“That phase passed already.”

Silence.

The city noise around them suddenly felt far away.

Lucien stared at her like he was hearing something too late to change.

“When?” he asked suddenly.

Alina frowned slightly.

“When what?”

“When did you stop loving me?”

The question came out lower than expected.

More personal.

More dangerous.

Because neither of them were prepared for how honest the answer might be.

Alina looked at him for a long moment.

Then finally

“I don’t know.”

A pause.

“But I remember when I stopped hoping.”

Something inside him shifted violently at those words.

Not visibly.

But enough.

Lucien took another step closer.

“Alina.”

She didn’t move.

Didn’t retreat.

Didn’t melt.

Nothing.

“You’re still my wife.”

This time, the words sounded less commanding.

Less certain.

Almost like he was trying to convince himself.

Alina looked up at him calmly.

“And you’re still too late.”

That sentence landed harder than anything else she had said.

Lucien’s jaw tightened sharply.

For the first time in years, he felt something dangerously close to helplessness.

And he hated it.

Hated how she stood in front of him completely untouched by his presence.

Hated how the silence between them no longer belonged to comfort.

Most of all

he hated that she no longer waited for him to close the distance.

A car pulled up nearby.

Her driver.

Alina glanced toward it briefly.

Then back at Lucien.

“I’m tired.”

Simple words.

But Lucien heard the deeper meaning inside them.

Not physically tired.

Emotionally.

Completely.

He caught her wrist before she could step away.

Not harsh.

But instinctive.

Immediate.

Alina looked down at his hand.

Then slowly back up at him.

Neither spoke.

The air between them tightened.

“Don’t do this,” he said quietly.

For a second

she almost didn’t recognize his voice.

Because Lucien Drax did not ask.

He ordered.

Controlled.

Expected.

But this…

almost sounded like pleading.

And that changed something.

Not enough to soften her.

But enough to make her chest ache unexpectedly.

“You should’ve said that years ago,” she whispered.

His grip tightened slightly.

“Then I’m saying it now.”

Alina looked at him carefully.

At the exhaustion beneath his control.

At the frustration he couldn’t hide as easily anymore.

At the unfamiliar instability slowly appearing beneath the perfect exterior.

But none of it changed the truth.

Slowly

she pulled her wrist free.

Just like before.

“You don’t miss me, Lucien,” she said softly.

“You miss access to me.”

Silence.

Then she stepped back.

And this time

Lucien didn’t stop her again.

Because something in her eyes warned him clearly:

if he pushed harder now…

he would lose even the little distance she still allowed.

Alina opened the car door.

But before getting in, she paused.

Without turning around, she said quietly,

“There’s a difference between loving someone…”

A beat.

“And finally noticing they’re gone.”

Then she entered the car.

The door closed softly.

And moments later

the car disappeared into the night.

Lucien remained standing there long after it was gone.

Motionless.

The cold wind moved past him, but he barely felt it.

Because for the first time

he was beginning to understand something terrifying.

Alina Virelle had spent seven years waiting for him.

And now that she finally stopped…

he was the one left waiting instead.