Chapter 2: Bridges unbuilt

Chapter 2: Bridges unbuilt

Islands of golden morning sun streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows, blanketing soft carpeting in the master bedroom. It was one of those torturous seconds where I could have been anywhere, foggy recollections within reach yet just beyond touch: wedding vows, champagne toast, whispers of our "unlikely match." But as I rolled to the far edge of the bed and reached out to feel the cool, untouched sheets, I knew this was no fantasy.

I was Mrs. Ethan Blackwell.

My heart clenched at the thought. Ethan, the man I’d married a week ago, had stormed out of our honeymoon suite after our little confrontation and hadn’t returned home till yesterday. I’d heard his footsteps in the hall, the click of his study door, but never the soft rustle of him beneath the covers beside me.

I let out a sigh and swung my legs over the edge of the bed, wrapping my robe around me. This was not just another day alone, it was the day that my little sister Naomi arrived. Due to certain issues, she couldn’t travel down to attend the wedding. She decided, despite my insistence for her not to, to fly down to help me get used to this mansion and, God help me, to help me win over my husband's heart.

By mid-morning, a sleek black car pulled up outside. Naomi bounded through the front doors, her auburn ponytail swinging, her bright green eyes sweeping the grand foyer. “Lils!” she cried, dropping her suitcase and sweeping me into a fierce hug. I’d missed her so much.

"Naomi," I breathed, relief and joy twisting in my chest. She backed away to look at me, and the stumbling length of silence that lay between me and my new home. "It's beautiful," she breathed, gazing around the echoing entrance hall.

I nodded. "It’s too much space."

She tightened her fingers around my hand. "Don't worry. I'm here for a few days, your personal unpacking, decorating, and moral-support squad." She smiled. "And, as required, sisterly torture squad."

I laughed. "Trust me, torture is necessary."

We explored the echoing halls of the house together, Naomi's prattle filling the gaps. She stacked my clothes in the walk-in closet and placed fresh flowers on side tables. While doing so, she exchanged sideways glances with the empty chair at dinner, the chilly echo of every unwritten debate.

As the evening drew on, she forced me to get the kitchen staff to prepare a "proper Blackwell welcome dinner." I agreed, any chance to move Ethan away from his work and in front of food I'd chosen. Naomi towered behind me under silver plates and candles, leaning forward now and then to remind me, "Remember, butter him up. It's not too late."

My heart pounding, I smoothed out Naomi's outfit choice, a deep emerald green dress, "something he can't ignore," she'd insisted. The front door creaked open. Ethan's footsteps were measured, ringing off marble. He was in the doorway, loosening his tie with the air of a man entirely in charge.

His gaze swept the table, past me, and something contracted inside. Naomi melted into the darkness as he leaned forward, the scent of his aftershave filling my nostrils.

"Dinner?" I rose to my feet, voice even.

He nodded. "I ate at the office." His tone was polite but grating.

My chest hurt. I glanced at Naomi behind me, eyes wide. "Ethan, please," I whispered. "Just for a few minutes."

He wavered, and for a moment I hoped he would yield. Then he shook his head. "I'm worn out, Lila." And, just as I was trying to take my hand to offer him comfort, he turned and retreated to his study.

Naomi squeezed my shoulder. "Well, that was… progress?" she whispered, frowning in sisterly dismay.

I nodded obediently, but seethed within.

Naomi swept into the kitchen the next morning while I was pouring the coffee. "Large blueberry muffins!" she exclaimed, waving a platter through the air. "He has to catch a whiff of these. He can't resist."

I couldn't help laughing. "He's endured everything else up until now."

Moments later, Ethan descended, briefcase in hand. He caught sight of the muffins, then me, then Naomi, who waved cheerily. His eyes lingered on Naomi’s bright smile, on her easy warmth towards me. For a fraction of a second, his guarded façade seemed to flicker, curiosity softening the harsh lines of his face.

“Morning,” he said, voice low.

Naomi's smile spread wider. "Good morning. I'm Naomi, Lila's sister. I'm here for a few days to get her settled." She held out her hand, a conscious move.

Ethan took it, his fingers brushing against hers, and my heart went into overdrive. He nodded. "Welcome."

And then he turned, glancing at me only once. In his eyes, I could have sworn I saw something, something unspoken, before he turned and walked away.

Naomi turned to me, "Well?" she said. "That wasn't deathly hostile."

I grinned a strained smile. "Small victories."

Later in the afternoon, Naomi was helping me unpack my jewels when she found the diamond bracelet Ethan's mother had given me. "Is this really for you?" she asked, holding it up. "It looks like a cuff instead of a gift."

I ran a finger over the chill metal, then shrugged. "A shackle, perhaps."

“Wear it when you and Ethan have a movie night tonight. No big deal, no pressure." She placed the bracelet in a velvet box. "I'll take care of the snacks and everything else.”

In the evening, we spread the couch with a homey living-room spread of throw pillows, popcorn, bubbly cider, and sat back and waited. At eight, Ethan slipped downstairs with hand on the railing, as though balancing on two opinions.

For a moment, he hung back—as if warring between flight and… something. Then he sat on the sofa's edge, tense arms keeping a polite distance.

“What’s all this?” He asked calmly.

Naomi flashed a smile. "We’re having movie night. Make yourself at home with popcorn, Ethan. My sister made the blueberry-caramel kind." She shot me a look and a wink: Operation Sisterly Sabotage had begun.

Ethan's face eased a bit. He took some popcorn and settled back into the cushions. As the movie started, Naomi elbowed me, whispering, “See?” And my heart soared. The distance between us, the wall he'd built, it cracked, just a little.

But whenever the movie dived into romance on screen, I caught Ethan's eyes slipping towards my direction. Flames churned low in my belly, a spark of tension humming between us like a live wire. Naomi, oblivious to how desperately I needed him, discussed holes in the plot, her words a distraction but also a barricade.

Halfway through, Ethan cleared his throat. "Lila," he drew in a breath. Naomi paused the movie. "Thank you, for tonight." His voice was genuine, almost vulnerable.

My breath caught. "I wanted… I wanted us to have something."

He looked over at me, as if looking for words. Behind him, the tall windows framed the garden flooded with moonlight, the sound of crickets singing. Heavy silence dropped, heavy with everything that wasn't spoken.

Naomi coughed discreetly. "I'll go get more popcorn" She said and then ran off, and just like that, we were alone.

Finally alone.

He totally turned to me, eyes dark and serious. The luxury of the mansion fell away. I saw nothing but him. "Lila," he whispered.

I swallowed, aware of the pressure of the bracelet on my wrist, of Naomi's words from before ringing in my head. "Ethan…" My voice trembled.

He closed the distance between us. His hand brushed against mine, and electricity coursed through me. Time froze. The cotton candy-like tension between us cracked and bubbled, so thick I could feel it coating my tongue.

And then his phone buzzed on the coffee table. He glanced at it, and the moment broke. He got up, inserting space between us once more. "I have to go." His voice was soft but firm.

I nodded, my heart racing. "Okay."

He got up, cast me a brief, tortured look, and started away, leaving me sitting there alone on the couch, the empty space beside me more emptily vacant than ever.

Naomi returned with popcorn to catch me staring at the empty space where Ethan once sat. She sat beside me, lines of concern furrowed on her face. "What did he do?"

I closed my eyes. "One step forward, two steps backward."

Naomi sighed. "Then we keep pushing."

I rested my head on her shoulder. "Thank you for showing up." My voice was whisper-soft but resolute. "I don't know if I can do this alone."

She squeezed her fingers harder around mine. "You're never alone. Tomorrow, we try again."

And in the quiet of that giant living room, popcorn left to sit between us, I gave myself the tiniest shred of hope: that maybe, with Naomi's help, I could really make it past the walls Ethan had built, and build something real with him.