Prologue
The soft hum of a smooth engine cut through the quiet as a Pink Macan rolled smoothly into the driveway. Inside the car, a young woman adjusted her bluish rimless Cartier, her fingers briefly brushing over the delicate frame. A sigh left her lips, and just as she shifted gears into park, her phone echoed.
“You there yet?”
She exhaled, pushing a few wisps of her bangs aside—soft, weightless, like fairies dancing in the air. Adjusting her position, she pulled the handbrake. This is it.“Just finished parking,” she replied, voice steady.
“Shit, how does it feel? It’s been forever, hasn’t it?”
Cool and detached, she side-shrugged while glancing out the windshield.
“Not so bad—”
But as her gaze lifted, the grand estate loomed before her, bathed in the soft glow of the late afternoon sun. Towering Corinthian columns framed the entrance, their intricate carvings catching the light just enough to highlight their opulence. The mansion’s facade—a seamless blend of classic Italian and French chateau influences—stood pristine, its ivory walls gleaming against the rich, wrought-iron balconies.
Taking in the grandeur of the house before her—the same high ceilings.. the same symmetrical architecture that loomed over her childhood—her lips twisted slightly.
Now, it just felt..
Suffocating.
Her eyes, lined with dark kohl and mascara, held something indescribable. Something.. forlorn.
“But not so good either.”
On the other side of the line, her friend sighed—the kind of sigh that carried quiet understanding.
The air crisp against her skin as she finally stepped out to the already opened trunk. Pulling out her suitcase, she smirked just a little. “Well,” she mused, “let’s just call it a homebound. And a chance to see my bestie.”
“Damn right. I’ll be waiting for you tomorrow—no excuses.”
Her smirk deepened. She clicked a button on the key, and walked away as the trunk shut close on its own. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” she laughed off, the familiar banter easing the weight on her chest. At least for now.
As she finally stepped toward the entrance, the grand doors swung open, revealing her family’s longtime housekeeper. But instead of the usual warm welcome, her face was tight with tension, lips pressed into a nervous line. She gave her a smile and a nod, but barely spared her a glance, still focused on her call.
“Finally inside,” she muttered, handing over her suitcase without a second thought before walking in.
The housekeeper hurried after her, voice tinged with urgency. “Miss—there’s something you need to know—”
“Betty, I swear—am waaaay too exhausted for bad news right now,” she groaned, rubbing her temple as she moved deeper into the house.
Betty hesitated, lips parting then clamping shut. Face turned pale.
“You want a moment alone?” a voice crackled through the speaker.
Standing in the center of the grand foyer, she exhaled slowly, letting the air fill her lungs. Almost instinctively, her gaze dropped. The marble beneath her—reflected the cascading light, creating a mirage of gold and cream, untouched by time.
She lifted her head, and the grand foyer greeted her with towering ceilings.
Still intact. Still imposing.
The crystal chandelier suspended like a frozen constellation above her head. Arched windows soared high, allowing the last remnants of daylight to spill through, casting elongated shadows across the lavish interior.
Too beautiful to love—too familiar to forget.
She had grown up here. And yet, standing here now.. It felt colder than ever.But then again—
This was home.
And she hated it.
Her Medusa pumps clicked softly against the pristine surface as she finally moved forward. The walls were adorned with golded-framed oil paintings, their solemn eyes following her every step. The long hallway stretched endlessly, lined with towering white columns, gilded moldings, and floor-to-ceiling mirrors that only made the space feel more infinite.
“Miss—” Betty tried again, her voice more urgent now. “I need to tell you something—”
“Can’t you see I’m reminiscing, Betty?”“I’m sorry, Miss, but this is urgent—”“Betty, this is my last straw.”
Her friend’s voice crackled through the phone, a teasing lilt in her tone. “What’s with Betty?”
She shrugged, already making her way further inside. “I don’t know but I’m exhausted. When she’s this panicked, it’s either about my parents, my sister—”
“Or the brother-in-law?”
The scent of fresh-cut roses lingered faintly in the air, blending with the subtle trace of old wood and polished stone. But it was the quiet tension that made everything felt suffocating.
The gorgeous young woman rolled her slanted eyes. Exasperated. “Yeah, yeah, the brother—”
“Miss,” Betty cut in, voice a little higher now. “That’s the thing—”
She stopped in her tracks, turning sharply. “Betty I swear—I’m this close to exploding. Can you not pile on more stress—”
But then, she saw him.
At the far end of the hall, beyond the polished expanse of marble and gold, a lone figure stood, framed perfectly within the grand archway. His light golden hair caught the fading sunlight filtering through the arch, each strand illuminated in a way that made it seem surreal—
Making him look like an angel.
He stood there, still, like a scene frozen in time—except for the slight movement of his hand, lifting a fork, mid-bite.
Unaware.
And she’d recognize that silhouette anywhere.
The view behind him was breathtaking—light bled across the manicured hedges and marble fountains, casting everything in hues of deep amber and soft violet—an image straight out of a painting.
And yet, somehow, he was the only thing she saw.
Tall. Familiar.
As if sensing her stare, he turned. The golden light from outside cast soft shadows over his face, accentuating sharp angles—
Old memories.
His gaze flickered to Betty first—catching her rigid, resigned expression—before settling on—
And the moment their eyes met, something froze. Inside her. Inside him—Inside the carefully preserved air of this house—His hand, still holding a fork, slackened. A metallic clang echoed as it hit the counter.
They stared.
And then, from the phone still in her hand, a voice rose in sheer panic.
“Wait—Eve—Eve, he’s there?!”
A beat.
But she barely heard it. The room had folded in on itself. Her fingers had gone numb, her breath stilled in her throat. The phone slipped from her grasp, landing with a soft thud. The call cut off.
Across from her, still standing by the ivory-and-gold kitchen that looked far too exquisite for something as mundane as eating, he swallowed thickly. His fingers curled around the edges of the counter like it was the only thing anchoring him. The world had shrunk down to this—this unbearable, suffocating gravity.
She gulped.
And just like that, the warmth of the estate—the chandeliers, the carefully arranged floral displays, the breathtaking architectural grandeur—all faded into the background.
Then, barely above a whisper, she mouthed—
“..Liam?”
