Sarima shifted on her bed, discomfort twisting deep in her stomach. Nausea lingered heavy and persistent as she stared at the thin strip of light slipping through the curtains.
She turned again, gripping her pillow tighter when a cold breeze seeped into the room. Rain must have fallen last night, she thought sluggishly, her thoughts feeling slow and distant. For a while, she just lay there, weak and too drained to fully move. The fever had eased, she could feel the burning ache gone, but what remained was a hollow exhaustion that made even breathing feel tiring.
Her fingers brushed her arm, goosebumps rising instantly.
Eventually, she forced herself up. She sat for a moment, letting her mind catch up with her body, then reached for the jug on her bedside table and drank slowly, grounding herself in something real again.
Her eyes drifted across the room aimlessly and stopped. At the foot of her bed was a white envelope. It looked sealed and was tied with a red ribbon.
Her breath stalled. Red ribbon? In two years, there had never been a ribbon.
She moved before she could overthink it, snatching it up with the intent to throw it away like the others, like she had trained herself to do. But her hand stopped midair.
No. She shouldn't read it. She had stopped reading them for a reason, because they got into her head, because something about them always lingered longer than she wanted it to.
Her fingers tightened, and the silence in her mind deepened dangerously.
Slowly, she opened it.
The handwriting inside was calm, controlled, familiar in a way that made her stomach tighten.
"I know you would read this one, Sarima."
Her chest clenched.
"It was very reckless of you to get sick because of me. I would never want you to hurt yourself… and deep down, you know this."
"Don't let this repeat itself."
A hollow laugh slipped out of her before she could stop it.
He wouldn't want her hurt, and yet he was the only one who ever made her feel it in ways she couldn't explain.
Her eyes moved faster now, almost against her own control. "How would you like me to deal with Luke Houston?"
Everything inside her went still.
So it wasn't in her head. It hadn't been paranoia.
He was there. Somewhere, maybe not the servant but he was there.
Her grip tightened on the letter as she lowered herself slowly and brought the paper closer to het face.
"Do not stress about meeting me. You will… when the time comes."
Her throat went dry. Oddly she had always wanted to meet him but now that the possibility stood, she didn't know if she was keen on it.
"There's always a time when husband and wife meet."
Her breath caught.
"Afràtos."
The word lingered, strange and soft, almost tender in sound, wrong in a way she couldn't immediately place.
She grabbed her phone with slightly unsteady hands and searched it. 'Word used to describe soft and fluffy dessert.'
A quiet, disbelieving laugh left her lips.
"What…?"
Her thoughts began to shift, slipping at the edges. She shook her head quickly and slapped her cheeks lightly.
She dropped the letter and then moved to the other end of the bed looking for her slippers as she had rolled over.
A hamper was neatly placed beside her bed, filled with white chocolate, her favorite.
She didn't move and just stared at the bizzareness.
A slow realization settled into her chest.
He didn't just watch her, he knew her.
She fell back onto the bed, exhaling shakily, but a knock pulled her back into reality.
"Come in," she said, forcing her voice steady as she sat up.
The maids entered with fresh bedding.
"Miss Sarima, your mother requests your presence in the dining room for lunch," the head maid said politely.
She nodded absently, but her attention drifted to the trash can.
Before she fully thought about it, she was already moving, digging through it despite the way the maids went quiet behind her. She found it,the last letter from the night of the dinner at the Houstons residence,crumpled but intact.
She rushed into the bathroom and locked the door behind her, sitting on the edge of the bathtub as she unfolded it carefully.
"You looked at the sky today. You always do that when you're thinking too much, like the clouds might answer you. They can't… but I would."
Her breathing slowed without permission.
"I stood closer than you think. Close enough to know your breath hitched when the wind touched your neck."
Her fingers tightened.
"Funny, isn't it?
You don't even know me, yet I can't stand the thought of someone else believing they have a right to you. I know I should step back, but I won't. Not when you are mine in every way that matters. Even if you don't know it yet.
Yours, always."
Silence swallowed the bathroom.
Her heartbeat was too loud, too aware of itself.
She pressed her lips together, trying to push the feeling down, but something inside her had already shifted and she hated how easily it had. Her face had turned red and she wasn't sure if it was from embarrassment or a blush.
She turned on the shower.
Warm water poured over her skin, drowning everything else.
She closed her eyes. Letting the warmth seep into her tired body.
A hand touched her shoulder and her eyes snapped open.
She turned sharply, repeatedly cleaning the dripping water off her eyes.
She shut off the shower immediately, letting the silence crash in.
She couldn't hear the maids in the bedroom nor any movement indicating their presence, just her annoyingly breathing which had turned louder.
She inhaled slowly and exhaled but her mind no longer felt fully hers.
She dressed quickly after taking some time choosing something comfortable but good looking. A fit-and-flare mini black square-neck silk dress, white furry slippers, and her leg chain adorned her body, complimenting her fair skin.
The fever had calmed down after she took her medication. Her feet strolled calmly as she noticed the hallway felt quieter and heavier.
A maid followed silently behind her.
At the dining room, voices filled the space before she even entered.
Walking in, she paused, took in the different faces around then walked in properly and took a seat beside her brother and opposite a visitor.
The Ellisons had arrived one had told her they were even coming. It definitely couldn't be a surprise visit as the Ellisons lived a state away from them and with the feast like breakfast, they knew and no one told her. How much more could they call her irrelevant?
"Your daughter has grown into a beautiful young lady," Mrs. Ellison said warmly.
"Indeed," her father replied.
"How many years has it been?" Mr. Ellison asked.
"Five," a deep voice answered.
Sarima looked up to look at the man opposite her.
Oliver Ellison met her gaze and smiled.
She returned it automatically, then looked down at her plate, cutting into her steak roughly even though she had no appetite.
Her mother was already watching her, measured and disapproving. Her brothers sat composed, perfect, untouched which made it easy to see who didn't belong as the impostor.
"They were so close when they were little," Mrs. Ellison said with a soft laugh.
"That's what makes the best pair," her mother replied.
"Their wedding would be the talk of the year," Mrs. Ellison added brightly.
Sarima's hand stilled.
Wedding?
The word settled slowly.
Her grip tightened around her fork.
Weren't they planning on selling her off to the Houstons? He must have struck. She stared at the steak coldly. Okay...she was definitely used to being the bargaining commodity and the former her would have never complained about it as she thought that would mean her repaying the family for their kindness of bringing her out of the orphanage but the now she didn't feel obligated to be used.
Her eyes moved to Oliver. She didn't want him hurt because she knew what her stalker could do.