Two.A shadow crossed the frosted glass of the study door.It paused.My breath did something unwise.
One.The handle turned.
The door opened a fraction.She didn’t step in right away.She stood on the threshold, the hall’s pale light cutting around her like a halo.Her hair was gathered at the nape of her neck; her hands were empty.She had put on a simple dress.
“Good morning.Come in.”
The door clicked shut behind her.
“Coffee?”
“Yes.”
I poured.The cup trembled in my hand for a fraction before I willed it still.I handed it to her without letting our fingers touch.She sipped, winced—black was a language not everyone spoke—and set the cup down on the edge of the desk like a piece on a board she was still evaluating.
“How did you sleep?”
“Toss and turned.It’s a new bed and house for me.I’ve never slept well in other places.You?”
“I only stayed in bed for an hour after you passed out.”
It might have been longer than that.She could leave me tomorrow, so I wanted to take in every night I’d have with her before it was too late.
“You married me without asking.”
No rage in it.No tears.“Yes, I didn’t trust time not to steal you.Or someone else to win your heart.”
She absorbed that with the quiet of someone who knew exactly how much time could rot a thing meant to last.“You can’t keep me by force.”
“I can keep you and never use force.”
Everything coming out of my mouth this morning was disgusting.But the thought of losing her already… killed me inside.
“My father would call this a pretty cage.”
“Your father might prefer cages, but I will never lock you in one.”
She glanced at the ledger, at the maps, at the chair my father used to fill, at the ring on her finger, at my mouth, at the scar on my knuckle I’d earned the first time I made a man bigger than me understand I would not yield.“I don’t know how to be your wife.”
“Good,” I said, and meant it.“We’ll figure it out together.”
Something in her face shifted—caution making room for the smallest, uninvited thing: curiosity.It wasn’t forgiveness.It was a truce offered by a general who still had artillery pointed at your front gate.
From the hallway came footsteps that knew better than to interrupt.Marco’s voice low, direct, the wordperimeterfloating in and out like a tide.The world resumed, as it always did.
I stepped out from behind the desk and came to stand on her side.Close enough to feel the way the air changed around her.Not touching.“Breakfast,” I said.“Then you show me which room will be yours until you decide otherwise.”
“You don’t want me to share a bed with you?”she asked, eyes narrowed.
“I would like nothing more, but something tells me you need more time.Even after last night.Sit.”She glowered at the chair as if sitting were an oath.Then did so.
Outside, the river caught the first hard light of the day.The city pulled itself together for another performance of power and fear.My father’s voice said that empires didn’t bend for love.My mother’s silent portrait—somewhere down the hall—disagreed.
Possession was easy.Protection was instinct.
16
MIA
