Luelle
Luelle pressed her back against the cool metal wall of the pantry, the faint scent of spices wrapping around her like a fragile cocoon. Through the narrow gap in the door, she watched Ethan move through his apartment, his steps heavy, his shoulders stooped under the weight of responsibilities that seemed to grow heavier with each passing day. He looked tired—more than tired. Worn. Frayed at the edges in a way that made her chest tighten.
She had seen this before, the way he let his guard down when he thought no one was watching. Here, in the quiet solitude of his home, the masks he wore for the world slipped away, leaving only the raw truth of who he was beneath them. And tonight, that truth was almost too much for her to bear. The weight he carried was palpable, pressing down on him, and she could feel it too, like an ache that settled deep in her bones.
Ethan reached for the bottle of wine on the counter, his movements slow and deliberate. He poured the glass to the brim, the deep red liquid catching the dim light. From the drawer, he retrieved a small vial—a sedative. It wasn't strong, she knew, just enough to quiet the relentless churn of his thoughts and grant him a fleeting escape into sleep. But the sight of it still made her heart clench.
Her hand pressed against her chest, as if trying to steady the ache that consumed her. She loved him. She loved him so much it hurt, a constant, unrelenting ache that tightened around her like a vice. Watching him like this, so weighed down, so alone, tore at her in ways she couldn't put into words. She wanted to reach out, to ease his pain, to tell him he wasn't alone—but she couldn't. She had chosen this life, this shadowed existence, and it meant staying hidden, no matter how much it hurt.
Ethan drank the wine in small, measured sips, the sedative swirling into the glass. He paused when it was empty, staring at it for a long moment before placing it in the sink. His movements were slow, deliberate, as if even the simplest actions required effort. Luelle remained perfectly still, her breath barely a whisper as she listened to him retreat to the bedroom. She counted his footsteps, waiting for the soft creak of the mattress as he lay down.
When the sound came, she exhaled softly, her shoulders sagging with relief. The sedative would work quickly, deepening his breaths and granting him the comfort of sleep. And then, drawn by an invisible thread she couldn't resist, she slipped through the concealed entry in the pantry wall into his apartment. Her steps were practiced, smooth, the floor yielding to her weight as she moved silently toward his room.
Ethan lay on the bed, his face softened by the dim light filtering through the curtains. The tension that defined him by day had melted away, leaving him unburdened, if only for a little while. Luelle stood in the doorway, her fingers curling against the fabric of her jacket as she fought the urge to step closer. If she dared to truly look at him, to let herself feel the full force of her love for him, she knew it would shatter her.
She loved him. More than anything. More than she should.
This love consumed her, dictated every decision she made, every risk she took. It was the reason she stayed, the reason she wove her existence around his, creating a life devoted to watching over him, keeping him safe, staying close—even as shadows cloaked her presence. She had built her world around him, and yet, she could never truly be a part of his.
Luelle's gaze lingered on him, her heart aching with the weight of everything she couldn't say, everything she couldn't do. She wanted to reach out, to brush her fingers against his, to let him know she was there. But she didn't. She couldn't. Instead, she stood there, silent and unseen, her love for him a quiet, unspoken promise.
She walks to the chair in the corner of his room sitting down slowly, its worn leather creaking softly under her weight. The dim light spilling from the bedside lamp wrapped her in shadows, matching the ache that gripped her chest with unrelenting force. Her father's words rang in her mind, sharp and cold, the same command he had repeated countless times. "Stay away from Ethan. Let him do his job as leader. He doesn't need your meddling."
But how could she stay away? How could she pull herself from the gravity of the one who meant everything to her? She had built her life around him—her devotion, her vigilance, her longing. It wasn't something she could untangle or abandon, even if the Dominion itself demanded it.
Her gaze lingered on Ethan as he lay still, the sedative lulling him into quiet slumber. She studied the line of his jaw, the faint creases on his brow that hinted at the strain he carried even in sleep. He was vulnerable like this, stripped of the poise and control he wore so impeccably during the day. To the world, he was the heir to the Dominion, the future leader burdened by legacy and duty. But to her, he was simply Ethan—the man she adored, the man whose pain had become hers.
The upcoming ball loomed in her mind, vivid and unrelenting, a memory she hadn't witnessed but had pieced together from her father's casual remarks. The women chosen by the Dominion, handpicked for their roles and suitability, would line up before Ethan, ready for him to select his bride. The image coiled into a knot of ice in her gut, tightening with each thought. She wasn't part of his world—not in the way those women were. She didn't belong among the Dominion's carefully curated faces or within its structured halls. She belonged to the shadows, unseen, unacknowledged.
Luelle exhaled softly, her thoughts drifting to the passageway that had brought her here. It had been a labour of love and necessity, crafted with meticulous care and calculation. Months ago, under the guise of Gerard Aptos, she had purchased the apartment next to Ethan's, an effort that demanded every ounce of her skill in deception. Gerard was gruff, stooped, his aging skin and weary posture carefully constructed with prosthetics and makeup. Oversized spectacles perched on his nose, their magnifying glare hiding the sharp watchfulness beneath. His gravelly voice—low and tired—spoke only when necessary, a hermit who preferred solitude.
The building staff knew Gerard as nothing more than a harmless old man, and even Ethan hadn't questioned his presence. But Gerard's existence was a façade, a means to an end. The hidden entrance between the apartments had been her true goal—a narrow, soundproof passageway tucked away in the pantry, linking her space to his. It was undetectable, unseen, and entirely hers.
She had planned every detail carefully, executing the renovations while Ethan was away on business. The debris had disappeared quietly, the work unnoticed. A few times, she had slipped into his apartment through the balcony, double-checking the pantry's integrity, ensuring no trace of her efforts remained visible. The passageway was her lifeline, a way to protect him when no one else could, a way to stay close even when she had no right to.
And now, it had brought her here, to this moment, sitting in his shadowed room as her heart broke for him. Ethan wasn't just the Dominion's heir, burdened by centuries of expectation. He was Ethan. The man she loved more deeply than she had ever thought possible.
A quiet sound pulled her from her thoughts—a hitch in his breath, the faint twitch of his brow. She stiffened, watching as his fingers curled into the blankets and his shoulders stiffened. The nightmares were clawing at him again, dragging him into their depths, and her heart constricted as she moved closer, steps silent and rehearsed.
His breaths grew ragged, his face contorted with unseen anguish. Carefully, she reached out, her fingertips brushing against his before she allowed herself to take his hand fully, gripping it tightly as if to anchor him to her, to reality.
"Ethan," she whispered, her voice barely audible, a breath against the quiet.
The warmth of his hand steadied her, grounding her as much as it grounded him. His fingers tightened around hers instinctively, his subconscious seeking the comfort she offered, even if he didn't realize it was her. Slowly, his breathing evened, his muscles relaxing as the tension in his body melted away.
This wasn't the first time she had done this—countless nights spent by his side, offering him the quiet solace that only she could give. He had never remembered it, not once, but it didn't matter. It helped him, and that was all she needed.
In the silence of the room, she whispered gentle reassurances, her voice a soothing rhythm that she hoped would reach him in the depths of his troubled dreams. She stayed because she loved him, because she couldn't imagine being anywhere else, because her heart ached with longing that refused to fade.
Ethan was her everything. And as long as he needed her—whether he knew it or not—she would stay.