Aluna's knuckles turned white, her nails unconsciously digging into her palms and leaving painful red marks. The fire of jealousy burning in her chest felt like searing embers, every breath she took scorching and suffocating. She kept staring at Rey and Natasha—at their silhouettes, so close under the dim garden lights—and felt a wave of despair crashing over her like waves shattering rocks. She felt increasingly invisible, a ghost in this house, a contract wife who had no place in the heart of the man who was hers only by law.
The next morning, after a breakfast that felt like a silent ritual where every bite was tasteless and heavy, Aluna withdrew to her room. She locked the door as if it could keep out the haunting image of Natasha. But the woman's presence in the mansion lingered like her expensive, sharp perfume—piercing every corner of the room and reminding her of an intimacy she never shared with her husband. She lay in bed, her mind spinning with images of Rey and Natasha laughing together, sharing memories from a past she was never part of. A strange sensation twisted in her stomach—a blend of heartbreak and deep disappointment unlike anything she'd ever felt.
Maya, the head maid, bloomed like a flower under sunlight with Natasha's arrival. She moved swiftly around Rey and his guest all day, offering cold drinks or delicious snacks with a sweetness in her smile she never once gave Aluna. Her eyes sparkled whenever she spoke to Rey, and there was a faint but unmistakable possessiveness in her tone.
Aluna often caught Maya stealing glances at Rey, her expression filled with longing and hope—something that only deepened Aluna's discomfort.
"Mr. Rey seemed to enjoy his conversation with Miss Natasha in the study earlier today," Maya said one afternoon when she bumped into Aluna in the kitchen. Maya was washing some teacups with noticeably more enthusiasm than usual. "They looked very close and serious. I imagine they were discussing important things from their past. You must have felt a little... neglected, Mrs. Aluna?"
Aluna clenched her fists behind her back, trying to hide the slight tremor that rippled through her body. "I'm fine, Maya. Thank you for your unnecessary concern."
Maya chuckled softly, her voice like silk laced with thorns. "Of course, ma'am. But the eyes don't lie. I saw how Mr. Rey glanced at Miss Natasha during dinner. That look of nostalgia... a yearning he might never feel for anyone else."
Maya's words pierced Aluna's heart like icy needles. She felt more trapped than ever in this house, isolated within a maze of shared history and closeness she had no part in. A sudden longing for the warmth of her family in the village overwhelmed her—she wanted to escape the cold luxury of the mansion and seek out genuine affection. She missed her mother's gentle touch, her father's wise advice, and the joyful chatter of her siblings. Compared to that simple warmth, the mansion felt like a grand but hollow ice palace. She felt increasingly small and insignificant, like a forgotten decoration gathering dust in a corner.
That night, Aluna couldn't sleep. The silk sheets on her bed felt cold and unwelcoming. The images of Natasha and Rey whispering to each other haunted every corner of her mind, and the scent of Natasha's perfume seemed embedded in the very fibers of the fabric, making her nauseous. Restless and tense, she decided to get some fresh air in the back garden, hoping the silence of the night could calm the storm inside her. She slipped into her thin nightgown and stepped out barefoot, careful not to make a sound.
The garden was large and well-maintained, filled with the intoxicating scent of night blooms and the soothing trickle of the fountain. But tonight, the thick darkness and heavy silence felt ominous. The tall trees loomed like watchful giants, and the shifting shadows beneath the dim starlight whispered malicious secrets. She walked aimlessly, her mind spiraling with emotions—anger at Rey, jealousy toward Natasha, and frustration with herself for being trapped in this situation.
As she walked along the winding path, the cold wind brushing against her thin gown, she suddenly felt someone's presence behind her. Her heart began to pound erratically, painfully. She quickly turned, eyes straining against the darkness, but saw only flickering shadows and the all-consuming night. She tried to calm herself—perhaps it was just her imagination, playing tricks on her already fragile mind. But a dreadful intuition tightened its grip on her, a soft whisper warning of danger. Goosebumps prickled her skin, and an unnatural chill wrapped around her.
She quickened her pace, aiming for the warm lights spilling from the mansion windows. But before she reached the back door, a strong hand grabbed her arm roughly from behind and yanked her back. Aluna gasped and instinctively tried to scream, but a foul-smelling hand clamped over her mouth, muffling her into a series of strained whimpers. She felt sharp nails dig into her skin, sending stabbing pain up her arm.
She struggled wildly, trying to break free from the painful grip. Her body was dragged away from the house's light, deeper into the suffocating darkness beneath the towering trees. She could smell alcohol on the attacker's breath, feel the hot, heavy panting against her cheek. A paralyzing fear seized her, leaving her weak and helpless. Tears of terror streamed down her cheeks, soaking the hand that silenced her. Her heart pounded louder and faster, threatening to burst from her chest.
"Don't scream, you little whore," hissed a raspy, repulsive voice into her ear, the grip tightening until she thought her bones would snap. "You'll get what you deserve for stealing what isn't yours." She was shoved back hard against the rough trunk of a tree, the impact knocking the breath from her lungs.
Aluna kept fighting, kicking and trying to bite the hand over her mouth. She didn't know who this man was or why he was attacking her, but primal survival instincts screamed that her life was in danger. She tried to recall self-defense moves from a short class she took years ago, but panic dulled her reactions. Her mind was blank—only fear and the will to live remained. She felt coarse fingers grope at her, and revulsion surged, making her stomach turn.
Suddenly, from the suffocating darkness, a tall figure moved swiftly and silently toward them. A low, menacing growl echoed, followed by a loud thud that jolted Aluna. The hand over her mouth was yanked away, and she collapsed to the cold, damp ground, coughing and gasping for breath like a fish out of water. Pain throbbed through her body, especially in the arm that had been viciously grabbed.
She looked up with tear-blurred eyes and saw Rey's silhouette standing over her, his tall, broad frame forming a shield between her and the attacker. The dim starlight revealed a face tight with rage—cold, deadly fury. His normally icy eyes now blazed with terrifying emotion, like coals ready to burn anyone who dared touch him. He glared at the crumpled figure on the ground with a look that could kill, a promise of savage vengeance etched into every hardened line of his face. His jaw was clenched, his fists shaking with restrained violence.
"Don't ever... touch her," Rey growled, his voice low and deadly, like the snarl of a beast about to pounce. Each word he spoke was chilling and threatening, sending a shiver down Aluna's spine. She had never seen Rey this furious before, and the cruelty in his aura frightened her—and, strangely, made her feel a bit protected. She watched as Rey stepped forward, grabbed the attacker's collar, and yanked him up with brutal force. All Aluna could do was sob on the ground, trembling as she watched the terrifying scene unfold before her.