5

Valeria clutched the edge of the wooden doorframe, her knuckles white as she peeked into the room. The faint glow of the evening sun streamed through the large, arched window, casting a golden hue across the spacious chamber. On the bed, Markus sat slumped forward, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands buried in his hair. His broad shoulders heaved slightly, betraying his frustration and turmoil.

Near him stood Mrs. Stella, her elegant silhouette framed by the light. Despite her composed demeanor, there was a visible tension in her posture as she wrung her hands.

“I only ever wanted what was best for you, Markus,” Stella said softly, her voice laced with both earnestness and desperation. She moved closer to him, reaching out but stopping just short of placing her hand on his shoulder.

Markus lifted his head slightly, his sharp features twisted in a mix of disbelief and anger. “What you did… bringing Valeria here, putting her in the middle of all this—it wasn’t your decision to make!” His voice was low, but the sharp edge of betrayal cut through each word.

Stella’s lips tightened as she swallowed hard. “You’re right. It wasn’t,” she admitted, her voice breaking slightly. “But you wouldn’t have listened to me. You’ve always been so headstrong, so…” She hesitated, her gaze softening. “So convinced you could do everything on your own. I saw you struggling, Markus, and I knew you needed someone who could help you. Someone who could match you.”

Valeria’s breath caught in her throat as she stood frozen in the hallway, her heart pounding. She had known Stella’s involvement in her presence here, but hearing it laid bare was something else entirely.

Markus leaned back against the headboard, rubbing his temples. “You think pairing me with Valeria was the solution? You didn’t just bring her into my life—you dragged her into this mess. Into my mess.”

“She’s stronger than you think,” Stella countered, her voice firm now, a flicker of pride in her tone. “You might not see it yet, but she’s exactly what you need. She challenges you, makes you question yourself. And if you’d just let her, she could—”

Markus slammed his palm against the bed, cutting her off. “That’s not the point, Mother!” he growled, his eyes blazing. “You didn’t trust me enough to figure things out for myself. You didn’t ask me what I wanted.”

Stella took a step back, her shoulders drooping under the weight of his words. “You’re right. I didn’t,” she whispered. “But I believed—I still believe—that Valeria is your chance, Markus. Not just for your future, but for your heart.”

Valeria’s heart raced as she absorbed every word. A chance for his heart? She felt like an intruder, yet she couldn’t look away.

Markus exhaled sharply and looked away, his jaw tightening. “What if you’re wrong?” he asked quietly, his voice barely audible.

“I’m not,” Stella replied with conviction, moving to sit beside him on the bed. “I know you’re angry, and you have every right to be. But I did it because I love you, Markus. Because I want to see you happy, even if it means risking your hatred.”

In the silence that followed, Valeria felt the weight of their emotions pressing against her chest. Before she could step away, the floor beneath her creaked. Markus’s head snapped toward the door, his piercing eyes locking on hers.

“Valeria,” he murmured, his voice heavy with surprise and something unspoken.

Caught, Valeria hesitated, the heat rising to her cheeks. “I… I didn’t mean to intrude,” she said softly, stepping into the room. “I heard voices, and…”

Markus stared at her, the tension in his body momentarily easing. Stella, too, turned to look at her, a faint smile playing on her lips. “Come in, dear,” Stella said gently. “I think it’s time we stop keeping you in the dark.”

Valeria nodded hesitantly, closing the door behind her as she stepped into the room. She could feel Markus’s gaze on her, intense and searching, as if he were trying to decide what to say—or what to feel.

The air between them was heavy with unspoken words, the past and present colliding in a way none of them could escape.

Scene: The Truth, and the Weight of Words

Mrs. Stella rose from the bed gracefully, brushing her hands down the front of her elegant dress as if smoothing away the tension of the conversation. Her gaze shifted between Markus and Valeria, her expression softening.

“Markus,” she said firmly, her tone maternal but unyielding, “I know you’re angry with me, but that’s no excuse to be cold toward Valeria. She is your wife, and she deserves your respect. More than that, she deserves your kindness.”

Markus opened his mouth to retort, but Stella raised a hand, silencing him with a look that brooked no argument. “You can take your frustrations out on me all you want, but not on her. She’s endured enough being here, caught in the crossfire of things she never asked for.”

Valeria shifted uncomfortably under Stella’s words, her fingers fiddling with the edge of her sleeve. The weight of the situation felt heavier with every passing moment.

Stella walked over to Valeria, placing a gentle hand on her arm. “You have more patience than I ever gave you credit for,” she said with a faint, almost apologetic smile. “Thank you for that.”

Valeria nodded, not trusting her voice to respond.

Turning back to Markus, Stella added, “You’re both in this together now. Whether you like it or not, that’s the reality. So, talk to her. And do it politely,” she emphasized, her sharp gaze locking on her son.

Markus muttered something under his breath, but he gave a slight nod, his posture stiff.

Satisfied, Stella moved toward the door, pausing briefly as she looked back at the two of them. “I’ll leave you two to talk,” she said softly, her voice carrying a mix of hope and concern. “But don’t waste this moment, Markus. She’s here for you. Don’t push her away.”

With that, Stella exited the room, the soft click of the door closing behind her leaving an almost deafening silence in her wake. Markus sat still for a moment, his jaw clenched and his hands resting on his thighs. He stared at the floor as if searching for the right words in the wooden grain. Valeria remained near the door, unsure whether to move closer or give him space.

Finally, Markus exhaled heavily and lifted his head, his sharp features set in a mask of restrained emotion. “You… heard everything, didn’t you?” he asked, his voice quieter than she expected.

Valeria nodded hesitantly. “Most of it.” He rubbed the back of his neck, the tension in his shoulders obvious. “I’m sorry you had to hear that. None of this is fair to you.”

She took a tentative step forward, her hands clasped in front of her. “I don’t blame you,” she said softly. “But… I don’t really know where I stand in all of this. Your mother brought me here, but I’m not sure why you let me stay.”

Markus’s gaze snapped to hers, his piercing eyes studying her intently. “You think I don’t want you here?” he asked, his tone carrying a hint of incredulity.

Valeria hesitated, unsure how to respond. “I… don’t know what you want,” she admitted. “You’ve been distant. And angry. And I don’t know if it’s because of me or something else.”

Markus sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “It’s not you,” he said firmly, though his voice softened as he continued. “It’s everything else. The war. The betrayal. The expectations. And… maybe it’s a little about you,” he added, his lips twitching into the faintest shadow of a wry smile.

Valeria raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Well, that’s reassuring,” she said, her voice tinged with dry humor. For the first time that day, Markus let out a short, quiet chuckle, though it faded quickly. “Look,” he said, his tone more serious now. “I know I’ve been… difficult. But my mother’s right about one thing. You didn’t ask to be dragged into this, and you’ve done nothing but try to handle it all with grace.”

He stood, taking a hesitant step toward her. “I don’t know if I can give you what you deserve, Valeria. But I do know I owe you honesty. And respect.” Valeria met his gaze, her expression unreadable. “That’s a start,” she said softly, the faintest hint of a smile playing on her lips.

“Do you think, i will say you those things?” Markus smirked and settled back in the bed. “Never. Quit making up scenarios in your head, Valeria.” The air between them hung heavy with unspoken words as Markus stood a few feet away, his sharp gaze locked on Valeria’s. For a moment, there was a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the hardened wall he so often carried.

Valeria hesitated, her breath catching as she stepped closer. Her hand trembled slightly as she reached out, her fingers brushing against his. “Markus,” she said softly, her voice almost a whisper, “you don’t have to say anything now. I just… I want to try. To understand you. To—”

But before she could finish, Markus pulled his hand away sharply, his jaw tightening. “Don’t,” he said, his voice cold and cutting.

Valeria froze, her hand still lingering in the space between them, now empty. “Markus, I—”

“I will never say those things to you,” he interrupted, his tone firm, but beneath the harshness, there was a tinge of something unspoken—regret, anger, or perhaps both. His gaze hardened as he continued, his words deliberate. “Because I don’t love you, Valeria. I never did. This—us—wasn’t my choice.”

Her lips parted slightly, and for a moment, she could do nothing but stare at him, his words cutting deeper than any weapon ever could. “It wasn’t your choice?” she echoed, her voice shaking.

Markus nodded, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “No. My mother arranged this. She decided you were what I needed and made it happen. She pulled the strings, orchestrated the marriage, and shoved us together without asking if I wanted it.”

Valeria’s heart sank, her chest tightening as his words settled in. “So… I’m just some pawn in a game you didn’t want to play?”

Markus looked away, unable to meet her gaze. “I don’t blame you for any of this. But don’t expect me to pretend I feel something for you that I don’t.”

The room felt colder now, the fragile peace they had started to build shattering like glass. Valeria swallowed hard, her throat burning with the effort to hold back tears. “You don’t even want to try?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

Markus’s expression softened for a fleeting moment before the wall returned. “It’s not about trying, Valeria. It’s about the truth. And the truth is, I didn’t choose this life, this marriage. I’m not going to lie to you—or to myself.”

The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the faint sound of the wind outside. Valeria dropped her hand, letting it fall limply at her side. “I see,” she said, her voice steadier now despite the storm raging inside her.

“I hadn’t chosen this for both of us. I was put into it but you don’t care to listen.” Markus glanced at her, his eyes briefly flickering with something unreadable. But he said nothing, and the space between them felt like an unbridgeable chasm.

“I’ll leave you alone, then,” Valeria said quietly, her tone devoid of emotion as she turned toward the door. “Since you’ve made it clear where we stand.” His heart clenched, but he pushed the feeling aside, telling himself it was better this way.

As the door shut softly behind Valeria, the sound echoed in the suffocating quiet of the room. Markus remained where he stood, staring at the closed door as if willing her to come back. But she didn’t.

A sharp pang twisted in his chest, but he buried it beneath layers of anger and frustration. His hand itched with restless energy, and his gaze darted to the porcelain vase sitting innocuously on the side table beside the bed.

With a growl of frustration, Markus grabbed the vase and hurled it across the room. It shattered against the stone wall, shards flying in all directions. The sharp crack of breaking porcelain matched the chaos inside him, but the release was fleeting.

His breathing was heavy, his fists clenched at his sides. “Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, pacing the room.

The image of Valeria’s tear-streaked face lingered in his mind, haunting him. He hated the way her eyes had looked at him—hurt, confused, and betrayed. He hated even more that he’d been the one to put that expression there.

Markus ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the roots as he tried to make sense of the storm raging inside him. “This is for the best,” he told himself aloud, his voice tinged with bitterness. “She’ll understand that eventually.”

But even as he said the words, they felt hollow. He slumped onto the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees and his head dropping into his hands. The shattered vase lay in pieces across the floor, a perfect reflection of how he felt inside.

Valeria hurried down the corridor, her footsteps echoing against the stone walls. Her vision blurred with tears, but she kept her head high, refusing to let anyone see her break.

Her chest felt tight, the weight of Markus’s words pressing down on her like an unbearable burden. She wiped at her cheeks furiously, willing herself to stop crying, but the pain wouldn’t subside.

Reaching a quiet corner of the manor, she leaned against the cold wall and slid down to the floor. Her fingers dug into the fabric of her dress as she tried to steady her breathing.

“Why does it hurt so much?” she whispered to herself, her voice trembling. She hadn’t expected Markus to declare his love, but his rejection still cut deep, leaving her feeling raw and exposed.

Valeria closed her eyes, taking a shaky breath as she tried to gather her composure. She had been through worse—she told herself that over and over. But as much as she tried to push the pain aside, it lingered, gnawing at the edges of her resolve.

Back in the room, Markus remained on the bed, staring at the shards of the vase scattered across the floor. He thought of Valeria walking away, her tears glistening in the soft light, and it made his chest tighten uncomfortably.

“Why does she care so much?” he muttered to himself, his voice thick with frustration. He hated how vulnerable she made him feel, how she stirred emotions he had spent years trying to bury.

His mother’s words echoed in his mind: Talk to her. She’s your wife. She deserves your kindness.

Markus scoffed, shaking his head. “Kindness won’t fix this,” he said bitterly, but the hollow feeling in his chest persisted.

For the first time in a long while, he felt unsure of what to do. The walls he had so carefully built around himself were starting to crack, and he wasn’t sure if he could hold them up much longer.

He leaned back against the headboard, closing his eyes. The sound of the shattered vase was gone, but the silence that followed was even louder, leaving him alone with the consequences of his words and the emptiness they left behind.