WHERE LIGHT MEETS DARK CHAPTER 5

The sun's rays flowing from the great windows of the hotel lobby poured onto the marble floor like golden rain. Lily sat very still on one of the soft armchairs, her hands folded neatly over her knees. She looked precisely the picture of a demure, dutiful bride: soft features that framed the gentle waves of her hair; her dress modestly and impeccably cut. There was nothing of the boldness that had characterized her scant hours ago.

Vandaulf entered the lobby, walking with purpose, his face inscrutable. It was the sort of man who drew attention without doing much of anything. The sharp angles of his tailored suit cut the air around him as keenly as the edge on a fine knife. His eyes, glacial and analytical, raked over the room, paused on Lily, and passed on.

He approached her with measured steps, a faint smile playing on his lips. It was a smile that could have passed as charming to an unknowing observer, but Lily knew better—it was a performance, just like everything else about him.

"Lily," he said, his voice smooth but devoid of tenderness. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, Vandaulf," she replied softly, her tone practiced and even. "Thank you."

His lips curved slightly, though the smile never reached his eyes. "Good. It wouldn't do for my wife to look tired. People might think I’m not taking care of you."

Lily felt the sting of his words but kept her expression neutral. She had learned to endure these veiled jabs, to let them slide off her without reaction. "Of course," she murmured, lowering her gaze in submission.

"Come," he said, extending a hand toward her. "Let’s not keep everyone waiting."

Lily rose gracefully, placing her hand lightly in his. His grip was firm, almost punishing, as he led her toward the reception desk. She followed, her steps measured, her face composed. 

 To the world, they were the picture of marital harmony: the confident, powerful husband and the elegant, supportive wife.

The lobby buzzed with activity,guests checking in, bellhops wheeling luggage, and the faint clinking of china from the nearby café. But even in the chaos, heads turned as they passed. To the onlookers, Lily and Vandaulf were a striking pair, their presence commanding attention.

As they approached the concierge, Vandaulf leaned slightly towards her, speaking low enough so that only she could hear, "Smile, Lily." His tone sharpened. "You look like a ghost."

Her cheeks blushed faintly, but a polite smile went onto her lips. "Yes, Vandaulf," she whispered, her voice even though tension began to coil in her chest.

The concierge greeted them warmly, offering congratulations on their recent wedding. Vandaulf responded with polished charm, thanking the man and engaging in light conversation as though he were genuinely invested in the pleasantries. Lily stood silently by his side, nodding when appropriate, her practiced demeanor never faltering.

As they made their way to leave, Vandaulf put his hand across the small of her back lightly and moved her toward the great entrance. An outsider may think it is affectionate, but Lily knows better. She understands it to be a well-played tactic of reminding himself that he has her in tow.

Outside, sunlight welcomed them; the city pulsated to its own rhythm.Lily blinked against the brightness, her expression serene as always. Vandaulf was already scanning the street for their driver, his mind likely preoccupied with the next item on his agenda.

"You're quiet this morning," he remarked suddenly, his tone laced with irritation. "Is something wrong?"

Lily hesitated, knowing that any response could be twisted against her. "No, Vandaulf," she said softly. "I'm just tired."

"Tired?" he repeated, his voice sharpening. "You have one job, Lily. To be the perfect wife. And you’re telling me you’re too tired for that?"

Her heart clenched, but she kept her tone measured. "I didn’t mean to—"

"Don’t make excuses," he interrupted, his gaze hard. "You’re representing me now. Every time someone looks at you, they’re judging me. Do you understand that?"

"Yes, Vandaulf," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Good," he said brusquely. "I accept nothing but perfection, Lily. "

They stayed there in an unmoving silence. The tension in the air had almost a visual quality to it. Lily felt she could hardly lift her gaze from the grass she was contemplating, her fists clenched as if in anticipation of some other blow. Her ears would absorb the weight of his scrutiny. She could hear the cold judgments in his glance.

"You're lucky, Lily," he said after a minute, his voice low and cruel. "Lucky that I chose you. Most men wouldn't have bothered with someone like you. Too meek, too forgettable. But I saw potential. I gave you a chance."

Lily's chest tightened, but she forced herself to remain still, to keep her expression neutral. "Thank you, Vandaulf," she said, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her.

He scoffed, shaking his head. "Don’t thank me, Lily. Just do your job."

The driver pulled up to the curb then, and Vandaulf gestured for Lily to get in first. She obeyed, sliding into the back seat of the car and settling into her seat. Vandaulf followed, his presence filling the space with an oppressive weight.

As the car pulled away from the hotel, Lily looked out the window, her face serene. But under the surface, something was smoldering. The bold Ina of the previous night lingered in the back of her mind, watching, waiting. She could feel the fire within her, tamped down but not extinguished.

Maybe Vandaulf thought he had her cornered and all, but she was actually thinking about all that brewed under the stillness.

He looked at her then, not giving a thing away. "You're rather quiet," he observed, his tone close to sarcastic. "Are you sulking?"

"No, Vandaulf," she replied softly but firmly. "I am only thinking."

"Thinking?" he said with amusement dancing through his tone. "Lily, that is dangerous. You should let others do the thinking for you."

Her jaw tightened, but she forced herself to remain composed."Indeed!" she said with simplicity.

He smirked smugly at her answer and turned back to his phone. Lily watched him at the corner of her eyes, wild with thoughts. She played her role to perfection like she always did. Nevertheless, deep down, she knew it could not go on eternally. 

The black car sailed through the iron gates of the Carlston estate, its polished exterior glistening in the midday sun. A sprawling house, testament to old money and tradition, loomed ahead with its magnificently grand facade set between well-tended gardens. Lily sat rigidly in her seat, hands blandly tucked in her lap, quite a picture of decorum. Inside, however, her mind was a chaos of thoughts. 

Next to her, Vandaulf scrolled through his phone, his attention entirely elsewhere. He barely glanced up as the car came to a smooth stop at the entrance. A liveried attendant opened the door for them, bowing slightly as Vandaulf stepped out.

"Come," Vandaulf said curtly, barely looking at Lily as he extended a hand to help her out of the car.

She accepted it with practiced grace, her expression serene. They were greeted immediately by Helen Carlston, Vandaulf's mother, who stood waiting at the top of the grand staircase leading to the entrance. Her sharp eyes took in every detail of Lily, from the modest cut of her dress to the slight hesitation in her step.

"Welcome home," Helen said, her tone clipped but polite. Her gaze lingered on Lily for a moment longer, assessing, calculating. "Lily, you look. rested."