Chapter 2: The Silent War

Chapter 2: The Silent War

The ceremony had been a sterile, mechanical affair. The air in the grand hall had been thick with the weight of expectations, not joy. The Caldwell family had spared no expense, yet the extravagance failed to mask the absence of warmth.

Maya stood opposite Ethan, her hands trembling slightly as she held his. His touch was cold, indifferent, matching the chill in his steel-gray eyes. His jaw clenched as if each word of the vows was a thorn cutting into his pride.

“I, Ethan Caldwell, take you, Maya Anand.” His voice was steady but devoid of emotion.

Maya swallowed hard; her throat dry. She repeated her vows, her voice low but clear. Each syllable tasted like surrender.

When the officiant declared them husband and wife, Ethan didn’t so much as glance at her. Instead, he turned his wheelchair sharply, motioning for the staff to follow him out of the hall. Maya, left standing alone at the altar, felt the silent stares of the guests prickling her skin.

The drive to Ethan’s mansion was suffocating. Neither spoke a word, and the tension was so thick it could have snapped with a whisper.

When the car finally pulled into the sprawling estate, Maya stepped out, her heels clicking on the cobblestone driveway. The mansion loomed ahead, a gothic masterpiece that seemed to exude a cold, unwelcoming energy.

An older man with a stiff posture opens the door for them. His gaze lingers on Ethan for a moment, softening before flashing over at Maya without the slightest interest.

"This way," Ethan mumbled, wheeling himself inside without waiting for her.

The interior of the mansion was no more inviting than its exterior. Though richly furnished, it felt empty, as though it had been abandoned long before its occupants left it. The staff bustled about, but their movements lacked warmth. Maya noticed the way they avoided looking directly at Ethan, their glances a mixture of pity and something unspoken.

“Your room is down the hall, to the left,” Ethan said brusquely, barely glancing her way.

Maya raised a brow. “My room?”

He stopped his wheelchair and turned slightly. “What, did you expect we’d be sharing one?”

She crossed her arms, her own temper flaring. “Of course not. I wouldn’t dream of imposing on your precious space.”

“Good,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

Maya spent the first evening wandering through the mansion, trying to familiarize herself with its labyrinthine layout. She paused at a large painting of the Caldwell family hanging in the main hall. Ethan, standing tall and confident, was at the centre. His younger self exuded charisma, a stark contrast to the bitter man she had met.

A voice startled her.

“Admiring the past, are we?”

Maya turned to see Ethan, his wheelchair gliding silently over the polished floor.

“I was just. looking,” she said, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

He scoffed. “Don’t bother. That version of me doesn’t exist anymore.”

Maya’s gaze hardened. “Only because you’ve chosen to let him die.”

The sharpness of her words caught him off guard. For a moment, his expression softened, but it was fleeting.

“Don’t pretend to know me,” he snapped. “You’re just here because my family needed a convenient pawn.”

“And you’re so much more than a pawn?” she shot back, stepping closer. “You’re sitting here wallowing in self-pity, blaming everyone else for your misery.”

Ethan’s jaw tightened. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Perhaps not," Maya said, her voice level, "but I do know this: you're more scared of living than you are of failing."

She spun on her heel and walked away, leaving him staring after her with his fists clenched.

In the following days, she and Ethan were at each other constantly. Ethan seemed intent on provoking her at every turn, and she refused to take the bait.

One evening, Maya ventured into Ethan’s study, looking for a book to read. What she found stopped her in her tracks.

Stacks of medical journals and physical therapy manuals were piled on one side of the room, gathering dust. A set of weights and resistance bands lay abandoned in the corner.

“Didn’t anyone teach you to knock?”

Maya spun around to see Ethan at the doorway, his eyes narrowing.

“I wasn’t—”

"Spare me the excuses," he interrupted, wheeling himself into the room. "What are you doing here?"

"I was looking for something to read," she said defensively.

"Well, you've found my little collection of failures. Congratulations."

"Failures?" Maya gestured to the equipment. "You were trying to get better. That's not failure."

Ethan laughed bitterly. "Trying doesn't count for much when you still end up like this."

"Maybe if you'd stuck with it—"

"I don't need a lecture from you," he snapped. "You don't know the first thing about what I've been through."

Maya's eyes flashed. "And you don't know the first thing about me, but that hasn't stopped you from judging me since the moment we met."

The air between them crackled with tension. Finally, Ethan turned his chair away. "Just stay out of my study."

The days passed in a blur of cold exchanges and icy silences. The staff seemed to sense the hostility, their glances growing more wary.

Then, one afternoon, Ethan’s mother arrived unannounced.

“Maya,” Mrs. Caldwell said, her tone as frosty as her gaze. “I trust you’re settling in.”

Maya forced a polite smile. “I’m managing, thank you.”

Good," Mrs. Caldwell said, her lips curling into a thin smile. "I hope you understand your role here. This marriage is a business arrangement, nothing more. Don't get too comfortable."

Maya's jaw tightened. "I'm well aware of the terms, Mrs. Caldwell."

"Good," she repeated, her gaze flickering briefly to Ethan before she turned and left as abruptly as she had come.

Maya watched her go; her chest tight with frustration.

It was then evening when Maya needed some fresh air and started wandering around the mansion. She found a room she had not noticed before. It was a small sitting room. On the mantelpiece above the fireplace was one photograph.

She picked it up and read the picture of a young Ethan standing by the side of an enchanting woman. Both of them were radiant; their smiles were very genuine.

Turning the photo over, she read the words written on the back: “My only light – Amelia.”

Her heart sank. Who was Amelia? And why did the name feel like a shadow looming over everything?