Chloe hurried to Elena, who sat on the cold church floor with her wedding dress stained by dust and tears. She placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"Come on, dear. Let us take you home," Chloe whispered.
Elena did not respond. Her wide, empty eyes stared straight ahead. Her whole body trembled like she was freezing from the inside.
"Tell me this is a dream," she murmured. "Please, Chloe… wake me up. Tell me I am dreaming." Her voice cracked and fresh tears slid down her cheeks. "Please… wake me up."
Chloe's throat tightened. She wrapped her arms around Elena and pulled her close. The way Elena clung to her felt like someone holding on to their last piece of hope. Her body was limp, drained of strength.
…
When they reached home, Elena still had not spoken. She moved like a shadow, barely noticing James and Stella, her cousins who had stayed behind after the rest of the family left. They sat beside her on the couch, watching her carefully, but she showed no sign she even knew they were there.
Her mind was somewhere else entirely. It replayed the scene over and over. The gunshots. The screams. The moment Charles slipped out of her arms. The stillness of his body. It all felt unreal, like a dream she wished to wake up from, but she was trapped in that nightmare unable to change her reality.
A knock at the door broke the silence.
The police had arrived.
One of the officers stepped forward. "Ma'am, we need to ask you a few questions. Did your husband have any enemies? Was he involved in anything illegal that may have caused this?"
Elena did not answer. She sat there, staring at the floor as if she could see something hidden beneath it.
"Ma'am?" the officer tried again.
Still nothing.
Then she slowly rose to her feet. She moved toward the stairs, quiet and stiff, as if her body was being pulled by invisible strings. Halfway up, she turned to look at them.
"He was the kindest man I ever knew," she whispered. "Bring him back. Please. I do not care what it costs. Just name your price." Her voice trembled with desperation. "After you bring him back, everything I have is yours."
She glanced toward Chloe. "Help them if they need anything. I trust you can assist with that."
Without waiting for a reply, she continued up the stairs. Every step looked heavier than the one before.
Chloe stayed behind with the officers, trying her best to answer their questions. Stella sat nearby, worrying her fingers together.
"Thanks for being here for our sister," Stella whispered. "Even if she does not really know us well, we just want to help."
James did not even look up. He was busy tapping away on his phone, completely lost in a game.
Chloe gave Stella a reassuring smile. "Do not worry, dear. She will get over it. For now, make yourself comfortable in the kitchen. Fix something for her to eat."
Stella frowned. "Where are you going?"
"I have things to do, Chloe said quickly, a hint of irritation creeping into her tone like someone hiding something or avoiding a conversation. "She will be hungry soon, so just cook something and warm it for her. I will see you in the morning."
She grabbed her bag and walked out, leaving Stella staring at the closed door with a small knot of suspicion forming in her chest.
…
Upstairs, Elena lay on her bed. Her body still shook with grief. The tears rolled down uncontrollably across her cheeks as she stared at the ceiling, unable to feel anything but pain and loneliness.
Then she heard it.
"My lady."
Charles's voice echoed inside her mind, soft and familiar. It dragged her back to the very first night they met.
Chloe's birthday party. Music thumped in the background, lights flashed across the room, and people danced without a care. Elena ignored all of it. She sat at the bar, fidgeting with her drink, enjoying the peace of being alone.
Until a low, smooth voice broke it.
"What is a pretty damsel like you doing all by yourself at a bar while the rest party and dance?"
Elena slowly turned her head and gave the stranger a sharp, unimpressed look.
Charles leaned slightly over her, wearing a bright smile, his eyes filled with amusement. She kept quiet, hoping he would take the hint and walk away.
Instead, he reached out and tried to brush his fingers through her hair.
Instinct took over. She grabbed his wrist before he could touch her. "You must be joking. What exactly do you think you're doing?"
"Easy, tigress," Charles laughed, lifting his other hand in surrender. "There was a flower in your hair. I was just going to take it out."
Elena's eyes narrowed. "There is absolutely no flower in my hair."
Charles lifted his captured hand, opening his fingers. Sitting in his palm was a tiny flower.
Elena blinked. "How? Where did you even get that?"
Charles nodded toward her wine glass. She looked down and frowned. Wrapped around the stem was a small sticker with the words:
From my heart.
A tiny, surprised laugh slipped out of her.
"Nice trick," she said, shaking her head.
He chuckled. Then took a slow breath wow, she smiles. For a moment, I thought you were going to eat me alive you.
She smirked. "Oh, trust me. I still can."
His voice dropped into a playful whisper. "You are welcome to, my lady. But I warn you. I bite back."
Heat creeped into her cheeks, but she hid it behind her wine glass, sipping slowly while studying him from over the rim.
"Tell me, Charles," she said, setting her drink down. "Do you always use magic tricks to flirt with women, or am I special?"
He placed a hand over his chest. "Princess, you have no idea how precious you are."
She rolled her eyes, but her lips betrayed her with a smile.
That smile was all he needed. A small crack had opened in her walls.
Charles leaned against the bar, holding his glass of whiskey loosely between his fingers. His eyes stayed fixed on her, warm and full of mischief.
"So, my lady," he drawled, voice smooth and slow, "what haunts your dreams?"
Elena lifted her wine and took a quiet sip, her expression unreadable. "Nothing worth saying."
His grin widened. "Do not do that. A woman like you does not spend her nights tossing and turning over nothing."
She set her glass down again and tilted her head. "And what kind of woman am I?"
"The kind who thinks too much. Feels too much. And hides it too well." His gaze locked onto hers with a confidence that dared her to deny it.
Elena's lips curved into the hint of a smile. "Maybe I just prefer silence."
He leaned in slightly, close enough for her to catch the faint scent of whiskey mixed with something darker and warm.
"Silence can be very loud," he murmured. "Especially when you are trying to outrun your own thoughts."
Her fingers tightened around her glass for a moment. The wine barely shifted, but the tension in her knuckles said enough. Then she let out a small breath and allowed the moment to slide off her shoulders.
"You sound like someone who knows a thing or two about that."
Charles rested his elbow on the bar, watching her closely. Something flickered in his eyes, a mix of amusement and something darker. "Maybe. But tonight, I'm more interested in what you know."
Elena met his gaze without flinching. The air between them felt heavier, like a quiet challenge neither wanted to name. She gave him a slow smile. "Good luck with that."
Charles tipped his whiskey, swirling the amber liquid with casual ease. "Alright then. Tell me about yourself."
Elena sipped her wine before placing the glass down with a soft tap. "There's not much to tell."
"I don't believe that for a second," he said, his smirk widening.
"I'm nobody," she replied with a small shrug. "Just a clerk at some company."
Charles raised an eyebrow. "A nobody? I doubt that."
"Believe what you want."
He chuckled, shaking his head. "Fine, Miss Nobody. If you won't talk, I'll go first."
He straightened up dramatically and placed a hand on his chest like an actor on stage. "I am Charles, a humble philanthropist who dabbles in real estate."
Elena gave him a look. "A humble philanthropist? That's a new one."
"I swear I am," he insisted with a grin. "I build homes, help the needy, and charm beautiful women who pretend to be clerks."
She rolled her eyes, but her lips were already fighting a smile.
Charles lowered his voice. "So tell me, Miss Nobody. How do I find you again after tonight?"
"You don't," she said flatly, setting her glass down again.
He clutched his chest dramatically, nearly stumbling back. "Already breaking my heart? And we haven't even gotten to the good part."
Elena laughed before she could stop herself. "You'll live."
"I'm not convinced," he said. "At least give me your number so I can send you sad poems about my tragic suffering."
"No chance," she answered, smiling despite herself.
He studied her for a second, then smiled with quiet confidence. "Alright. I won't ask for your number. I'll win it."
She raised a brow. "And how do you plan to do that?"
He pointed at her glass. "Let me see that."
Curious, she handed it over. Charles slipped a napkin onto the counter, scribbled something quickly, and folded it with the precision of a man who enjoyed theatrics. He slid it under her glass with a flourish and spun the drink lightly.
"Pick it up."
Elena hesitated, then lifted the glass. The napkin revealed a neat message:
Say yes to dinner tomorrow, or risk a lifetime of regret.
She stared at it, then at him, and let out a soft laugh. "You're impossible."
"And yet you're still talking to me," he replied with a proud grin.
Elena sighed as if the universe had just defeated her. "Fine. One dinner."
Charles's smile turned triumphant. "I knew you had a soft spot for tragic poets."
She handed him her phone. "Put your number in. Before I change my mind."
He typed with way too much style for someone entering digits. "And so begins the epic tale of us."
Elena snatched her phone back. "Don't push it, Mr. Philanthropist."
He laughed quietly. "Too late, princess. See you tomorrow."
She walked away, heels tapping softly across the polished floor, the music humming behind her like a distant echo. His gaze followed her all the way to the door. And for the first time in a long while, she did not hate the attention at all.