Chapter 2 – The Child Between Them

Saturday mornings were the only time the mansion felt… alive.

Not because of Sylus.

Not because of the staff.

But because of a small pair of footsteps that echoed through the halls.

Arwan.

Zaelina stood at the top of the staircase, her fingers lightly gripping the railing as she watched the front doors open.

A little boy stepped in, his tiny hand held by the housekeeper. Big curious eyes, soft curls falling over his forehead, and a hesitant smile that didn’t quite reach his face.

He looked around carefully like this place wasn’t home.

Because it wasn’t.

Behind him stood Sylus.

And for the first time since their marriage

Zaelina saw something different in her husband.

His expression softened.

It wasn’t obvious. Most people wouldn’t even notice it. But Zaelina did. She noticed everything about him.

The slight drop in his shoulders.

The way his voice lost its edge.

The way his eyes… warmed.

“Arwan,” Sylus said, crouching slightly.

The boy hesitated for a second.

Then ran into his arms.

Zaelina’s heart clenched.

Sylus lifted him effortlessly, holding him close—carefully, like he was something precious. Something irreplaceable.

“Did you behave this week?” Sylus asked, his voice quieter than she had ever heard it.

Arwan nodded proudly. “Mama said I was good.”

That word.

Mama.

Zaelina looked away.

She didn’t belong in this picture.

Not really.

“Come,” Sylus said, carrying the boy inside. “You’ll stay here today.”

That was how every weekend went.

Arwan came.

Stayed.

Left.

And every time he left

The mansion went back to being empty.

But slowly… something changed.

Zaelina found herself sitting beside him during lunch.

At first, it was accidental.

Then… it became routine.

“What’s your name?” Arwan asked one afternoon, tilting his head innocently.

Zaelina smiled softly. “Zaelina.”

He frowned. “That’s long.”

She laughed quietly. “Then you can call me Zae.”

He thought for a second. Then nodded seriously.

“Okay, Zae.”

Something warm spread through her chest.

From that day on

He followed her.

Into the kitchen.

Into the garden.

Into the living room where she read books in the afternoon sunlight.

And for the first time

Zaelina didn’t feel alone.

“Zae, look!” Arwan ran toward her one evening, holding a poorly drawn sketch.

She crouched down, smiling. “What is it?”

“It’s us,” he said proudly.

She blinked.

There, in messy crayons, were three figures.

A tall one.

A small one.

And one in the middle.

“You drew me?” she asked softly.

He nodded. “You’re nice.”

Her throat tightened unexpectedly.

That night, when Sylus came into the room, Zaelina was still holding the drawing.

He noticed.

“Where did that come from?”

“Arwan made it,” she said, her voice softer than usual.

Sylus took the paper, his eyes scanning it.

Something unreadable passed through his expression.

Then he placed it back beside her.

“Don’t get attached,” he said flatly.

Her heart dropped.

“He’s just a child,” she replied quietly.

“He’s my child,” Sylus corrected, his tone sharper now. “And he has a mother.”

Zaelina’s fingers tightened around the edge of the bed.

“Yes,” she whispered. “He does.”

Silence filled the room again.

Heavy. Familiar.

That night

He touched her again.

But something was different.

It wasn’t just roughness.

It was frustration.

His hands gripped tighter.

His kisses burned harsher.

As if something inside him was unsettled.

Zaelina gasped softly as he pinned her beneath him, her fingers curling into the sheets.

“Sylus…”

But he didn’t stop.

Didn’t slow down.

Didn’t soften.

And when it was over

He turned away again.

Like always.

But this time

Zaelina didn’t reach for him.

She just lay there, staring at the ceiling, one thought echoing in her mind

Why does he only feel alive when he’s hurting something?

Weeks Later

Arwan’s visits became the only light in her life.

She started cooking for him.

Reading to him.

Tying his shoelaces when he struggled.

And slowly

He started waiting for her.

Not Sylus.

Her.

“Zae!” he shouted one day as soon as he entered.

Sylus noticed.

Of course he did.

He noticed everything.

His eyes lingered on them longer that day.

On the way Arwan held her hand.

On the way she smiled soft, genuine, real.

Something unfamiliar stirred in his chest.

Not anger.

Not exactly.

Something darker.

Something deeper.

That night, when he entered their room, he didn’t touch her immediately.

He just watched her.

Zaelina looked up, confused.

“What is it?”

His voice came low.

“You like him.”

She blinked. “Of course I do. He’s”

“My son,” Sylus cut in.

She held his gaze this time.

“Yes. Your son.”

A pause.

Then

“He likes you too much,” Sylus said quietly.

Her chest tightened.

“He’s just a child, Sylus.”

His eyes darkened slightly.

“And you’re my wife.”

Something about the way he said it

Possessive.

Low.

Dangerous.

Made her breath hitch.

And before she could respond

He pulled her toward him.

This time

Not out of anger.

Not out of habit.

But something else.

Something he didn’t understand yet.

And that…

Was far more dangerous.

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