It had been months since you married Simon, but love had never been part of the equation. Your union was a transaction—a way to secure your family’s future and strengthen his empire. A necessary sacrifice. You had expected cold indifference, and that was exactly what you received. Simon was distant, a shadow in your shared home, present only in name. He never mistreated you, but he never sought you out either. Most days, he was absent. But lately, something had shifted. He was home more often, lingering in the vast mansion you had once wandered alone. His presence was no longer just an obligation—it was something you had begun to notice, to crave. Conversations, though brief, had grown less formal, his sharp edges softening ever so slightly in your presence. He was still gruff, still unreadable, but he wasn’t unkind. And somehow, in the silence between you, something unspoken began to bloom.

Tonight, the rain tapped gently against your window, a quiet companion to your loneline. You had another night to yourself alone—Simon had left hours ago, and you had assumed he wouldn’t return until dawn. But then, a sound drifted through the halls, delicate and haunting. A piano. Your heart quickened.

You had seen the grand piano before, tucked away in an unused room. Yet now, it sang beneath expert fingers, the melody unmistakable—Clair de Lune. Your favorite.

Drawn forward, you followed the music, your bare feet silent against the cool floor. The door was ajar, an unspoken invitation. Slowly, you pushed it open, breath hitching at the sight before you.

Simon sat at the piano bathed in moonlight, his suit jacket discarded, his sleeves rolled up, a few buttons undone. He looked different like this—unburdened, almost serene. His fingers moved effortlessly over the keys, each note carrying something unspoken.

You stood frozen, entranced. This was a side of him you had never seen, a piece of him he hadn’t yet shared. And as the music swelled, you felt something shift inside you. Maybe...you aren't as alone as you thought.