The house was quiet after the storm of dinner, the silence almost sacred. Aria sat curled on the sofa in the dim light, her knees drawn close, fingers absently tracing the rim of her teacup. The warmth of Henry's words at the table still lingered inside her chest, mingled with fear of what her father might do.
Henry entered the room slowly, his jacket discarded, his expression unreadable. For a moment, he simply stood there, watching her. The air between them hummed with unspoken things.
Finally, he broke the silence. "You should rest."
Aria shook her head. "I wouldn't sleep."
He crossed the room, lowering himself into the chair opposite her. His gaze was steady, almost piercing, as though he were seeing her for the first time.
"You surprised me tonight," she whispered.
Henry tilted his head. "How so?"
"You… defended me. In front of them all. No one has ever done that for me before." Her throat tightened. "I didn't know you cared."
Something flickered in his eyes — pain, regret, maybe both. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Aria, there's something I need to tell you. Something I should have said a long time ago."
She tensed, her heart pounding. "What is it?"
He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "From the moment this marriage was arranged, I built walls. I thought I knew who you were. I thought you were like every other woman who's come near me."
Her brows furrowed. "Every other woman?"
Henry nodded grimly. "I grew up with wealth, with power attached to my name. It attracts people. But not for who I am — for what I own. For what I can give them. Do you know what it feels like to realize you're never truly seen? That every smile, every word of affection, has a price tag?"
Aria's lips parted, but no sound came.
"So when you came into my life, when you agreed to this marriage…" He paused, his jaw tightening. "I assumed you were no different. That you'd sell yourself into comfort, play the obedient wife, collect whatever benefits came with my name. I convinced myself that was all you wanted."
Aria's chest tightened. "That's why you were so cold."
"Yes." His voice was hoarse now, stripped of its usual calm. "I thought if I kept you at a distance, I'd protect myself. Because I couldn't bear to believe it might be real, only to find out later it was all an act."
Silence stretched between them, heavy and fragile.
Aria swallowed hard. "And now?"
Henry's gaze locked on hers. "Now… I know I was wrong."
Her breath caught.
He leaned closer, his voice soft but intense. "You told me what your life has been. How your family raised you like a pawn, how they never cared what you wanted. You let me see the bruise they left on you. You've shown me more honesty in the past two days than anyone else in my entire life." His hand curled into a fist against his knee. "And I realized… you were never like them. You were never like the others. You've been surviving. And I—" His voice broke slightly. "I treated you as if you were my enemy, when all this time you were the one suffering."
Tears welled in Aria's eyes. "Henry…"
"I'm sorry." The words spilled out, raw. "I'm sorry for every cold word, every moment I made you feel unseen. You deserved kindness. And I gave you suspicion."
Aria's vision blurred. Her whole life, she had begged silently for someone to truly see her. And now, at last, Henry was looking.
She set her teacup down with trembling fingers. "You weren't entirely wrong," she whispered. "At first… I did think of you as a way out. Not for your money, not for luxury, but because I thought maybe — just maybe — being with you could give me the life I couldn't have with my parents. A life where I could breathe. I held onto you because I had nothing else left."
Henry's eyes softened, though pain still lingered there. "And I thought you were holding onto my wealth."
Her lips trembled. "I held onto you. Not your money. Not your name. You. The man I barely knew, but who felt like my only chance at something different."
His chest rose sharply, as though her words struck deeper than he expected.
Slowly, cautiously, Henry reached across the small space between them and covered her hand with his. "I don't know if I can undo the damage I've done. But I want to try. If you'll let me."
Her tears slipped free, trailing down her cheeks. "I don't know if I can trust easily again."
"I wouldn't expect you to," he murmured. "But maybe… we can start over. Not as strangers forced together, not as enemies. Just as Henry and Aria."
She gave a shaky laugh through her tears. "Start over? While already married?"
His lips curved faintly. "Stranger things have happened."
The fragile spark of warmth in his tone made her chest ache in a way that wasn't pain. For the first time in so long, hope dared to whisper in her heart.
She tightened her grip on his hand, her voice almost a whisper. "Then let's try."