The house had gone quiet.
Outside, the crickets sang beneath a silver moon, their chorus mingling with the faint rustle of trees. From the veranda, soft candlelight spilled through the open window of Eden's guest room, where she sat by the sill, hugging her knees, her thoughts lost in the dark stretch of the fields beyond.
She hadn't meant to play that long earlier. But the piano had a way of breaking her open, of letting everything she'd kept buried rise to the surface — loneliness, fear, longing. And now, after the laughter and the meal, she was left with a strange ache she couldn't name.
The door creaked softly behind her.
"You're still awake," Davin's voice said, low but steady. He leaned against the doorway, dressed in a loose black shirt, the shadows deepening the sharpness of his face. His usual stoic calm was there — but his eyes softened when they met hers.
Eden gave a faint smile. "I couldn't sleep."
He nodded once and walked toward the window, stopping a respectful distance away. "You played beautifully today."
Her breath hitched slightly — she hadn't expected him to bring it up. "I thought you didn't like it. You walked away."
"I didn't walk away because I didn't like it," he said, his tone quiet, almost hesitant. "I walked away because I… didn't know what to say. It's been a long time since I've heard something that moved me like that."
The honesty in his voice startled her more than the compliment.
"Thank you," she whispered. "Music is… the only thing that ever made me feel safe."
Silence fell between them again, filled only by the distant chirp of night insects.
Finally, Davin exhaled and folded his arms, his gaze shifting toward the moonlight spilling through the window. "We need to talk about… us."
Eden turned to him, her heart tightening. "About pretending to be your wife?"
He nodded. "Yes. About that — and about how long you'll need to stay hidden."
Eden looked down at her hands. "So it's really just a matter of security."
"For now," he said. "Your situation is still volatile. Until things are stable, you can't be seen in public. Staying here, under my name, as my wife — it keeps questions away."
She drew a slow breath. "And how long do you think this will last?"
"I don't know," he admitted. "Weeks, maybe months. Depends on what happens in your Country or until we get news from the Queen."
Eden nodded slowly, her chest tightening. "So I have to keep pretending. Smiling. Calling your parents 'Mama' and 'Papa.' Acting like this is my home."
"It's safer that way," he said. Then, more softly, "I know it's not easy."
Her eyes met his. "It's not the pretending that's hard, Davin. It's the feeling that I'll never stop pretending — that this will be my whole life. Hiding. Pretending to be someone I'm not."
Something flickered across his face — sympathy, guilt, perhaps something deeper. He stepped closer, his voice gentler. "You're not alone anymore, Eden. You may be hiding your name, but you're still you."
She searched his expression. "And what about you? How does it feel… pretending to have a wife you never wanted?"
That made him pause. He looked away for a long moment before answering.
"At first, it felt like an inconvenience," he said honestly. "An obligation. But now…" He trailed off, then looked back at her. "Now it feels like something I want to protect."
Eden's heart stumbled. The quiet sincerity in his words struck something deep inside her. "You don't have to protect me, Davin."
"Yes, I do," he said simply. "Because you're under my care — and because I want to."
She turned away, blinking back sudden warmth behind her eyes. "You really are terrible at pretending," she said softly.
That earned her the faintest curve of a smile from him. "Maybe," he said. "But I'm learning."
The air between them shifted — quieter, gentler, laced with something unspoken. For a moment, neither of them moved. Only the night filled the silence, and the moonlight lay soft and pale across the floor.
"Goodnight, Eden," Davin said finally, his voice low.
"Goodnight… husband," she teased, her tone trembling between humor and something tender.
He stopped at the door and turned his head, that small, rare smile returning to his lips. "Sleep well, my wife."
And then he was gone — leaving her heart racing, her mind torn between fear and something she dared not name.
The morning sun spilled gently across the Bryant Estate in their Hacienda, painting the fields gold. From her window, Eden could hear the distant laughter of workers preparing for the day — the neigh of horses, the hum of engines, the rhythm of a place alive and ordinary.
It almost felt peaceful. Almost.
She pressed her palms together on the windowsill and closed her eyes, letting the wind brush against her face. But the peace she felt last night was gone — replaced by that familiar ache of unease. Something inside her whispered that calm like this never lasted long.
Eden took a deep breath and turned away from the window. She slipped on a light blouse, brushed her hair loose, and made her way downstairs, following the faint sound of voices near the veranda.
That was when she heard Davin.
His tone was low, clipped — the kind of voice that held the weight of something he didn't want others to hear. He was standing by the edge of the porch, talking with Lt. Phillip, the man she'd seen yesterday.
Hidden by the half-open door, Eden paused.
"Are you certain?" Davin's voice was calm but tight.
"Yes, sir," Phillip replied. "We intercepted a message early this morning. Someone's been asking around — specifically for the girl. They might already know she's not with the Queen."
A heavy silence followed. Even from where she stood, Eden could feel Davin's body tense.
"She's not safe here anymore," Phillip added grimly.
"No," Davin said sharply. "Moving her now would be riskier. The estate is isolated — we can fortify it. I'll handle security myself."
Phillip hesitated. "Davin, you can't keep this up alone. If they've tracked her this far—"
"I said I'll handle it," Davin cut in, his voice low and final. Then, quieter, almost like a confession: "She's been through enough. I won't uproot her again."
Eden's heart pounded in her chest. Each word struck her like a stone — the danger, the possibility of being found, the idea that she was once again the reason for someone else's burden.
She stepped back, her hand brushing against the wooden frame of the door, and the slight creak made both men turn toward the sound.
"Eden," Davin said, spotting her immediately. His expression softened, though a shadow still lingered in his eyes. "You're awake."
"I… didn't mean to eavesdrop," she said softly, stepping into the light. "But I heard enough."
Phillip glanced at Davin as if asking whether he should stay, but Davin gave a small nod toward the gates. Without another word, Phillip left them, his boots crunching against the gravel.
When they were alone, Eden faced Davin. "They've found me, haven't they?"
He was silent for a moment before answering. "They're looking for you, yes. But not here. Not yet."
She swallowed hard. "Then it's only a matter of time."
"Eden." Davin stepped closer, his gaze firm but calm. "I won't let them touch you. I promise."
Her throat tightened. "You can't promise that."
"I just did."
His voice was steady, unwavering, and somehow that frightened her more than the danger itself. Because she knew — people like Davin didn't make promises lightly. And if protecting her meant putting himself in harm's way, he would.
"I never wanted to bring this to your home," she whispered. "To your family."
"And I never asked you to," he replied. "You didn't choose this, Eden. None of us did. But now that you're here… you're my responsibility."
She met his gaze — those calm, gray eyes that had seen too much and revealed too little. "You don't have to keep saying that, Davin. I'm not a mission. I'm not an assignment."
For the first time, his composure faltered. "I know," he said quietly. "That's the problem."
The words hung between them like the echo of a secret neither dared name.
Before either of them could speak again, a sharp whistle came from outside — one of the guards calling for Davin.
"Stay inside," he told her. "And no matter what happens, don't talk to anyone you don't recognize."
She nodded. "Be careful."
Davin gave her a brief, reassuring glance — but there was something else in it too. Something unspoken, something that made her heart beat faster even after he'd gone.
Eden pressed her hand to her chest, trying to still the storm rising inside her.
She had run all her life — from duty, from fear, from the truth of who she was.
But this time felt different. Because for the first time, someone wasn't running away with her… someone was standing still — for her.