Jay learned early that silence could be louder than words.
The mansion was always awake—footsteps echoing down marble corridors, servants moving with practiced precision, doors opening and closing—but none of it ever reached her. Not really. She lived in the quiet corners of it, where her presence didn't matter.
She was Jax's wife.
And yet, every morning, she woke up alone.
Jax never waited for her at breakfast. His seat at the long dining table was either already empty or never meant for her. Sometimes she would hear his voice from another room—calm, commanding, distant—talking business, power, numbers that shaped the world outside these walls. He never once turned his head to see if she was listening.
Not once did he ask if she'd slept well.
Jay moved through the mansion carefully, like she was afraid of leaving fingerprints behind. She wore simple clothes, soft colors, nothing that would draw attention. Not because anyone asked her to—but because she knew attention wasn't meant for her.
When Jax passed her in the hallway, his eyes slid over her like she was part of the décor. Not rude. Not cold. Just… empty. As if she was someone he had already decided didn't matter.
"Good morning," she said once, quietly.
He didn't stop walking. Didn't answer. Maybe he didn't hear her. Or maybe he did—and chose not to.
Jay stopped saying it after that.
She wasn't his type. Everyone knew that. The women who belonged in Jax's world were sharp-tongued and confident, dressed in bold colors, unafraid to stand beside him. Jay was none of those things. She was gentle. Soft-spoken. A girl who believed love didn't need to be loud to be real.
But Jax had never even tried to see her.
At night, she lay on one side of the massive bed, leaving space between them that never seemed to shrink. Jax came in late, smelling of cologne and distance, slipping under the sheets without a word. No goodnight. No glance. Sometimes he didn't even face her.
Jay would stare at the ceiling and remind herself not to hope.
She didn't ask for love.
She didn't ask for touch.
She didn't even ask to be wanted.
She only wanted to feel like she existed.
But in Jax's world, she was just a name on paper. A wife in title. A stranger in reality.
And so Jay learned how to breathe in a house where no one noticed if she stopped.