The atmosphere in the family lounge was considerably less tense.
Or at least, it would have been if anyone present had been paying attention to their surroundings.
Sunlight streamed through the expansive windows, illuminating the pale upholstery of the sofas and the polished surfaces of the low tables. Beyond the glass, the gardens stretched across the estate in carefully maintained layers of green, with the occasional movement of a gardener visible between the hedges.
The room was warm, comfortable, and quiet enough for conversation.
Unfortunately, only one of its occupants seemed genuinely interested in having one.
Nikolai was seated comfortably in a lounge chair, one ankle resting over his knee as he spoke animatedly about his new girlfriend.
A famous Hollywood actress.
He had mentioned her name at least twice, explained how they had met, and was currently describing something she had apparently said to him during their last conversation.
His enthusiasm was considerable.
His audience, however, was disappointing.
Maxim sat on the sofa nearby, his attention fixed on his phone. The corners of his eyes had drawn together slightly, giving him the peculiar appearance of someone who was either deeply concerned about what he was reading or quietly delighted by it.
Every so often, the faintest hint of amusement touched his mouth.
Whatever had captured his attention, it was doing a remarkably effective job.
Rege, meanwhile, appeared to have abandoned the concept of being physically present in a conversation altogether.
He sat in another armchair, his posture controlled, his expression composed.
But his gaze remained fixed on the doors leading into the family lounge.
He had been doing that for some time.
Every time footsteps sounded somewhere in the corridor, his attention shifted toward the entrance. Every time the doors remained closed, a barely perceptible tension returned to his shoulders.
Maya was upstairs.
Asleep, hopefully.
He had left her resting after their morning together, but the moment he had stepped away from her, he had begun to feel the distance between them more acutely than he expected.
It was ridiculous, really.
He had spent years being perfectly comfortable in his own company. He could work for hours without interruption, travel for days without feeling the need to speak to anyone, and endure meetings that seemed determined to consume entire afternoons without once losing his patience.
Yet now, after barely a little time away from Maya, he was finding it difficult to concentrate on anything else.
He wanted to know whether she had woken up.
Whether she was hungry.
Whether she needed something.
Whether she had pulled the blankets over herself or kicked them away in her sleep.
Most importantly, he wanted to be beside her.
The realization did not make him move immediately.
Rege remained where he was, attempting to convince himself that he could spare a little time for his brothers.
Then Nikolai stopped speaking.
A strange silence settled over the lounge.
Rege did not notice it at first.
Maxim continued looking at his phone, his expression still faintly amused.
Nikolai looked from one brother to the other.
Then he leaned back in his chair.
"It seems neither of you is actually here."
That finally earned him a response.
Maxim lifted his head.
Rege's attention shifted away from the doors.
Nikolai gestured between them with an expression of exaggerated disbelief.
"I've been talking for the last several minutes, and I honestly couldn't tell you whether either of you heard a single word I said."
Maxim glanced at Rege.
Rege glanced at Maxim.
They exchanged a brief look.
Then both turned toward Nikolai.
And nodded once.
Nikolai stared at them.
For a moment, neither brother appeared remotely apologetic.
Then Maxim placed his phone in his pocket and rose from the sofa.
Rege stood at almost the same time.
"Unbelievable," Nikolai muttered.
Neither of them acknowledged him.
Maxim headed toward the exit with the calm indifference of a man who had already decided that whatever had been happening on his phone was more compelling than his brother's romantic updates.
Rege followed without hesitation.
Nikolai watched them cross the room.
"At least pretend you care about my happiness!"
Maxim lifted a hand in a vague farewell without looking back.
Rege did not even turn around.
The doors closed behind them.
Nikolai remained seated, staring at the entrance.
Then he burst out laughing.
"Traitors."
He shook his head, settling more comfortably into his chair.
His new girlfriend might be a famous actress, but apparently that was not enough to compete with whatever Rege had going on upstairs.
And Maxim?
Nikolai glanced briefly toward the door through which his brother had disappeared.
He would have to investigate that mysterious phone of his at some point.
For now, though, he was perfectly content to enjoy the peace his brothers had so rudely abandoned him with.
He reached for his phone and smiled to himself.
At least someone in this family knew how to appreciate a good conversation.
Rege had barely reached the corridor when he encountered Gregory.
His uncle was walking in the opposite direction, his hands tucked into his pockets, his expression thoughtful.
Rege slowed.
"Uncle."
Gregory stopped.
For a brief moment, they regarded each other in silence.
There was something about Gregory's expression that made Rege look at him a little more closely. His uncle appeared to have been thinking about something, and though his usual warmth remained, there was a quiet seriousness beneath it.
Rege wondered whether something had happened.
Before he could ask, Gregory spoke.
"Call me if she needs anything."
Rege's expression softened almost imperceptibly.
Gregory tilted his head toward the upper floor.
"I'm her doctor, after all."
The words were delivered with a faint smile, but the concern behind them was genuine.
Maya was not merely another patient to Gregory. She was a young woman whose well-being mattered to him, and he had no intention of allowing the fact that she was staying in a house full of attentive relatives to make him less mindful of her needs.
Rege understood that.
And he appreciated it more than he could adequately express.
"Thank you, Uncle."
Gregory's face brightened.
It was a small change, but unmistakable.
There was something particularly satisfying about being thanked by Rege. His nephew had never been careless with his words, but he was not a man who offered them freely either. When he expressed gratitude, it tended to be sincere.
Gregory's smile widened.
"You're welcome."
He looked as though he might continue.
Perhaps ask how Maya was feeling, inquire whether she had slept well, or make one of the harmless observations that inevitably turned into a longer conversation whenever he found himself around Rege.
Unfortunately, Rege had already resumed walking.
"Rege!"
His nephew glanced back.
Gregory opened his mouth.
Then stopped.
Rege waited for a moment.
When nothing followed, he gave him a polite nod and continued toward his room.
Gregory watched him go.
Then he shook his head, smiling to himself.
"Not even five seconds," he murmured.
He was not offended.
Not really.
He knew exactly where Rege was going, and he suspected he knew precisely why his nephew had been so distracted downstairs.
For a man who had once seemed entirely content to keep the world at a carefully managed distance, Rege was becoming remarkably easy to read whenever Maya was involved.
Gregory resumed walking, still smiling.
Perhaps he should have expected it.
After all, the most revealing changes in a person rarely announced themselves with grand declarations.
Sometimes, they appeared in the simple fact that a man who had spent his life mastering the art of restraint could no longer tolerate being away from the woman he loved.
Rege opened the bedroom door quietly.
He had expected the room to be silent.
Instead, he found himself pausing just inside the entrance, his attention immediately drawn toward the bed.
Maya was asleep.
She lay beneath the soft blankets, her body turned slightly to one side, her long dirty-blonde hair scattered across the pillow in a loose, untidy fan. A few strands had fallen across her cheek, and one hand rested near her face, the fingers curled loosely against the fabric.
The curtains had been left partly open, allowing the afternoon sunlight to enter in soft golden bands. It illuminated the edge of the duvet and caught in the pale strands of her hair, making them appear almost luminous against the pillow.
The room smelled faintly of clean linen and the delicate fragrance she seemed to leave behind wherever she went.
Everything was peaceful.
And Rege felt something inside him settle.
He closed the door carefully behind him, taking care not to let the latch click too loudly.
For a moment, he simply stood there.
He watched the gentle rise and fall of her breathing, the relaxed line of her shoulders, the tiny movement of her fingers as she shifted in her sleep.
There was no tension in her face now.
No nervous smile.
No playful attempt to hide her embarrassment when he looked at her for too long.
She was simply resting.
Comfortable enough to fall asleep in his room, surrounded by the unfamiliar luxury of the Hastings estate, with the knowledge that he would return.
That last thought affected him more deeply than he expected.
Maya had spent so much of her life having to endure things she had never deserved. She had carried pain that other people could not see, and yet she still managed to approach the world with a kind of warmth that seemed to come naturally to her.
He did not know every detail of what she had experienced.
He did not need to know every detail to understand that she deserved peace.
A life in which she did not have to fight for every moment of happiness.
A life in which she could sleep without worrying about what might happen when she woke.
A life in which someone would notice when she was tired, make sure she had eaten, and remain beside her without asking her to earn the privilege.
Rege looked at her for another moment.
Then he moved toward the bed.
He removed his shoes and set them neatly aside before easing himself onto the mattress, careful not to disturb her.
The bed dipped slightly beneath his weight.
Maya stirred.
Her brows drew together for a brief second, and she shifted against the pillow as though searching for a more comfortable position.
Rege went still.
He waited until her breathing settled again before moving closer.
Then, with the same careful gentleness he had shown her throughout the morning, he slipped an arm around her waist and drew her toward him.
Maya responded instinctively.
Still asleep, she moved closer, settling against his chest as though her body recognized him before her mind could fully awaken.
Rege's expression softened.
There it was again.
That quiet, effortless trust.
He adjusted the blanket over her and settled his arm securely around her middle, giving her enough room to move comfortably while keeping her close.
Maya made a small sound in her sleep.
It was barely more than a murmur, but it drew the faintest smile from him.
"Sleep, Krasota," he whispered.
She did not answer.
Instead, her fingers curled lightly against his shirt.
Rege looked down at her hand.
Then he lowered his head and pressed a lingering kiss to her hair.
For a while, he remained awake, listening to the quiet rhythm of her breathing and watching the sunlight slowly shift across the room.
Downstairs, the estate continued with its ordinary activities. Somewhere in the distance, a door opened and closed. Footsteps passed along the corridor, followed by the faint sound of voices that quickly faded.
But none of it mattered enough to make him move.
He had spent the better part of his life believing that control was the surest way to protect what mattered to him.
Keep his feelings contained.
Keep his expectations reasonable.
Keep enough distance between himself and the world that nothing could take him by surprise.
Maya had disrupted that understanding without even trying.
She had made him want things he had never permitted himself to want so openly.
A future that extended beyond the next obligation.
A home that meant more than a place to return to.
The ordinary intimacy of waking beside someone, hearing her laugh in the next room, and knowing that the smallest moments could become the ones he treasured most.
He wanted all of it.
Not because she had demanded it.
Not because she had promised him anything in return.
But because somewhere along the way, being near her had become the place where his mind finally grew quiet.
He brushed a strand of hair away from her face.
Maya shifted closer, her cheek resting more comfortably against his chest.
Rege held her a little more securely.
For once, he did not think about the demands waiting downstairs, the responsibilities that would eventually call him away, or the countless things he would have to manage before the day was over.
He allowed himself to remain exactly where he was.
Beside her.
With her warm against him and the soft afternoon light surrounding them, he closed his eyes.
And as the quiet settled around them, Rege pressed one last kiss to her hair.
He had no intention of waking her.
There would be time enough for everything else later.
For now, Maya was sleeping peacefully in his arms.
And that was more than enough.