The grand doors opened with a soft groan, and Anacelia stepped inside what felt like another world entirely.
The air shifted.
It was warm, polished, scented faintly of cedarwood and something softer—jasmine, maybe. The entrance hall was vast, with dark wooden beams arching over her head like the bones of some ancient cathedral. Light spilled from an ornate chandelier, casting gold glimmers on the marble floor, which stretched endlessly in every direction.
Darius didn't wait.
Without so much as a word, he brushed past her and ascended the staircase to the left, long strides purposeful, posture rigid.
Straight to his office.
No glance back. No hand reached for hers.
Anacelia swallowed around the silence he left behind.
"Don't worry," Theo said beside her, voice low. "He's not always like that."
Before she could respond, another voice rang out from somewhere above. Lighter. Brighter.
"There you are! You brought her!"
Anacelia looked up just as a young woman came bounding down the stairs barefoot, her light sweater flapping around her like wings. She was stunning—tall and graceful, with the same dark hair as Darius but softer curls that framed a heart-shaped face. Her eyes were a stormy gray-blue, wide and curious and gleaming with mischief.
"Hi!" she said, practically bouncing into the foyer. "You must be her."
Anacelia blinked. "Um… yeah?"
"I'm Aria," she said, grinning. "Darius's little sister. And I've been dying to meet you."
She reached out, gently grabbing Anacelia's hand in both of hers like they'd been friends in another life. "You're so pretty, oh my God. Way prettier than I imagined. I mean, I imagined you'd be pretty, but you're like… princess-pretty."
Anacelia flushed, entirely thrown.
"Aria," Elira said with a quiet sigh, stepping forward, "perhaps let the poor girl breathe before you smother her with compliments."
"But she's adorable! Look at her!"
Elira ignored that, her warm hand brushing Anacelia's shoulder as she offered a small, knowing smile. "Excuse me dear" she said and Walked away
Theo winked. "Brace yourself. Aria's a hugger."
Aria threw a playful scowl over her shoulder. "I only hug nice people, Theo."
"Then why'd you hug me last week?"
"You bought me cheesecake."
Fair enough.
Aria's smile widened, dimples pressing into her soft cheeks. "I'm Aria, by the way," she said as she looped her arm gently through Anacelia's. "Your… sister-in-law, technically. Though that sounds so stiff, doesn't it? I much prefer bestie-in-training."
Anacelia blinked at her, then let out a startled laugh. "You're… not what I expected."
"Oh, I get that a lot," Aria said breezily, waving her free hand as she led her up the wide staircase. "Darius is all shadows and brooding—every room he walks into dims ten degrees. Me? I'm more of a window-throw-open, let-the-light-in kinda girl."
The house was enormous—more like a manor than a home. Marble floors, dark wooden banisters, oil paintings of stern ancestors… and yet, it didn't feel cold. Not with Aria's chatter filling the air like sunlight.
They turned a corner, and Aria dropped her voice to a dramatic whisper. "Watch your step—this hallway's a notorious slipper. Elira once nearly killed a courier here. Darius almost paid to carpet it, but it clashed with the aesthetic." She rolled her eyes. "He's got opinions."
Anacelia chuckled, her fingers brushing the smooth wood of the rail. "You really don't seem like him at all."
"Because I'm not," Aria said proudly. "I got all the charm, he got… whatever he has. Trauma, probably."
Just then, Elira reappeared at the top of the stairs. "Ah, perfect. Aria, stop terrorizing her. Anacelia, dear, come this way—your room is ready. And your personal maid is waiting."
"My… maid?" Anacelia asked, blinking. "That's… new."
"You'll like her," Aria said, steering her into the room. "Mave's adorable."
The bedroom was beautiful—high ceilings, pale gray walls with delicate silver trim, soft light from tall windows spilling onto a four-poster bed dressed in cream and gold. A small sitting area faced a carved fireplace, and fresh flowers sat on the desk.
Standing near the closet was a girl about her age, maybe a bit older, with round cheeks, honey-brown skin, and dark curly hair tied in a scarf. She had wide, excited eyes and clutched a folded stack of linens to her chest like a security blanket.
She gave a nervous curtsy. "Hello, miss. I'm Mave. I mean—Miss Mave. No. I mean I'm your maid, but you don't have to call me Miss. Just Mave. Please."
Anacelia stared at her, and then couldn't help it—she laughed again. A real one, this time.
Mave blushed furiously. "I've never done this before. I mean, I've worked here! But not for someone… so young. And pretty. And married to—well. You know."
"No, please," Anacelia said, trying to stop smiling. "Just Ana is fine. I've… never had a maid."
"Then we'll both learn together!" Mave beamed. "I already fluffed your pillows three times. Is that too much fluffing? Elira said I needed to impress you."
Aria slung herself onto the end of the bed. "She's trying very hard not to fangirl. You should've seen her practicing curtsies in the laundry room yesterday."
"I was not!" Mave squeaked.
"You absolutely were."
Anacelia smiled, her heart warming in a way she hadn't expected. Maybe this wasn't home yet—but it didn't feel so lonely now.
As Aria plopped down dramatically on the bed, Anacelia stood frozen for a moment, letting her eyes drift across the room again—this time more slowly.
It was… breathtaking.
The walls were a soft, warm shade of ivory with elegant silver detailing that shimmered slightly in the light pouring in through tall arched windows. Heavy velvet curtains in a muted shade of plum hung to either side, drawn back with silken cords. The bed was massive, four-postered and canopied in translucent white fabric that floated like clouds around the edges. A fur throw in rich charcoal gray was draped at the foot, and the plush cream pillows looked like they'd been arranged by a royal artist.
The floor was polished wood, scattered with thick rugs in deep jewel tones. There was a small fireplace carved in stone with delicate floral motifs, and a cushioned window seat nestled under one of the windows. A large wardrobe stood like a sentry in the corner, next to a door that probably led to a private bath.
It didn't feel like a room.
It felt like a place she'd seen in a dream once and forgotten.
And that was when it hit her.
This wasn't a vacation.
This was her life now.
Her chest tightened, her fingers curling slightly into the soft fabric of her skirt. I'm seventeen. I'm seventeen and I'm married. To a man I don't know. In a place I don't belong. My father handed me off like a token, and now I'm here—in a stranger's house—with people I can't figure out.
She swallowed hard, fighting the sting behind her eyes. But before her thoughts could spiral too deep, a gentle voice brought her back.
"If you want to cry, it's okay," Mave said softly, stepping closer with surprising confidence. "I mean… not that I want you to cry. But it's okay if you do. I did, when I first came here."
Anacelia blinked at her, startled.
"I missed my mum," Mave continued, setting down the linens. "And everything felt huge and perfect and… wrong. But then Elira gave me her honey tea and Aria made me laugh so hard I snorted."
"Guilty," Aria grinned. "Best stress reliever? Ugly laughter. Ask Theo. I made him cry once with a joke so bad he had to leave the room."
Anacelia let out a small laugh—barely there, but real. "You two are a lot."
"You say that like it's a bad thing," Aria said, fluttering her lashes.
Mave nodded in agreement. "You'll get used to us. And if you ever want tea or hot chocolate—or to throw something at someone—I'm very discreet."
"And I'm very available," Aria added. "Especially if you want to talk about how ridiculously good-looking my brother is, because ew, but also… fair."
Anacelia raised a brow. "You talk about your brother like he's a stranger."
Aria shrugged. "He sort of is. Emotionally, anyway. But don't worry—we'll decode him together."
Mave clapped her hands gently. "Oh! And tomorrow I'll give you a full tour, if you'd like. We have a small library, a music room, a secret stairway that nobody uses except Theo when he's hiding from responsibility—"
"Stop telling all our secrets!" Aria groaned, falling back onto the bed like she was dying.
Anacelia smiled, softer this time. The knot in her chest loosened a little. Maybe this place was still strange and confusing… but maybe it wouldn't be completely unbearable.
Maybe, just maybe, it could become something else.