The door closed.
Not fast. Not loud.
She just let it go slowly, holding the handle a little too long, like maybe she wasn't ready to let it go yet.
Then, she stood still. Just… stood.
Didn't move. Didn't cry. Didn't breathe too hard.
She couldn't afford to crumble. Not yet.
So she took one breath in. One out.
Closed her eyes. Counted something invisible.
The hallway was quiet.
Too quiet.
The kind of silence that didn't feel empty, but full. Like something was sitting in it. Watching. Waiting.
Even her footsteps felt like they didn't belong. Too loud, even if they weren't.
Everything else stayed silent — like the house was holding its breath with her.
She walked slowly. Not dragging her feet. Just… careful. Like if she moved too fast, something would break.
Then came the room.
She stepped in.
It used to be warm. Now it felt cold, like the air had stopped moving.
The bed was still made. Blankets untouched. Like someone was missing and no one dared to admit it.
She stared at the pillow, like she could see her there. Her smile. That soft one she only gave to her.
That was the only warmth she ever let in.
And now it was gone.
Just silence again.
She wasn't crying. She told herself she wasn't.
But then a tear fell.
Just one.
And even that surprised her.
She touches the blanket. Fidgets with the edge, like she used to.
Her eyes wander. The same walls. The same window.
It used to feel warm in here. Safe.
It doesn't anymore.
She used to lie there beside her. Just the two of them.
It was the only time she could breathe.
Now the air feels cold.
...
The room behind her still smelled faintly of warm . But Eliza didn't look back.
She walked back through the hallway — slow, steady steps, the kind that kept her from shattering. The silence around her wasn't peaceful. It was too loud. It wrapped around her like fog, pressed in against her ears, like the world was holding its breath.
She reached the door.
Her hand lingered on the handle again, just like before. But this time, it turned without hesitation.
She opened it.
The Duke was still standing there. Exactly where she'd left him. Like he hadn't moved an inch. Maybe he hadn't dared to. His eyes snapped up when he saw her. For a second, he just stared — unsure, surprised. And then... hope. Barely a flicker. But it was there. Like something had been handed to him, something he never thought he'd be allowed to hold again.
Eliza looked at him. Her face was unreadable. No softness. No anger. Just... cold.
Then, quietly — too calmly — she said,
"Your Grace. Come in."
The words hit like ice.
The Duke scrambled to his feet, almost clumsy, almost desperate, like a boy trying to undo a punishment before it was too late.