The air in the hallway felt heavy as David finally pushed open the door to Elara's room and entered without knocking. The dim bedroom light fell on Elara, who was sitting on the window frame, looking out into the darkness.
"We need to talk," David said, his voice tense yet carrying an undeniable urgency.
Elara turned slowly. "I'm tired, David. Tomorrow's hearing—"
"Tomorrow's hearing is one thing. We are another," David cut in, moving closer. His possessive aura seemed to fill the room. He stopped right in front of her, blocking her view outside. "It's been too long, Elara. Too long you've been distant. Too long we've felt like strangers."
Elara took a breath, her chest tight. She knew where this was heading. She could see the fire in David's eyes—a fire born not of warmth, but of a desire to possess, to dominate, to reclaim what he felt slipping away.
"You are my wife," David whispered, softer now but no less dangerous. His hand cupped Elara's cheek. "I am your husband. And I've missed you."
His touch should have been warm, but what Elara felt was cold. Her mind flashed back to David's confession about Natasha. These same hands… once touched another woman in ways meant only for me. A wave of nausea suddenly rose in her stomach.
But beneath the nausea was another, quieter voice—one she had listened to all her life, a voice about duty, about what was expected of a wife. He is your husband. You chose to come back. This is part of that bond.
"David, I…" Elara tried to protest, but her words stuck.
"No 'buts'," David interrupted, leaning in closer. His breath was warm against her skin. "We are one. You belong to me. And I belong to you."
The words should have been romantic, but they sounded like a curse. Belong. As if she were an object, property to be reclaimed.
David did not wait for her consent. His hand moved from her cheek to the back of her neck, pulling her into a deep, demanding kiss. Elara stiffened for a moment before her body went limp—not with passion, but with bitter resignation. She closed her eyes, letting David lead her to the bed.
---
In the quiet of the room, lit only by a bedside lamp, David affirmed his claim with every touch, every whisper. "You're mine, Elara. Only me. Always me."
Elara lay beneath him, her eyes open, fixed on the ceiling. She fulfilled her duty as a wife—her body was present, responding as needed, but her mind drifted far away. Every time David's hands touched her skin, the image of those same hands touching Natasha flashed through her mind. Every time David whispered words of ownership, her heart screamed silently in denial.
My body may be here, but my soul… my soul is still my own, she thought, as quiet tears streamed down her temples, absorbed by the pillow.
David, too lost in his attempt to reunite them through physical intimacy, did not notice those tears. To him, this was reclamation. This was how he erased Kael's shadow, how he affirmed that Elara was his, completely and forever.
But in Elara's heart, this night only drew a sharper boundary. Each "mine" from David felt like another nail pushing her further away. She realized something terrifying: that she could fulfill the duty of her body, while her heart—with all its longing for Kael, all its wounds from David's betrayal—remained hidden somewhere David could never reach.
When David finally fell asleep beside her, exhausted and satisfied, Elara turned her back to him. She hugged herself, feeling an emptiness deeper than ever before.
David might claim her as his alone. But in that moment, in her silent solitude, Elara knew one truth: her body could be claimed, but her soul and heart would never fully belong to David again. And that was the last part of herself she had managed to preserve—an inner fortress no one's claim could ever capture.