The storm outside showed no signs of sleep.
Rain continued its relentless rhythm against the manor's glass windows like a thousand tiny soldiers marching across stone. Lightning slashed the sky in silver streaks, followed by deep, growling thunder that rattled the bones of the sleeping earth.
But inside the great manor… no one slept.
Not truly.
In her room on the east wing, Lady Sofia still sat curled by the window, her eyes swollen and glistening with heartbreak. She had cried quietly for hours, staring into the storm, silently whispering her prayers into the shadows. A single candle flickered behind her, its flame as fragile as her hope.
She had waited a year for a sign.. one moment of warmth, of closeness, of humanity from her husband. She had respected his silence. Respected his distance. Loved him from two meters away, silently, purely, patiently.
But not tonight.
Not anymore.
Wiping her tears with trembling fingers, Sofia stood.
"That's it," she whispered, not to the maids… not to herself .. but to their burning love…
As she opened her bedroom door, her maids leapt up from their seats outside like startled birds.
"Y-Your Grace?" Elsa blinked. "Where are you going?"
Melody stepped forward too, voice hushed, concerned, "Is something wrong?"
Sofia didn't answer.
Her steps were silent but determined as she walked down the long corridor in her nightgown and shawl. Past the creaking grandfather clock. Past the closed windows shaking in the storm. Past the study door.
She went straight to his bedroom.
Inside, everything smelled like him.
Leather and cedarwood, and that mysterious scent that lingered in his uniform whenever he passed her in the hallway.
She didn't hesitate.
She opened his closet and carefully ran her fingers over the rows of precisely folded military garments… until she found it.
The softest, warmest sleep shirt.
And matching trousers.
She clutched them to her chest like a shield.
Then turned and headed back down the corridor.
To his study.
Behind that locked study door… Jonathan was falling apart.
He lay on the leather couch, soaked clothes still clinging to his skin. His hair was damp against his forehead. His muscles were tense, chest rising and falling as though he had run a thousand miles..
But he hadn't moved.
The only storm louder than the one outside was the one inside his head.
"Why did she look like that? Why did she wait?"
"Was it sadness? Or… disappointment? Or… something worse?"
"Why do I want to take her in my arms and never let her cry again?"
He sat up suddenly.
Fists clenched.
Chest burning.
And then..
Knock knock.
A soft, almost hesitant knock at the door.
His heart dropped.
Then raced.
Then dropped again.
He stood up in one breath, as if a commander had barked an order.
He walked to the door, unlocked it…
And flinched.
Because she was standing there.
Soaked in candlelight, holding a bundle of his clothes, eyes firm but glistening.
Fearless.
Lady Sofia.
"Commander Henderson," she snapped with a sharpness that surprised even herself, "for how long do you intend to keep those rain-drenched clothes on?"
"Do you want to catch a cold, don't you?"
He stared at her, stunned.
She looked like a porcelain doll.. but one made of fire tonight.
He said nothing.
She stepped in.
He took two steps back.
She gently placed the folded clothes on his desk.
Then looked up at him with soft, vulnerable eyes.
"Jonathan…" she whispered.
"Would you… please… sleep in my room tonight?"
"Just for one night?"
"Please…"
He didn't speak.
Didn't move.
He simply pointed toward the door.
Her heart shattered.
But she nodded.
And walked away, without another word.
The moment she left… he dropped onto his knees.
His hands trembled.
His chest ached.
Her soft, tearful "Please" echoed in his soul like a dying song.
And then…
He heard it.
Through the thick door…
Through the corridor…
Her sobs.
Muffled. Fragile.
But real.
And it nearly killed him.
Thirty minutes later…
The storm had calmed slightly.
But in Sofia's heart, the thunder still roared.
She lay curled in her large bed, back to the door, candle barely flickering on the bedside table. Her pillow was damp from silent tears. Her eyes swollen and tired. Her hands clutched the edge of the blanket like a child bracing herself against a nightmare.
"Just one night… was that too much to ask?"
She thought she'd never fall asleep.
She thought he wouldn't come.
So when she heard the softest creak of the bedroom door…
She didn't dare believe it.
She froze.
Still facing the wall.
Still pretending to sleep.
But her heart began racing as she heard his hesitant steps.
One... two… pause.
Breathe.
Three… four… slow.
She could feel his presence.
Smell the soft scent of his fresh clothes.. lavender soap and warmth.
The same scent she always caught in the corridors, in his abandoned jackets, in shirts she secretly hugged when no one was looking.
He stood by the bed for a full minute.