"Are you like this because I climbed into your bed without your permission?" she asked with a quivering voice. "Because I held you?"
Victor lifted his head. "What?"
"You’ve not spoken to me in days," she explained. "I know what I did was wrong, but it couldn’t have been so unforgivable, I am your wife after all. I didn’t mean to cause you to have nightmares, but I was trying to help and I did."
"Alice, how could you have possibly caused my nightmares?" he questioned.
"I made you talk about your past at the ball," she said to him, fighting to keep the tears at bay but failing. "That’s why you had a terrible dream."
"I have terrible dreams every other day. It’s the reason I hate sleeping, that has nothing to do with you, and this has nothing to do with that night," he revealed.
"Then what is it?" she questioned, letting her frustration show. "I am not like you, Victor. You can easily mount your wall whenever you please but I cannot do that. My walls are already down and I cannot put them back up, and that frustrates me because I should be angry with you for playing with me like this. I am no good at it."
"Alice, let’s not do this," Victor said quietly.
"Do what?" she asked as the tears began to fall. "You’re confusing me, Victor and I don’t like to be confused. I am trying to understand you, but you keep slamming the door to your mind in my face. Why?"
Alice’s chest tightened as she watched Victor struggle to find the words. She had known him long enough to recognize the look in his eyes. That vulnerability that seldom made an appearance. She had spent so much time trying to break through, to understand the shadows that seemed to haunt him. But here they were again, facing the same closed doors, and it was tearing her apart.
Victor took a step toward her, his hand outstretched, but she instinctively stepped back.
"I am not crying because I’m hurt," she lied. "I am crying because I am angry. There’s a difference."
Victor took another step toward her, undeterred by her attempt to maintain a distance between them. His hand reached for her cheek, and he cupped her face, his fingers warm and gentle as they brushed away a tear. Alice stiffened, caught off guard, but he didn’t let go, his gaze softening as he held her face.
"I don’t like that you cry when you’re angry," he murmured, his thumb tracing along her cheekbone with a tenderness that sent a shiver down her spine.
Alice swallowed, her breath hitching as she felt herself melt into his touch despite every instinct telling her to keep her distance. He was only going to act nice to her and disappear behind his wall again.
A silence settled between them. Slowly, Victor pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her and pressing her to his chest. She sank into his embrace, her own arms winding around him as she let herself relax in his warmth. His hand stroked her hair gently, and he exhaled so deeply that she felt his body relax.
They stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the tension between them softening into something warm and unspoken. Deep down, though, Alice couldn’t shake a small, nagging fear—that this was merely a reprieve, a momentary gesture to sootheher frustration before he withdrew again. But right now, with his arms around her and his heart beating close to hers, she didn’t want to think about it.
She wanted to stay in this moment, to feel his touch without questioning it, to hold onto the rare vulnerability he was offering her. So she let herself relax into his embrace, closing her eyes and letting go, if only for now.
"If it’s not to your satisfaction, we can have the workers do it again," Victor said.
It didn’t take a lot of effort after bursting into tears for Victor to agree to the tour. If Alice had known how persuasive her tears would be, she wouldn’t have waited so long to make up with him.
Now, standing in the orangery, she felt a sense of exhilaration that washed away her earlier frustrations. A part of her was ashamed that she had been unable to control her tears, but the other part was glad she let her emotions show.
"No, it’s perfect this way," she explained. "It’s just how I imagined it."
Victor raised his eyebrows. "Are you sure?"
"I am," she beamed. "So, what do you think of all the renovations? Is there anything you want changed?"
They had spent about an hour on the tour, Alice leading Victor through the house with a mix of excitement and nervousness. After two years of living there, each room now held a piece of her heart, a reflection of her visions. She pointed out the details, the new curtains in the drawing room, the polished wood floors, the vibrant colors she had chosen for certain spaces, and why she had chosen them…
Victor had listened to her intently. At some points, she had seen approval in his eyes but never disapproval. He seemed pleased, and the thought sent butterflies dancing in her stomach.
She had saved the orangery for last because it meant the most to her. Victor was pleased with how it turned out. He had said so, and she could see it. He asked a lot of questions, all to make sure that she was satisfied with the outlook.
They were seated inside, tucked beneath a trellis adorned with climbing vines that reached toward the glass roof. Two comfortable chairs faced each other around a small table draped with a soft, embroidered cloth, a detail Alice had added for warmth and charm. The spot was designed for quiet moments, a sanctuary where she could sit and enjoy the scenery.
"I’m asking because I saw that you changed the renovations done in your room and in the study. If there is any part of the estate that you want to?—"
"I don’t want anything else changed," he said with a smile. "I’m proud of what you’ve done here. I’m proud of you, Alice."
