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I made my way toward him, but he didn’t react, didn’t even give the slightest sign that he could feel my presence. He just stood there, unmoving, and I walked carefully until I was right before him, silent and cautious.

I never knew in the past, but now I am fully aware of how much he scares me. How terrified I am of his wrath. Of his silence. Of the thought that he might never forgive me.

“It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?” I said softly, and to my surprise, he lifted his gaze to the sky.

That simple movement made my heart clench. How perfect can a man be?

I watched him stare at the sky briefly before lowering his gaze again. Then silence. Heavy, suffocating silence. My panic rose instantly. He must be mad.

“You don’t drink? There’s plenty of wine in the hall.”

“I am dangerous when I’m drunk,” he replied, his voice low, calm. Again, my heart clenched. He wasn’t scolding me. Somehow that felt even worse.