Kidnapped - A Beautiful Blessing

A hush settled between them as Léa exhaled, her fingers tightening around the rim of her glass. A quiet sort of bravery filled her eyes, pushing her to speak—words long buried beneath scars that never truly faded.

"You know," she began, her voice barely above a whisper, "when he captured me, he was cruel. So cruel that, for a long time, I couldn't see anything beyond my own suffering." She swallowed hard, forcing herself to continue. "He wouldn't let me go anywhere or do anything on my own. I was a prisoner, not just in his house but in my own body."

Sasha watched her, silent.

"And the worst part," Léa's voice wavered, but she pressed on, "was the night he took what wasn't his to take. He forced himself on me, and with that, he stole something I never got to offer freely." She let out a shaky breath. "It hurt—physically, yes—but more than that, it created this hollow place inside me. A place where nothing good could grow. I was lost in it, in the emptiness. There was no light, no escape. I thought that was how my life would remain—forever bound to a man I despised."

Sasha's grip on her own drink tightened. She didn't know whether she wanted to reach for Léa or recoil from the weight of her words.

"But time… time does strange things to people," Léa continued, her gaze dropping to the table. "Somehow, through it all, we found something—something I never expected." Her lips curved, not in joy, but in something softer, something distant. "He changed. Or maybe I did. Maybe we both did. I started seeing pieces of him that weren't sharp edges and chains. He started seeing me as more than just something to own." She paused, exhaling as if letting go of something invisible. "And somewhere along the way… we fell in love."

Sasha's chest tightened.

Léa turned her head then, her gaze locking onto Sasha's as she said, "Love is like this. It just happens. It doesn't ask for permission. It doesn't always make sense. It has nothing to do with the past or even the person themselves. It just… is."

Silence stretched between them, filled only by the muffled sound of music in the background. Sasha tried to comprehend it, but her mind rebelled. Love didn't erase the past. Love didn't undo wounds. Love didn't justify what had been done.

Léa took a slow breath, her fingers grazing the stem of her glass. "His love made me feel something I never had before," she admitted. "It made me… alive. Not bound to fear, or sadness, or even my own thoughts. It set me free in ways I never imagined."

Sasha's voice broke through the air, sharp and unyielding.

"Do you feel safe with him?"

Léa didn't hesitate. She nodded.

Sasha's jaw tensed. "Even after he raped you?"

Léa's expression didn't falter. "It doesn't matter to me now."

Sasha felt something cold grip her chest. "What...?"

She never got to finish.

The air shifted as two figures entered the room—Darius and Léon.

Darius's gaze went straight to Sasha, his expression unreadable, a mask of quiet intensity. She, in turn, refused to meet his eyes, staring instead at her drink as though it held answers.

Léon, however, walked to Léa without hesitation. He sat beside her, and the warmth that spread across her face was immediate, as if the weight of their past had already been lifted.

"Did you not drink too much?" Léa asked, her voice laced with playful accusation.

Léon smirked. "No. I only had two glasses."

Léa's lips curled in amusement. It was an unspoken agreement between them—one that had been forged through an incident neither of them wished to repeat.

There had been a time when Léon had lost himself to alcohol, drinking recklessly to escape whatever demons clawed at his mind. One night, he passed out in his car. The driver had managed to get him home, but Léon barely made it past the corridor before collapsing.

Léa had grown restless waiting for him, her frustration bubbling into concern. She called him, and when she heard his ringtone from down the hall, she followed the sound—only to find him lying on the floor, unconscious.

Shards of a broken vase littered the ground beside him, and when she had changed his clothes, she discovered fresh bruises along his arm. It wasn't the first time, but it was the last straw. She hadn't spoken to him the next morning, her anger simmering beneath her silence. And when he finally asked what was wrong, she exploded.

That day, he promised her he would drink mindfully.

And he had kept that promise.

Léon leaned in slightly. "Do you think we should dance? Or would you rather go home?"

Léa smiled, slipping her hand around his arm, her touch instinctive. Léon's lips quirked in response—subtle but real. Without another word, they rose, moving towards the dance floor as if drawn by an invisible pull.

Sasha watched them.

The music swelled, but to them, it was nothing more than a distant hum. They swayed, lost in their own world, the heat between them cutting through the cold, rainy night.

Léa giggled at something Léon whispered, her laughter soft and unguarded.

And Sasha sat there, watching, her mind warring with itself.

Was this love?

Or was it simply survival?

Was Léa lying to herself, mistaking comfort for devotion, or had she truly found something within the ruins of their past?

Sasha didn't know.

She wasn't sure she ever would.

Love, she realized, was not just about happiness. It had teeth. It could break a person before it healed them. Its power was both devastating and beautiful, necessary yet cruel.

And sometimes, love didn't come from a place of light.

Sometimes, it was born in the dark.

"Did you two talk?"

Darius's deep voice cut through the quiet night. His gaze was fixed on the couple in the distance, just as Sasha's was.

She hummed in response, offering no further explanation. The cold air brushed against her damp skin, making her shiver. Darius, always observant, didn't miss the slight tremor in her frame. Without a word, he removed the dry coat draped over his arm and gently placed it over her shoulders.

Sasha turned her head slightly, her eyes locking with his. His expression was unreadable, as if he didn't care whether she accepted the gesture or not. Meanwhile, her own gaze held no gratitude, only silent defiance.

Above them, the night sky stretched vast and endless. The full moon hung like a glowing beacon, its silver light seeping into every corner of the estate, casting soft shadows over the ground. There were no storm clouds tonight, no rain—just a cold, crisp stillness in the air.

It was past midnight now. Most of the guests had already left, disappearing into the night, while a handful remained—drunken figures slumped over tables and chairs, lost in their intoxicated slumber.

Sasha barely noticed them. Her attention remained on the moon, her fingers brushing against the coat Darius had given her. The habit was ingrained in her—watching the moon, as if searching for answers hidden in its pale glow.

Darius, however, was watching her. His sharp gaze drifted over the damp fabric of her gown, still clinging to her form. Even though the chill in the air was unforgiving, she chose to keep the car window open as they drove. He didn't question it, merely switched on the heater to its maximum setting. If she was comfortable like this, he wouldn't interfere.

When they finally arrived at the house, Darius stepped out first. The grand estate loomed before them, its towering structure dark against the luminous sky. A puddle of water had formed near the stairs leading to the entrance, a remnant of the earlier rain.

Sasha attempted to lift the heavy fabric of her gown, but the soaked material was too much to gather all at once. She struggled, sighing in frustration, as the ends of the dress dragged through the water.

From the entrance, Darius watched her in silence. Then, without hesitation, he moved toward her.

Before she could react, he bent down and slid an arm beneath her knees, the other wrapping securely around her back. In one smooth motion, he lifted her off the ground, carrying her effortlessly in a bridal hold.

A small gasp escaped her lips as instinct took over, her arms tightening around his neck.

His steps were steady as he crossed the puddle, his grip firm but careful. He climbed the stairs with ease, his expression unreadable the entire time. When they reached the entrance, he set her down gently—first letting her feet touch the ground, then straightening up as she did.

Without another word, Darius stepped inside first. Sasha followed, trailing behind him as he flicked on the lights, bathing the room in a warm glow.

Darius disappeared into the washroom, leaving Sasha standing by the doorway. She exhaled slowly before pulling out her phone, absently scrolling through her messages as she wandered toward the window.

The curtains let out a sharp *scrich* as she pulled them aside. Instantly, the moonlight spilled into the room, casting a silver sheen over her face.

A notification caught her attention. A message from an unknown number.

Frowning, she tapped on it.

Her breath hitched slightly when she saw the profile picture attached. Léa and her husband.

The image was simple—Léon standing behind Léa, his arms loosely wrapped around her as she smiled broadly at the camera. His own smile was faint, almost hesitant, but it was there nonetheless.

Léa's happiness was unmistakable, glowing through the screen.

Yet, despite the warmth in the image, the same question echoed in Sasha's mind, relentless and unshaken.

**How could she love someone who had hurt her so brutally?**

Sasha stood by the window, her arms wrapped around herself as she gazed at the full moon. The silver glow bathed her face, highlighting the quiet storm within her. She was lost in thought, the weight of her emotions pressing down on her like the cold night air.

A deep, familiar voice cut through the silence from behind her.

**"Are you planning to get sick again?"**

She didn't turn around. **"Mind your own business,"** she muttered, unwilling to engage with him.

Darius exhaled sharply. **"You can't tolerate the cold, yet here you are, standing in the chilly air, practically inviting trouble."**

Sasha's lips curled slightly in defiance. **"Do you have a problem with the way I stand too?"**

His patience was already running thin. **"If I remember correctly, you fell sick after getting drenched in the rain last time. And now, after barely drying off, you're doing the same thing. What exactly are you trying to prove?"**

She turned to face him, her eyes gleaming with mischief. **"Then why did you change first?"** she accused, even though she knew it wasn't true. She just wanted to rile him up.

Darius clenched his jaw, his expression darkening. **"Don't try me right now, Sasha."**

A small smirk played at her lips, but she didn't feel like arguing anymore. She turned to leave, but before she could take a step, his voice rang with quiet authority.

**"Shut the window."**

She tilted her head, mockingly. **"Didn't you just tell me to go change?"**

Before he could reply, a sudden flash of lightning slashed through the sky, followed by a deafening crack of thunder. The sound was so fierce that her body jolted involuntarily. Her fingers trembled, and in that moment, she lost her grip on her phone. It slipped from her hands and crashed onto the floor, the screen hitting first.

Her breath hitched as another bolt of lightning illuminated the sky, followed immediately by another loud, roaring thunderclap. Without thinking, her body moved on its own—she pressed herself against Darius.

For a second, neither of them moved.

Darius could feel the rapid rise and fall of her chest, her heartbeat thudding against him like a wild drum. He didn't say a word, his gaze shifting outside. The garden was completely drenched, the soft glow of the small lamps reflecting off the wet stone pathway. Raindrops pelted the windows in an erratic rhythm, loud and relentless.

Another blast of thunder shook the air. Sasha flinched violently against him, her entire body shivering. Without hesitation, Darius lifted an arm and wrapped it around her waist, anchoring her against him.

They stood like that for a moment, wrapped in the warmth of each other's presence, the storm raging beyond the glass.

Then, as if realizing what she was doing, Sasha stiffened. She pulled away abruptly, dropping her hands from his body and stepping back.

Darius, saying nothing, turned to shut the doors and draw the curtains. She took the opportunity to flee, heading to her room to change.

Sasha rummaged through the shopping bags she had barely unpacked. Among the many clothes she had bought, she found a soft night suit. It was warm, comforting. She quickly changed into it, drying her hair roughly with a towel before stepping back into the bedroom.

Darius was already in bed, lying on his back, his eyes closed. His face was impassive, his breathing steady.

She slipped under the covers, grabbing her phone from the nightstand. The screen lit up as she swiped it on.

**"Glad no one forced upon me like last time,"** she muttered, her voice laced with sarcasm.

Darius remained still, not even bothering to open his eyes.

She turned onto her side, watching him from the corner of her eye. **"Lost interest in me already?"**

Darius groaned, his voice deep and raspy. **"Arghh..."**

Sasha grinned slightly. **"Don't you ever get tired?"**

**"No. Unlike you, I'm not old."**

Her mouth opened in mock outrage, ready to fire back, but before she could, another thunderous boom rattled the sky. She shuddered involuntarily, her body curling slightly as she clutched the phone tightly.

A sinking feeling formed in the pit of her stomach.

More thunder followed, one after another, relentless and terrifying. Her heart pounded against her ribs. She didn't even bother reading her messages anymore—she just dropped the phone back onto the nightstand.

Lightning flashed again, and a particularly violent clap of thunder sent a jolt through her body. Her fingers clenched around the duvet, pulling it up to her chin. She pressed her palms against her ears, trying to block out the sound.

For a moment, the storm seemed to quiet.

But then—another deafening crash.

Her pulse spiked. She turned swiftly onto her side, curling up as she clutched the blanket.

Darius, who had been silently observing her, finally spoke. His voice was calm, even.

**"You can come to my side if you want."**