ACT I—the stillness
The house stood still. Even the cat moved carefully, head swiveling across the room at nothing I could see. It was almost twilight and what was left of the sun crept through the windows and animated the shadows in our home.
The estate was grand, timeworn, and unyielding.
It was left to Ezra six months ago when his grandfather passed—an inheritance earned by being the oldest of eight grandchildren and the only male one at that. My husband would be home soon.
Before we moved here, I loved my job as a freelance publisher—it meant lazy days and staying at home when there were no clients—but days on this estate were too long without Ezra.
Kyoto’s purr against my leg broke the spell I was in and I found myself walking toward the washroom. I stared into the mirror.
My dark eyes were sunken in and my blonde curls were lifeless. I grabbed a concealer stick and blotted some over the hollow spots underneath my eyes. When was the last time I slept?
I couldn’t tell Ezra, but I loathed being here. This house was not a home. It was too empty and too full, all at the same time. Still— Ezra loved it— I would learn to love it.
I flipped on the faucet of the pedestal sink and picked up the soap bar, scrubbing the makeup from my fingers.
Ezra’s grandfather passing meant roles in the family company had shifted. He now oversaw the ‘strategic compliance’ department. I wasn’t sure what that meant besides coming home past 10:00PM every other night—which was much too late for my liking.
My most reliable companion, besides Kyoto, was the silence. It kept me company, even in the dark, while Ezra worked to improve his company and our lives.
I pinched my cheeks, eyes lingering on my reflection as I watched blood pool in my white skin.
The creak of the double-leaf doors at the foyer pulled me from the mirror. He was home. My stomach flipped. We’d been married two years and the butterflies he gave me were still there. Strong. Perhaps that’s why I hated this estate— its largeness made the absence of his presence louder. I gave myself one last look and tugged my black lounging robe taut around my body, leaving the washroom and heading to the front door.
A gust of winter bit through the door at my skin as Ezra stepped through. I stood waiting to greet him but he didn’t look at me. I cleared my throat but my attention was pulled to a small, black box in his hands. Moving closer to him, I reached for the box in an effort to help him settle in. He pulled back. He finally looked down at me, gazing past blond hair that dusted his forehead and with blue eyes that looked almost as tired as mine.
He pulled me into him before I could ask about the box and I relaxed into him as he leaned down to kiss my cheek. Kyoto’s loud hiss brought me back from the temporary haze I’d inhabited. Ezra let go of me and walked toward the grand staircase where our gray cat stood staring.
“Christ, Kyoto it’s just me,” Ezra eyed our cat. Kyoto could be aloof but she was never aggressive.
Ezra set the box down on the bottom step and moved to finish removing his coat and shoes. As he put them away, another hiss came from Kyoto’s direction. She was in a trance—swatting at the box violently and unprovoked. My eyes followed Ezra as he scooped both the box and our cat without hesitation, one in each hand.
“Bad kitty,” he said, gently, stroking her chin.
When Ezra was present, he was gentle.
I followed behind him as he moved up the staircase and down the wide, dimly lit hallway toward his office. Reaching for the door, he slid into the room and put Kyoto down on the floor near the ticking grandfather clock. He placed the box on a small bookshelf.
“Come sit, Charlotte.” The sound of my name leaving his lips was almost too pleasant. I removed my focus from the box and Ezra was slumped lazily in his chair. His gaze met mine, pulling me forward to him until I found myself sitting in his lap. He nuzzled his hair into my neck.
“I missed you, you know. I always miss you,” I stared off at the grandfather clock across the room, focusing on the sound of the pendulum striking the lever as I spoke and realizing I hadn’t used my voice all day as my throat cracked. “It seems like the days are longer and the monsters are much more real here without you to chase them away. I wished you’d take some time off. Shouldn’t you be able to do that now since the promotion?” I asked, desperate for an answer I knew he wouldn’t give.
Ezra lifted his head. “You know I can’t do that Charlotte,” he said blankly.
I did. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted the black box again. Five steps and I was out of his lap and on my way to get a closer look. I grabbed it—feeling its cool, smooth texture—I realized that it wasn’t a box as much as some kind of cube, heavier than it should’ve been for its size and it looked like it didn’t open or do anything special.
I barely had time to notice anything else before I felt Ezra’s hand grip my wrist—hard. He spun me around and I must’ve flinched because he loosened his grip almost immediately as he plucked the cube from my hand.
“Don’t touch this,” he said softly, and he placed it back on the shelf. Still holding my wrist, my husband spun me back around in the other direction, pulling my backside close to his chest and sniffing my hair, sweetly. He held my waist in place to him and used his other hand to tuck a curl behind my ear.
The small black cube staring at me from the shelf started to disappear as I began to melt into his touch. He bit my ear, whispering “I love you, Char.”
“I love you,” I hummed quietly and I surrendered to Ezra’s touch and the quiet of the house.
ACT II—the pattern
I woke up at 3:52 A.M. A breeze drifted through the window and I rolled over searching for Ezra’s heat but found nothing but silk sheets. Kyoto’s meow called from the hallway and I sat up, rubbing sleep from the corners of my eyes and letting them adjust to the darkness.
Despite the coldness of the house, my hair stuck to my face with sweat—my heartbeat steady, but hard. A metrical typing sound that sounded like it was coming from Ezra’s office, aligned with the thumping of my heart and made me sit up slowly to try to listen more closely.
Nothing.
I sat up, swung my legs over the bed that was much too large for one person, and slipped on my moccasins.
I walked past the Versailles fireplace that was never used, out of our bedroom door, and was met by more darkness in the hall. I could barely make out Kyoto’s shadow, but saw her run away from Ezra’s closed office door and toward me, swirling frantically around my legs and meowing louder, the closer I got to the office.
“Quiet, Kyoto,” I said hushed and I picked her up. I hesitated before reaching for the handle to pull it open. It was locked. I sat Kyoto down and started to knock on the door but stopped myself when I heard a strangled moan that sounded like it came from Ezra.
The metrical typing I heard earlier from my bed returned, once again aligning too neatly with my heartbeat. Between breaths, Ezra’s voice surfaced. Repetitive. Methodical.
I couldn’t make out the words but I continued to listen. Was he cheating? I knocked on the door—with more rage than I’d intended—before my mind could draw any conclusions. I heard Ezra clear his throat and a few seconds later, the door was unlocked and swung open.
I looked around his office, thinking someone had to be in here with him.
“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” He still hadn’t looked at me as he asked his question. I looked down and saw Ezra was holding the black box. He must’ve felt my gaze because he quickly set it down on the corner of his desk. “You should go back to bed, I’ll go with you,” he said, reaching for my hand.
I pulled away.
“Who were you talking to?”
“What do you mean? It’s four o’clock in the morning, I wasn’t talking to anyone.” I knew he was telling the truth.
“Were you watching porn? I heard you moaning.” I was too tired to beat around the bush. He looked flushed.
“No. I wasn’t watching porn, Charlotte. I was working.” He looked like he wanted to say more and concern grew in his eyes, but I knew what I heard. I walked around his desk, my fingers sliding across the mahogany. I was about to sit down in front of his desktop and see if anything was still pulled up on his screen when Kyoto came bolting into the room and onto the desk with a loud hiss, knocking everything but the desktop onto the carpeted floor.
Ezra’s blue eyes widened as he saw Kyoto about to chomp down on the black box. He quickly grabbed Kyoto by her scruff and picked the object from the floor—examining it thoroughly —while he dropped our cat to the floor with cold regard. I cringed and felt my heart racing, threatening to make me pass out from the excitement and the sight of Ezra losing his composure.
“Ezra?” I choked out. He stared at me like he forgot I was in the room. Gently placing the box back on his desk, he ran over to me and cradled my head into his chest. I was shaking, I was tired, and I was unsure what was happening. I leaned into his warmth and watched Kyoto leave the office. She lingered outside of the door for a moment before loudly meowing and running towards our bedroom.
“Don’t let her come back in here,” Ezra murmured softly into my hair.
It was a reasonable request.
ACT III—the object
Two nights had passed since Ezra overreacted about our cat. He kept apologizing for frightening me despite me telling him it wasn’t necessary—I knew he meant no harm. Kyoto avoided the office instinctively. On this third night, at 9:46 in the evening, I was overcome by an urge to clean Ezra’s office before he returned home.
So I crept up the grand staircase and turned the hall to the double French doors. For the past two nights, Ezra now kept the door locked even while he was at work. I slipped into the office when he finally stepped out to use the restroom. I took the spare office key from his desk. He wouldn’t notice.
I dug the key out of my brassière, the metal was cold on my skin. My heart pounded and my throat burned as I unlocked the doors. Why was I so nervous? I was cleaning my husband’s office. I pushed the doors in and walked into the quiet room.
I heard Kyoto yelp and turned around to find her outside of the French doors. She stared from her distance. A glance around the room—a room which seemed to be growing larger the longer I lingered here—confirmed my suspicions. It was dusted, vacuumed, and bleached. Scanning the room, the black box caught my eye on the corner of his desk. It had been placed on a small, red pedestal.
I noticed the new placement the other night and asked him about it. He told me it was a special compliance tool, that it used to be someone else’s job to handle it but it was now his, and most importantly—I shouldn’t touch it.
The sound of the grandfather clock’s pendulum stirred me. It was 9:48. Ezra wouldn’t be home for at least 12 more minutes. Now was my chance.
The box preoccupied his attention and now he had placed it on a pedestal. I stomped over to his desk and stared down at it. It didn’t scare me. It was a box. I snatched it up.
I briefly heard Kyoto’s screech and then—I was drowning in darkness.
I could not see. I felt suffocated and exposed at the same time. Tears were running down my eyes and my neck was stiff. I was suspended in pitch black. I felt eyes burning into all sides of my body. I vibrated in a rhythm that did not belong to me.
Something like breath passed my ear. Something like approval. My stomach tightened. My pelvis softened. I understood nothing except that I could not let go. I wept. I accepted that this is how I would die—I felt a sharp slice on the back of my wrist.
The smell of blood rushed through my nostrils and I became breathless again as I was pulled back by something in the darkness and then felt a hard thump on the back of my head.
I blinked rapidly and realized I was still in Ezra’s office. The box was in my hand. I was lying on the ground and beneath my robe, my underwear was wet.
Had I fainted?
The room began to clear up more and through the haze, I saw Kyoto clawing at the box. She put it in her mouth and started shaking her head back and forth violently. She became erratic in her movements. I was too weak—so barely I produced a helpless, “Kyoto, stop.” Ezra wouldn’t like that I let her in the office.
An enormous, black shadow grew closer over me and Kyoto. I looked up to find Ezra. When did he come in here? Was he always so large?
He stood almost a foot taller than me at 6 feet and 3 inches. Standing over me like this, I felt like a child who had been caught doing something wrong more than I felt like his wife.
He moved to pick Kyoto up but she whipped back around and spat the box out towards Ezra, her eyes crazed. She arched her back and hissed—then quickly ran from the room.
“I told you not to let Kyoto come in here,” his eyes were dark. “The door was locked, did you steal the key?” He looked more worried than angry.
Relief set in.
“I only wanted to see.” My voice was small, still confused about what I had experienced or if it was real. What was he doing with this box? He ignored what I said and scooped me off the floor into his arms, placing me on the edge of a small bookshelf.
He was warm. He felt close and distant at the same time and when he looked down at me he looked even more handsome than I had ever seen.
My heart skipped.
“Don’t do it again. I told you, it’s a complex compliance tool. It needs to be handled a specific way and only by me,” the most he’s talked about the box since he brought it home.
“My grandfather built this company with his blood,” he rubbed one of my curls between his fingers, “it’s important that I keep doing the work the way he instructed,” he kissed my forehead and gestured at our giant estate, “I have to do the work. This tool is part of it. You need to trust me, Charlotte.”
I looked up at my husband. At some point he had pulled a first aid kit from his desk and he was cleaning my scratch.
His work was stressful, but I knew it was important. It wasn’t my responsibility to understand it, but I could support him.
He leaned down and touched his forehead to mine, “If you ever have to touch the box—which you shouldn’t—grip only the corners and do it delicately.” He gave me a serious look before smoothing my hair behind my ears. His icy eyes burned into my heart, grounding me.
I stretched my neck up to kiss him and agreed. “Yes—I trust you.”
We fell asleep in each other’s arms that night.
The next morning I woke up feeling renewed. I couldn’t quite recall why I had gotten so upset last night but as I felt Ezra’s arm drape around me and the sun shone through the large, dusty window, I knew whatever it was—I had overreacted.
I rolled over to climb on top of him.
I stared down at his face. It was chiseled and manly but had a boyish innocence that made me swoon. I leaned down and started to kiss the sides of his face and neck. He stirred and smiled up at me.
“Good morning, Char. Feeling better?”
“Much,” I said between kisses. He pulled me closer to him. I barely started to say, “I don’t know what got into me,” before he was crashing his mouth onto mine.
I had missed this. As I began to melt into my husband, my stomach churned unpleasantly.
I jerked up and ran down the hall, turning the corner to slam myself in front of the toilet and rid my stomach of whatever I had eaten last night. When there was nothing left to purge, I grabbed a toothbrush and began to clean myself off at the sink. I looked into the mirror.
At least I looked a lot better than I felt.
A masculine, blood curdling scream interrupted my thoughts from down the hall.
Ezra.
I dropped the toothbrush and bolted from the washroom. The doors to the office were wide open and Ezra was standing completely still, with his back to the door, in front of the grandfather clock. I ran up behind him and turned him around to me. He was motionless. Pale.
“What’s wrong?” I spat out helplessly.
“Ky-Kyoto. It’s Kyoto,” and I looked down at Ezra’s arms to see him cradling Kyoto’s small, motionless body. “She’s dead. I think she just,” my husband sniffed, tears welling at the corners of his eyes “I think she stopped breathing.”
I dropped to my knees. My baby was dead. But how? Did she get into something? Hot tears streamed down my face all the way to my chest as I let out ugly sobs.
Ezra dropped to the floor and cradled me into him. My heart ached but I softened into his arms. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that my husband was holding the box. I did not ask him how long he had been holding it.
Wait what was up with that box? Can't wait to read part 2
Wow. Looking forward to part 2. That box 👀. 🫶🏽🖤