"God! Will you give it a rest?! Just be quiet. Levi, let's take a breather." I approached Levi, intending to lead him to another room. He was unresponsive, his eyes unfocused, the light completely extinguished. Julia, with a surprising hint of empathy, gave us space. She placed her business card on the edge of the coffee table, the sound a small, sharp click in the otherwise heavy silence.

"You, little doggy. Contact me," she addressed me, her voice low and clipped, but lacking its usual venom. Then she glanced at Levi, "And I am sorry. I will do the legwork." She turned and left, the click of her heels echoing down the hallway.

Shit. Where do I even start? What do I even do?

"I really should have rendered myself sterile," he said.

He was still blaming himself.

"You want me to yell at you like I did to Julia?" I asked with a soft voice. "This was a long night. Why don't we just breathe now? I made chamomile tea, even though it's probably cold and tastes like piss right now. Or... I can make you a milkshake?"

"Tea always tastes like urine."

It was almost comical, the way he clung to that tiny shred of decorum, avoiding a curse word while his entire world was burning around him.

"Still having manners, are we?" I said with a bitter laugh escaping. "Let's go to your room, and I may or may not bring you tea." I reached out, gently taking his hand. Levi's hand, always cool, was now disturbingly cold. His complexion, too, was losing its color. A physical reaction to the emotional trauma, I supposed.

"Come on," I called out softly.

He didn't answer or resist, so I took it as a yes and led him to the second floor, to his bedroom.

Six days. That's how long it had been since I was last in this room. Now, looking at him, broken and unresponsive, the guilt felt like a physical weight. As I was burdening myself with my own shame, Levi took his hand back. "Thank you. I need some alone time to process all of this," he said with his flat voice.

"No, you don't look good. I don't want to leave you alone," I said with concern in my voice.

"Raphael, I want to be alone. As much as I appreciate your concern and your earlier words... I really need to be alone," he repeated, his breath subtly unsteady. I just nodded, not wanting to force him to utter another word. Before leaving his room, I said, "Just yell or call if you need anything. I'll be right here."

I left his room in a rush, practically running to my own, and barged inside. All the tension of the night finally reached its breaking point.

I was feeling so deeply sorry for him. I'd never had any problem with crying; being an actor often helped. I desperately wanted to, but I was so heartbroken, so utterly devastated, that I couldn't even manage a single tear. My throat was burning and heat was rushing to my head. But not even a single tear escaped.

It wasn't just sadness. It was also an inexplicable disgust, a simmering anger. No, not anger. Fury. Rage. A burning, all-consuming rage. I wanted to burn that island. I wanted to set that noble cemetery ablaze. I wanted to watch everything burn.

But... even if I charred Cybil to ashes, I wouldn't help Levi, or undo the things she'd done to him. It wouldn't undo the violation, the manipulation, the years of damage she'd inflicted.

It wouldn't make Levi happy, at all.

…

The next morning arrived, heavy and still. I pressed my ear against my bedroom door, listening for Levi. He always left at eight, a precise, unwavering ritual. It was Monday.

He didn't leave the house that morning. Instead, he got out and went to his locked room. I could hear the distinct sound of beeping. At least when he was in his bedroom, I could have barged in. There was no way for me to enter that room.

I still wanted to check on him, to break down that locked door and drag him out. But he clearly wanted his distance. And, with a heavy sigh, I had to admit it was understandable.

What does Levi like, other than sugar and sweets? He enjoys scotch, but he will probably avoid alcohol right now. And chamomile tea is definitely out of the question. What else? Something... calming? Something comforting? Maybe a different kind of tea? Something strong, maybe? Or... something else entirely? Something that isn't a drink? I'm drawing a blank.

An idea popped into my head, and immediate disgust curdled in my stomach. I could ask that sly secretary, Holden. Ugh. I should have taken Annie's number. I shot him a text.

"Shit hit the fan. Is there anything Levi likes, enjoys, loves? Also, give me Annie's number."

He replied quickly. "Good morning, sir. I attached Annie's number. Mr. Blake enjoys sugary drinks and desserts."

Apparently, everybody knows that. If Holden didn't know, Annie wouldn't either. And there was one other person left. Julia. Ugh. I also sent her a text.

"Is there anything Levi likes, enjoys, loves? I need help."

"Dethroning the king, dissolving nobility and sugar, no strings attached, protected sex," she replied, the bluntness of her response a sharp slap in the face.

Is there anyone who actually knows anything about this man? It wasn't just about Levi's preferences; it was about understanding him. And it seemed like everyone, including me, was failing miserably.

The added detail, the casual mention of sex, it was a punch in the gut. The timing couldn't have been worse.

"Is that all?"

"He is not a kitten. Don't coddle him," she replied. I just sighed, I didn't have the energy to argue.

I stared at my phone, the screen a blank, mocking reflection of my own confusion. What was I supposed to do now? I had no idea how to reach Levi, how to help him.

I closed my eyes, trying to picture him, to piece together the fragmented picture I had.

Sugar, revolution, protected sex...

It was a bizarre, disjointed puzzle.

Levi Blake was a weird man. A man who possessed everything, yet owned nothing. Not even a friend that knew something superficial about him.

I glanced around, my gaze landing on the plants I'd bought when I first moved in. Plants. Plants. He loved talking about... what was it called? Aether Bloom!

But... how am I supposed to use that? Nope, pull yourself together, Raphael. Levi also liked talking. Maybe I can just... talk to him. About plants. Or anything.

Then, I heard it. The distinct, rhythmic beeping, followed by the heavy click of the door's locking mechanism disengaging. He was leaving his locked room.

I rushed to meet him, my heart pounding in my chest. He was walking sluggishly, silently. I reached out and grabbed his arm. It was shockingly cold to the touch, and his skin was alarmingly pale. His eyes were distant. He flinched at my touch before he pulled his arm away.

I guess he still needed his space.

"Good morning, Raphael. I would appreciate it if you would leave me undisturbed."

I watched him walk away, his footsteps silent on the carpet, his silhouette disappearing down the hallway. I wanted to follow him, to demand answers, to shake him until he came back to himself. But something held me back. A sense of… fear of him completely shutting me away.

I stood there, frozen, the silence of the house pressing in on me. What was he doing in that room?

I glanced towards the locked study, its door a dark, impenetrable barrier. I wanted to go in there, to see what he was hiding. But something told me I shouldn't.

I needed to focus on him getting better or... not. I wish he yelled, screamed, threw something away. I'd only ever seen him truly enjoy himself when he was drinking that overly sweet champagne, and he wouldn't touch that now. And, naturally, nothing sexual to clear his mind.

So, no alcohol, no sex? How does one relieve their pain then?

What did he turn to when he was alone? What comforts did he seek when no one was watching?

…

Maybe I needed something more practical. Like a silent walk in the park, a silent swim in the sea, some silent gardening... God, what am I thinking?

This story has been stolen from NovelBin. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

I couldn't force him to talk to me. I couldn't force him to accept my help. But I could be there. I could be present, even if he didn't want me to be. I could be a silent, unwavering presence in the background, a constant reminder that he wasn't alone, even if he felt like he was.

A day passed. And another.

Levi never left the house.

He only left his bedroom to go to his locked room. If he saw me, he greeted me politely and retreated to his room again.

Another day slipped by, indistinguishable from the last.

Three days had passed since we learned about Cybil. And Levi was now little more than a ghost haunting his own home. He's been dead silent all the time. I reached out to Julia once more.

"Levi is in really bad shape."

"Why are you bothering me with this again?"

"He has been dead silent for three days. Is there anything I can do to help him?"

"Ugh. Come meet me at the Salted Sugar bakery, in an hour."

That wasn't nearly enough time to figure out what to say, but it was all I was going to get. Julia, even though she was another thorny wall, she knew Levi better than anyone. I grabbed my coat and headed out into the cool evening air.

The scent of caramelized sugar and something faintly metallic hung in the air as I pushed open the door to Salted Sugar. The bakery was small, with exposed brick walls and mismatched furniture, a deliberate clash of rustic and modern.

Julia sat at a corner table, a half-eaten slice of something that looked like obsidian cake in front of her. She looked up as I approached, her expression a mix of impatience and something else, something I couldn't quite decipher.

"You're late," she said, her voice sharp, but not unkind. "Sit."

I slid into the opposite chair, the worn leather creaking beneath me. The atmosphere of the bakery, with its strange blend of sweet and sharp, felt oddly fitting for our conversation. It was a place where opposites collided, where comfort and unease existed side-by-side.

"Julia, thanks for meeting me. Look, I understand you don't want to talk about him, but he's acting really weird. He's practically become a ghost."

She let out a deep sigh. "Did Levi ever talk to you about me?"

I hesitated, my gaze flickering away from hers. "Not really," I admitted, my voice low. "I learned about you from Cybil."

She was a scary woman, possibly as strong as Levi, and I already knew she bankrupted her father's company on purpose, with Levi. She narrowed her eyes. "Did that old hag try to use me to anger you?"

"Yeah, that was the vibe, mostly. But I swear this isn't about that. Levi and I are not in a... relationship like that."

I was bitter to admit that, but honesty was important.

"That geriatric bitch... Whatever. Let me show you something." She was wearing multiple rings on her left ring finger, and she slid all of them off. A deep, pale scar traced the ghost of a marital band.

"Who did that?" I asked while whispering.

"I did. To remind myself never to be involved with Levi Blake, ever again. And to curse him every time I look at my hand." She gazed at the scar, gently tracing its outline. "He's a piece of shit."

"I agree. He's an obnoxious asshole. But I've only known him for a week. You, however, were married to him for years. Can you tell me more about him?"

"Fine. First of all, we met when we were kids. We were playmates."

Tiny, small Levi, playing with toys as a child. Unimaginable. She continued, "He is the biggest son of a bitch I know, now."

She finished her cake, the fork clattering softly against the plate, and looked at me. "But he wasn't always like that. He was nice as a child, always taking care of his little sister. Then his sister died, then his father..." Her voice trailed off, a hint of something like grief flickering across her face before she masked it. "I spent years believing and waiting for the sweet kid I grew up with to resurface. Well. He didn't." She paused, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "We both hated our families, we both hated our fate and marriage. He told me about his plans after we were married, once he was sure I couldn't jeopardize them. Then I agreed to help, happily." A flicker of self-disgust crossed her features. "Thinking, maybe if he got everything he wanted, he would improve. He wouldn't be the calculating, manipulative asshole he is. But it became too much for me after a while. So, I wanted a divorce. He was still gentlemanly enough to avoid asking for one. He never loved me, but always treated me with care, which was the worst."

She paused, her gaze drifting away, then back to mine.

"He is a charismatic person; it's possible to be swayed by it." A faint, almost imperceptible tremor ran through her hand as she spoke. "But, you must understand, he will never love you either. He is obsessed. That's all he is." Her voice was flat, final.

"I thought he was born like... whatever he is." I trailed off, searching for a less harsh word, but finding none.

"You can be honest." She met my gaze, her eyes hard. "He's a fucking asshole."

"Sometimes, yes. But not everything can be fake. He is really nice and caring," I said, trying to hold onto the image of Levi that I knew.

"Yeah, yeah. He is. He always is. Always. Never blames you, never defies you, never disrespects you," she said, her voice laced with a cold, almost clinical detachment.

"Yeah?" I asked, a flicker of doubt creeping into my voice.

"Just like how you would treat a dog." She finished, her gaze unwavering, a hint of steel in her eyes.

I wanted to dismiss it, to tell her she was wrong, but a cold knot of doubt tightened in my stomach.

"That's… harsh," I managed, my voice strained.

"Is it?" She raised an eyebrow. "Or is it the truth you don't want to see? He's a master of control, Raphael. He knows how to manipulate people, how to make them feel safe and loved."

"He acts really nice to me," I protested, but even my own voice lacked conviction.

"And how does he make you feel when he does?" she asked, her voice soft, but mocking. "Grateful? Indebted? Like you owe him something?"

The questions hit me like a physical blow. I thought back to the past week, to Levi's unwavering support, his quiet understanding. And I realized, with a sickening lurch, that she was right. I did feel indebted to him. I did feel like I owed him something.

"I…"

"He is not a kitten, Raphael," she said, her voice low and dangerous.

I wanted to deny it, to scream that she was wrong, but the truth was staring me in the face.

"Do you even know half of the shit we did?" she asked, her voice cold. "Or, more importantly, do you know what Levi will do to anyone involved in the Cybil case? Let me outline his usual protocol for situations like this. First, abortion if the child is a boy, and generally abortion if it's a girl, given the high statistical likelihood of stillbirth or severe disability."

"Stop. Stop. I get your point," I said, my voice strained, trying to block out the horrific details.

"No, you fucking don't. You still think he is capable of something humane. He is not." Her eyes were hard, unwavering.

"Just listen for a sec. I don't know anything about him, and I can't deny he is probably fucked in the head, yes. Sure. But it doesn't change the fact that Levi is in a bad shape right now, and he needs help. What I am about to say is going to sound naive to you, but let me say it. How did you comfort him?"

"What are you playing at?" she asked, her voice sharp, suspicion lacing every word.

"He is not the Devil. He is not some God. He is a sad and lonely bastard," I said while begging inside.

"Ah, fuck. You are even worse than I thought," she said, her voice laced with a weary disgust.

"Yeah, I am. I feel shitty every time I see him silently walking around the house in his pajamas," I admitted, a raw honesty slipping through.

"He is too far gone at this point," she replied with her exhaustion to my pleas.

"Maybe. Maybe not. I don't know. I will probably never know. And you said it yourself, he wasn't always like this," I said with my remaining hope.

"Then shit happened, and he spent years honing his blade to strike whoever defies him. He made his choice when he was a boy; he dug his own pit." She let out a sigh, wearied since she was saying the same thing over and over again.

"Yeah, yeah. I know. But I have to try, don't I? Just like you did." A subtle smile played at my lips. Yeah, that's what I want to do.

"You are an idiot and you will crawl back to me, begging me to save you," she said, a grim certainty in her tone.

"That is a high possibility. Can't deny that." A bitter laugh escaped me.

"That kitten is going to eat you alive. I am done here. Don't bother me with useless shit."

The harsh scrape of her chair against the tile floor echoed through the bakery as she left, leaving me in a stunned, empty silence. I grabbed whatever looked most packed with sugar from the bakery's display and walked back home.

My walk was silent. A deliberate silence. Because I didn't want to think about the things Julia said. But she was right. Uncomfortably, undeniably right.

When I entered the house, I immediately checked where Levi was. He was in his bedroom. Levi didn't have a strong scent; he had a very subtle, clean smell, reminding me of some artisan soap.

"Levi!" I called out, my voice echoing through the silent house. "I brought you something to eat."

A cold, oppressive silence hung in the air at first. After what felt like an eternity, he emerged from his cave. Unlocked his door and looked down at me from the second-floor mezzazine. "Thanks."

I could see him scrutinizing the pastry bag. I lifted it up, offering it like a fragile peace offering. "It's sweets, from the bakery." I tried to sound casual, completely chill, like I was approaching a skittish rabbit.

Levi, dragging his steps, came downstairs with his silent walk. "I appreciate it."

It was the first exchange we'd had in three days, and my heart hammered against my ribs. "Uhm… want to eat together? We could watch something, too?"

Levi lifted his eyes from the pastry bag, and I could finally see what he looked like. His eyes were distant and unfocused, his skin was pale. Just like three days ago. I could feel my heart being torn to shreds.

"Please…" I choked out. "Just… give me something. A clue. Anything. What can I do to help?"

Levi reached out for the pastry bag, our skin barely brushed. There was something wrong. His hand wasn't cold; it was hot. Not burning, but an average warmth. In Levi's case, it might be fatal.

"Levi? Are you… feverish?" I immediately pressed my hand to his forehead. "Yes. You're burning up."

"The initial preparations… taxed my system. I have already taken medication." He was talking about his work again. Oh god. I wanted to slap his face to wake him up from his weird trance.

"Levi, I'm trying to be patient, but you're making it incredibly difficult. Now, can you stop acting like a goddamn fool for a second? You're not eating sweets. You're having hot soup and herbal tea with lemon."

"Are you certain?" he asked, his voice flat, almost clinical. "I haven't consumed anything substantial in… perhaps 24 hours. Possibly 48."

I took a deep breath and grabbed his arm with my might. Since he was already weak, he couldn't really fight back. I basically pushed him to the couch. "Sit right here," I ordered him, and he obeyed, too readily, which was deeply unsettling.

I'd put on this whole show of bravado, but the truth was, I didn't know shit about cooking. And Levi already had his aversion to food. Rice porridge. That had to be simple, right? Just bland boiled rice.