Chapter 7 Stardust And Secrets

• The velvet black night sky stretched effortlessly above them, with stars that dotted and flickered in the sky like a limelight of flames. The hospital car park, a place usually filled with rustling cars and rushing footsteps, was now wrapped in a quiet lull, as the streetlamps cast soft golden halos across the pavement. There Zara was as she walked slowly yet aimlessly in her shapeless hospital gown, which flapped gently behind her. Deen had already left as she was still alone wandering in her thoughts.
• Zara’s day of discharge had finally come, and Zara arose early, as she anticipated, but wasn’t excited about going back into the outside world and resuming her normal life. She stood awkwardly at the entrance of the hospital in a basic outfit as she waited for her ride to come. A few moments later into the awkward position, a ride pulled up before her, and the chauffeur stepped out to usher Zara in. As she entered, the anticipation in her eyes dropped a little when she noticed Micheal hadn't come to pick her up. Not thinking too much about it, the long and quiet ride back to Michael’s mansion began.
• The mansion situated in an exotic area loomed like a forgotten castle that was majestic but empty. Towering-looking gates flung open at the entrance with a light mechanical hum as the car wound up in the long driveway to the mansion. After a somewhat endless drive, the mansion was now in a proper view, and Zara stepped out of the car as she was greeted by house staff lined up at the door, all carrying a surprised look instead of being enthusiastic. They looked more surprised than anything else.
• “Good morning, ma’am. Mr Michael couldn’t be here, but we were instructed by him.” The head house staff said after a slight bow.
• “Instructions you said?” Zara said as she nodded quietly as she stepped into the vast foyer. Despite the opulence, the foyer was indeed cold.
• “Yes, ma’am.” The head staff said as he walked behind her, while another staff opened the door for her to walk in.
• “You are to be settled at the East Wing, and everything has been put down to your taste, and just in case you need anything, we would all be at your service.” He said as he stiffly stood while pointing to the axis where her room was situated.
• Zara blinked as the words hit her; something about it felt strange. Despite how the house staff seemed welcoming to Zara, she wasn’t at ease because it all felt like a charade. It felt like they were under so much duress that it affected the effectiveness of their work, making them seem somewhat off. Out of earshot, two maids who were making their way upstairs whispered to themselves.
• “He couldn’t even at least bring her home or something. It is so out of norm." One of them murmured.
• “To think a man is supposed to be happy, having his fiancée back from a coma.” The other replied.
• Down below, Zara halted in the middle of a hallway she didn’t even recognise; not just that, it was in a house she had never been in, and she was even surrounded by statue-like humans who claimed to be the staff. Everything seemed strange, but she didn’t know what was stranger, waking up miraculously from a coma or her supposed fiancé acting as though she was just an obligation.
• Zara moved slowly down the hallway as her fingers grazed across the cold walls. The silence in the mansion was deafening, as only her footsteps echoed across the hallway with a faint hollowness that made the place seem way more unfamiliar. The dimly lit grand hallway was laced with sconces which gave off a moody kind of glow, but that alone wasn’t enough to ease the tight feeling that coiled up in her chest. It had been barely five minutes since she got here, and the air was already unbearably thick and heavy, too heavy for what is supposed to be known as her home. There were no room numbers or any form of direction to help her locate her room; Michael wasn’t even at home, and none of the staff had welcomed her into her room.
• Still in search of her room, a door slightly ajar across the hallway caught her eye. It wasn’t carrying any mark, but something striking seemed to have pulled her towards it. Maybe curiosity, maybe her instinct, but something was definitely pulling her, something that seemed quite familiar in this unfamiliar place.
• She got to the door but hesitated at the threshold for a moment, then gently pushed the door open. Stepping inside, the air seemed intensely different, thick and heavy, even darker than the hallway. Immediately, she searched for the switch on the wall beside the door and found it.
• She was welcomed by a wide master bedroom that sprawled before her. The room was embraced in a dark-themed light, glazed with midnight blue walls, with a piece of deep mahogany furniture and a massive bed in the centre, cloaked with a charcoal silk sheet. On a farther side of the room were two big closed doors beside each other and a massive window that stretched from floor to ceiling, as it was covered with a thick, heavy laced curtain that swayed as if it was moved by breath and no breeze.
• Even though there was a faint scent of Michael in the room, something did seem off, and in a way, it didn’t feel like him. She was used to a clean-cut Michael, but what she felt in the room was nothing close to what she thought she knew about Michael. The room, full of secrets, carried a cold and dominant aura, almost like her presence wasn’t welcomed there. A chill feeling crawled under her skin, sending an uneasy feeling to her gut, a gut feeling she didn’t like at all, and this made her take a step back. She knew this wasn’t her room, and she was certain, but for an unknown reason, she didn’t want to turn back.
• Instead of turning away, Zara stood in the room frozen for a moment, as her breath was caught in her throat. As the thick, unwelcoming energy clung to her skin, rather than stepping away, she found herself stepping forward against all odds. She wasn’t pulled by fear or anxiety but by curiosity. Her curiosity had a strange magnetic pull that had a strong hold over her instinct. Her steps were cautious, very slow, and deliberate as she walked across the room to the far side where the two doors sat a few metres beside each other. As she was walking, her mind hovered on which door she should enter, and she let her spirit lead as she arrived at one of the doors. Instantly, she turned the doorknob, making the door creak open, revealing a small, dimly lit study room. The study room smelt of old paper and wood polish. As a warm light was filtered through a single antique lamp that was placed carefully on the table, the silence inside was weightier than that of the bedroom. The desk was filled with clustered stacks of books and papers, layered in a chaotic way, some rumpled while others were torn at the edge. But that was not what caught her attention in the room. On the other side of the room, Zara sighted canvas, brushes still wet in their jar, and paints. Dozens of painted canvases lined up on the wall. Seeing this, her heart dropped, and her feet moved before she could even think, like being drawn by a magnet to the artwork. As she moved, her hands trembled, unsure of that; she paid no attention to her feelings, as her main goal was to reach the artwork. She reached out and picked one canvas; it was hers, and even though she had yet to bring it to life, it was hers; the style, the details, and the colour combination all spoke a loud volume of her.
• She was familiar with every brushstroke, and she knew she had never shown them to Michael. Despite his knowledge about her being a really good artist, he had never seen any of her work; no one had ever seen her work, as it was created in moments of solitude and kept close to the heart like a diary. Yet, her preciously hidden art was seated in someone else's house and a dozen of them.
• “how is that even possible?” She thought to herself as her mind reeled. An instant reaction kicked in, and she began to shuffle through the lined-up canvas with panic, and her breath froze as she got to the last one. She picked it up immediately, her hands hovering over it. It was the same painting, the one from her deep, strange coma, the same one she had just finished painting before her first meeting with Deen. This same painting had haunted her all through her time in a coma, and now that she's in the real world, it still follows her here. Her curled figure rested peacefully against a powerful alpha wolf. Her pulse began to thunder in her ears as the room suddenly became colder. Zara began stepping back as her head became overwhelmed, and her chest rose and rapidly fell. She couldn't make sense of everything: how the painting got there, the link between everything, and how Michael was even involved. She had known him for a while now, and nothing had seemed strange, so why now?
• Dropping the painting, she turned to the desk and began scanning the papers in a daze, as if expecting some kind of explanation or receipt. But all she saw were rough drafts, cryptic notes, and some unfinished sketches. While some were too crumbled to read, some had her name smeared on them but attached with special symbols she had never seen before. Zara, flooded in shock, staggered back as she held her hands tightly to herself, with more than a thousand questions crossing her head, each one more terrifying than the last. She couldn’t fathom what scared her more, the mystery of everything or the possibility that she was somehow part of something far beyond the normal.