Chapter 8 Study Of The Shadow

• Zara stood in the middle of the study, frozen as if she had just seen a ghost, as the still eeriness of the room pressed against her chest. Her fingers still tingled from coming in contact with the canvas that carried the image of her and the wolf, and her mind burnt with the image like a brand. Impossible questions layered in her head as her thoughts raced over unsettling realisations.
• Footsteps approached, but she was so consumed as her thoughts were in chaos that she didn't even notice it until she was interrupted by a low voice that echoed from the bedroom doorway. "Are you lost?" The voice was masculine. Thick, sharp, and smooth like a blade graced in velvet, making Zara turn abruptly as her heart skipped on seeing Michael standing beside the doorway. He leaned beside the wall close to the door frame with a faint but casual smile, his eyes, dark, unreadable, and far too calm, fixated on her silhouette.
• Zara's throat instantly dried as she couldn't muster up the words to speak but could only manage a half breath. His presence emancipated a stinging and sobering feeling like cold water poured on a wound. "I...I was in search of my room." She finally said, as her voice was barely above a whisper. "I thought this was my designated room." She added.
• Micheal's eyes fixated on her face, then slowly to the painted canvas beside her. Despite wearing an unwavering smile, something intently flickered in his gaze. With quiet steps, he walked inside the room as the door closed behind him. "Quite interesting." He said as he walked past her, straight to the desk. "It's common for most people to see a closed door and take it as a boundary."
• Zara slightly turned as she watched him move with an ease that sent shivers down her spine. "My apologies; I didn't think this was a personal space, and like I said earlier, I was lost," Zara said, sounding more defensive than she thought she would.
• "It is." Micheal bluntly replied and turned to her. "But I suppose you are not most people." He said with a lighter tone.
• Now in between Zara and the canvas, Michael stood, shielding the canvas subtly, as if he was protecting something dangerous or sacred. "The paintings... are from where?" Zara swallowed as she asked.
• "I collect art, and if I remember correctly, you are aware, right?" Micheal said as he tilted his head as if honestly amused by her sudden question.
• Zara carefully took a step backward, as her instinct led her, and not out of fear. Something deep in her gut signalled her not to push further. "Okay, I'd really like to meet the brilliant artist behind this work." Zara blurted out as her voice sounded strained.
• "I'd appreciate it if you stayed out of this one. Your room is the third on the left." He said promptly over his shoulder with a cold voice as he stepped forward, moving past her gently, and opened the door. She knew it wasn't a request nor a suggestion and was indeed a threat even though it did not sound like one. After a moment of hesitation, Zara walked out without uttering another word, as her heart thudded in her chest. Stepping into the hallway, she looked back briefly, sighting Michael locked eyes with the canvas. At this point, he didn't hide his gaze. He looked so intently at the canvas, like it meant more to him, more than she could understand. Zara slowly walked down the hallway as her feet graced the cold marble floor. The mansion was intensely quiet; every sound from her feet echoed slightly behind her like she was being chased by her shadow. As her mind was far from reality, her fingers grazed the wall as she grounded herself in something real and solid. She was supposed to feel at ease because she was alive, walking and even healing more than she thought she would. But deep inside her, her chest was tight in a knot, full of uncountable questions, each one more shocking than the previous. "How is it possible that those drawings...my drawings were here, even in a hidden place?" Zara thought to herself as she walked.
• "I remember vividly tucking them away in my sketch pad, but this is a completed drawing. And even if they were replicas, they looked too original to be fake, and Michael, on the other hand, had never seen my drawings." She added. Her brows drew together as she approached the door of her room. She began to delve deeper into her thoughts on how something didn't add up, the house and how the staff acted around him, how she had been his fiancée for a while now and how distant he was, and also how she barely even knew him. She began to feel as though she was playing a puzzle that was made of pieces that didn't belong together. Stepping into her room, she leaned against the doorframe while she stared into nothing. Her thoughts were drowning in questions, and she didn't even recognise how beautifully the room was put together. Zara subconsciously sat on the bed, as her mind buzzed uncontrollably, as thoughts overlapped like waves crashing against a frail shore. Moments after stepping into the room and sitting on the bed, she lets out a heavy sigh. She knew she had spent the entire day spewing through layers of confusing and suspicious thoughts, as her mind pulled strings that continuously led to a dead end, as it dug into shadows that ceased to reveal their sources. She realised that what she needed was to breathe and not to choke on thoughts. Rising from the bed, she made her way to the bathroom. Under the bathroom door was a yellow light pouring on the marble floor. As she pushed open the door, her skin was caressed in utmost glow as she stood there frozen but in awe. Zara blinked profusely, as this wasn't what she had just seen a while back; everything was arranged neatly and also delicately. To her surprise, the space was feminine, as a subtle hint of rose water hung in the air. And on a pro stone shelf, a rose-scented body wash, matching lotions, and a neat array of lotions. A cute blush pink, trimmed with lace, was hung beside a huge towel. Also by the mirror sat a tray with hair accessories and a fine hairdryer. Taking this view in, Zara blinked again. This wasn't so cold; she was already expecting something like what she had seen in Michael's room. She knew someone had gone to great lengths out of their way to make her feel comfortable and welcomed. This stirred something inside her; a mixture of gratitude and apprehension was stirred inside her. "Was this his way of making me feel at home?" She thought of hers, and immediately after, she shook her head as if shaking the thought away.
• Taking off her clothes, Zara stepped into the shower, and the water ran over her like a silk curtain. The bathroom was filled with the scent of roses, enveloped by her bodily scent. Since the accident, she hasn't really allowed herself to feel the tension in her muscles and limbs. As the water graced her skin, the warmth seeped into her bones, slowly washing away the heaviness that had followed her since her accident. Stepping out finally, she was in a plush robe, her wet hair falling slick back as she caught her reflection in the mirror; there she spotted a new glint in her eyes, something cautious and curious. For the first time after entering the room, she realised the room was stunning; lost in the swirl of her thoughts, she didn't realise it was this well made. The wall was painted in a soft cream, while a good undertone from the chandelier above reflected. The massive king-sized bed was layered with beautiful linens and warm pillows. The vintage curtains, long and sheer, slightly danced as the breeze slipped through the small opened space in the window. Despite everything feeling intentionally calm and beautifully cloaked with luxury, she still felt uneasy. That night, Zara had decided to bury such deep thoughts as she sank beneath the covers and let herself be soaked by the soft pull of the softness. Maybe tomorrow, she will search for more answers, but for now, she’ll need rest. Closing her eyes to give a gateway for sleep to shoot its shot, she was suddenly interrupted by an earth-shaking bang, making her jolt up in fear.