The sunlight streamed through the tall windows of the dining hall, painting the room in soft hues of gold. Ava stepped in, drawn by the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Alexander was already there, seated at the head of the long oak table, meticulously arranging the cutlery before him.
She paused, watching him. His movements were precise, deliberate. He adjusted the knife by a fraction of an inch, then the fork, until both were perfectly aligned with the edge of his plate.
"Good morning," she greeted, stepping closer.
He glanced up briefly, his expression softening. "Good morning."
As she sat, she couldn't help but notice how his coffee cup was placed at an exact angle, the handle pointing precisely to the right. The newspaper on the table was folded symmetrically, the edges aligned with the table's edge.
"Do you always start your day this... organized?" she asked, half-teasing.
He hesitated, his fingers pausing mid-adjustment of a salt shaker. "Order helps me think," he said simply, though his tone carried a hint of tension.
Ava didn't press further, but as breakfast progressed, she noticed other small things—how he wiped his hands with a napkin after every bite, how he rearranged the sugar packets in the dish until they were in perfect rows.
Later that day, while exploring the mansion, she stumbled into the study where Alexander often worked. The room was pristine, every book on the shelf arranged by height and color. Papers on his desk were stacked neatly, not a single one out of place.
Curiosity led her to pick up a photograph that rested on the corner of the desk, its frame polished to a gleaming finish. Before she could fully examine it, Alexander entered the room.
"You shouldn't touch that," he said, his voice sharper than usual.
Startled, Ava placed the frame back. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"
"It's fine," he interrupted, stepping forward to adjust the frame back to its original position. His fingers lingered on it for a moment, as if ensuring it was exactly right.
Ava studied him carefully. "You like things to be... a certain way," she said gently.
Alexander's shoulders tensed, but he nodded. "It's not just liking. It's... needing. If things aren't right, it feels—" He broke off, searching for words.
"Unsettling?" Ava offered.
He looked at her, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. "Yes. Unsettling."
Her gaze softened. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
"You didn't," he said quietly. "But it's... complicated. Sometimes, it's the only way I can keep the chaos in my mind at bay."
For a moment, the air between them felt heavy, filled with unspoken truths. Ava reached out, her fingers brushing his. "You don't have to explain. I see you, Alexander."
His hand tightened around hers, and for the first time, she thought she saw a hint of relief in his guarded eyes.