A few hours had passed since that commotion from the former fiancé.
Theodore had risen before the first light spilled through the glass panels of the annex. In his hand, he held a sprig of flowers—no grand bouquet, no gaudy embellishment, just a modest bundle of morning blooms, freshly picked soft white hyacinths with pale green stems.
He didn't knock on Selene's door as a husband might. He stood in front of it quietly, waiting, contemplating, and when he finally decided to raise his hand and tap his knuckles against the oak, the moment felt heavier than he expected.
Inside, Selene was already awake. She did not plan on sleeping her thoughts off at all.
She didn't answer right away, but eventually she pulled open the door, her face unreadable through the rays of light.
"I brought these," he said, holding out the small bouquet.
She glanced down at the flowers and a long pause hovered between them.
"They used to grow near the chapel gardens," she murmured. "I remember." She took them from his hand—not warmly, but not coldly either—and stepped aside without inviting him in.
He didn't mind. The door wasn't closed in his face.
He took that as a beginning.
he asked gently, and as meek as he could "Would you walk with me today?"
Selene hesitated, her spoon halfway to her lips. "Why?"
"Because… I think there are things worth remembering. And maybe it's not too late to do that."
Again, she felt reluctant. But this time, her nod was slow. "Just a walk."she replied after deliberation.
That was all he asked for.
The garden greeted them with its spring perfume—roses in bloom, faint jasmine curling along the fences, and the low hum of bees moving lazily between blossoms. They walked slowly, the gravel crunching beneath their feet, and for a moment, they looked like any couple might: noble, poised, distant, but undeniably intertwined by an invisible thread
Selene kept her hands behind her back. Theodore matched her pace. It wasn't as warm as it had once been between them, but something had softened, ever so slightly.
They passed the rose bushes she used to trim herself. He pointed to them quietly. "You scolded the gardener for cutting them too early one summer. Said he had no sense for rhythm."
Selene almost smiled. "He trimmed them like a man preparing for battle. The poor bush looked scalped."
Theodore laughed—short, quiet—but it reached his eyes. "You liked doing it yourself. Even when your hands blistered."
She nodded. "It was mine to tend to. That mattered."
Silence returned again, but it wasn't uncomfortable this time.
Until another set of footsteps joined theirs.
"I thought I might find you both here," Alice Eugenia announced, her voice all silky smooth and enticing.
Selene's expression cooled in an instant. Theodore's relaxed shoulders tensed.
Alice was dressed in soft lavender, ribbons flowing like she had prepared for this moment since dawn. Her eyes, bright and sharp, flicked between them with feigned delight.
"I was told by Her Grace to keep you company, Your Grace," she said to Theodore, lacing her arm smoothly around his. He didn't move—he couldn't. Selene watched the movement, her jaw tightening, but she didn't say a word.
"It's such a beautiful morning," Alice continued, far too sweetly. "And isn't this the garden where you used to read to me as children? Do you remember that?"
Theodore didn't answer right away. His jaw tensed, and Selene noticed the way his fingers flexed at his side.
"I remember," he said flatly.
She beamed at him. "Those were such simpler times, weren't they?"
Selene turned away slightly, eyes fixed on a nearby stone bench. It was too much—this entire performance.
Alice clung tighter, leaning her head against his shoulder. "You're so tense. Let me—"
"That's enough," Theodore said suddenly, stepping aside to remove his arm from her grip.
The moment shattered. Alice blinked, startled, her hand suspended in the air where he had been.
Selene turned back at the sound of his voice. He didn't look at her, but his jaw was set hard now, nostrils flared. He was trying to hold himself together.
Alice recovered quickly, smiling through the embarrassment, though something cold simmered behind her lashes. "I'm just doing as the Grand Duchess asked."
At that name, Theodore's mind flashed back to the conversation that had poisoned his morning.
"You are entitled to your little month, but do not misunderstand me, Theodore."
"If you continue this fantasy of reclaiming that woman, you will ruin everything we've arranged. Do not test me. If that girl stays, I will not shield her from what I can make public. About her, her family, her past. Do you think she's strong enough to bear disgrace?"
He had said nothing then. Poor he, who could only clench his fists until his knuckles turned white.
Now, standing in the garden with Alice's voice still echoing, and Selene's silence weighing against his heart, he could barely keep himself in check.
Selene's tone broke through. "I think I've walked enough."
Theodore turned to her, eyes softening. "Sel—"
She gave him a polite nod and turned back toward the annex, her figure retreating through the garden path.
Alice clutched her hands together, pretending to observe a butterfly flitting nearby. "She doesn't look well. Maybe she needs more time away."
Theodore's voice was was low, and sounded dangerous. But it carried through the rose-drenched air. "She needs time away from poison."
Alice tilted her head. "Excuse me?"
He stepped past her without answering.
---
Selene didn't cry. Not openly, not where anyone could see.
She returned to her chamber and closed the door gently behind her, then pressed her back to it. Her hands hung limp at her sides. The scent of roses still clung to her sleeves.
She had tried. Tried to meet him halfway, tried to believe his gestures meant something. But seeing Alice on his arm—hearing that honeyed voice claiming pieces of him so easily—it was like being reminded where she stood. Always the temporary one. Always replaceable.
And yet, hadn't she known this would happen?
Hadn't the grand duchess said it to her plainly? "The moment you are gone, Alice will take your place. We've waited long enough."
Selene sank slowly onto the edge of the bed and looked down at her hands. The same hands that once held a hopeful future. Now, only calluses remained from everything she had clung to and let go.
A soft knock broke her thoughts.
She wiped her face quickly and stood, opening the door.
Theodore stood on the other side, his expression unreadable.
"I was wrong to let her near you," he said quietly.
Selene shook her head. "You didn't stop her."
He looked at her like he wanted to argue—but couldn't. "I'm trying."
"Try harder," she said, then shut the door again.
And still, he remained outside for a long while, as if hoping the weight of his silence could say what his words couldn't.