Seraphina woke with the weight of fabric over her shoulders that did not belong to her. The morning light seeped pale and hesitant through her curtains, glinting off the coat draped around her like a secret. Kaelen's coat. The wool still carried the faintest trace of his scent, something sharp and masculine, layered with smoke and the faint whisper of expensive cologne.
She clutched the lapel without thinking, pulling it closer to her face, and her chest ached with the warmth it gave her. But then shame hit her like a wave. She shoved it away, hands trembling, as though the garment itself had burned her. What was she doing? What was she letting herself feel?
Her pulse still remembered the way his voice had slid around her last night, the way he had said her name like no one ever had. It unsettled her. Terrified her. Excited her.
Throwing back the covers, Seraphina rose, dragging the coat with her, holding it at arm's length. She crossed the room and shoved it deep into her wardrobe, burying it under folded gowns. Out of sight, as if that could erase the memory of him pressing it around her shoulders. She stood there a moment, her hand resting on the wardrobe door, breathing unevenly. The coat felt like a confession she hadn't made yet.
The door creaked open.
Marcelline entered without knocking, arms folded, her eyes immediately narrowing as she took in Seraphina's pale face and the dark circles bruising her eyes. "You didn't sleep," she said, not a question but an accusation.
Seraphina managed a weak shrug. "Sleep doesn't come easily."
Marcelline crossed the room, set a tray of breakfast on the vanity — toast, eggs, tea still steaming and pushed it toward her sister. "You need to eat, at least. You've barely touched anything since—" She stopped herself, jaw tightening around the unfinished words: since the wedding that wasn't.
Seraphina sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the tray. The steam curled upward, carrying the scent of butter and tea. Her stomach twisted at the sight. "I can't," she whispered.
Marcelline's expression softened, but her voice remained firm. "You have to. You'll waste away otherwise."
"I said I can't." Seraphina's words came sharper than she intended, laced with exhaustion and bitterness.
Marcelline studied her carefully. "This isn't only about Lucian, is it?" she asked, voice quieter now.
Seraphina stiffened. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," Marcelline leaned in, eyes dark with concern, "you came home with someone else's coat around you. Don't think I didn't notice."
Blood drained from Seraphina's face. "You went through my things?"
"I didn't have to. You were still wrapped in it when you collapsed on the bed last night. Who was it, Sera?"
Seraphina swallowed hard, struggling to keep her voice steady. "It was nothing. Just… kindness when I was falling apart."
Marcelline didn't blink. "Kaelen Armand."
The name hit the air like a blade. Seraphina's silence was enough of an answer.
Marcelline cursed under her breath, pacing the room before fixing her gaze back on her sister. "Stay away from him. Whatever comfort he offered, it wasn't free. Men like him never give without taking. And you—" her voice broke, trembling with both love and fear, "you can't survive being broken twice."
Seraphina lowered her eyes, ashamed. The memory of his hand brushing hers, his voice curling around her heart, rose unbidden and she hated herself for it.
A knock startled them both.
Marcelline moved to the door, opening it to reveal Lady Callista, a tall woman draped in pearls and lavender perfume, her face lined with age and cruelty polished into a smile.
"My dear Seraphina," Lady Callista crooned as she swept into the room uninvited. "I came the moment I heard. Such a tragedy. Such a scandal."
Her words were honeyed, but each syllable dripped poison. She perched on a chair, folding her hands primly. "Of course, people will talk. They already are, I'm afraid. The Marrick boy's indiscretion… so public, so vile. Why, just yesterday at the club—"
"Enough," Marcelline snapped, but Lady Callista only tutted, delighted at the sting she was delivering.
Seraphina sat frozen, the weight of the older woman's words crushing her chest. Scandal. Tragedy. Marked. Her future replayed in whispers she could already hear: men turning their faces away, women smirking behind gloved hands.
Lady Callista rose after her cruel sympathy was delivered. "Be strong, dear. A woman must carry her wounds with grace. Though some wounds…" her eyes gleamed, "never truly fade."
The door closed behind her, leaving the air thick with humiliation.
Seraphina's hands shook. "I can't bear this," she whispered.
Marcelline pulled her into her arms, but Seraphina was already retreating into herself.
Later, another knock sounded, softer this time. A letter slid beneath the door, sealed with Marrick wax. Marcelline retrieved it, her expression souring. "From him."
Lucian.
Seraphina's fingers trembled as she broke the seal. The words swam before her eyes: forgive me, mistake, love you always, beg for another chance.
Her lips moved, reading the lines aloud, her voice cracking like brittle glass. For a moment, for a dangerous heartbeat, she almost believed him. Almost saw the Lucian she had once dreamed of.
But then her gaze flicked, unbidden, to the wardrobe. To the hidden coat that still smelled of smoke and something she couldn't name.
Her stomach clenched. The letter slipped from her hands. She crumpled it on the floor, pressing her palms to her face as sobs tore loose.
"I loved you," she whispered to no one, to everyone. To Lucian. To herself. To the empty room.
She sank to her knees, rocking slightly, her voice shaking as words tumbled out in broken soliloquy. "I loved you and you ruined me. I wanted to believe, I wanted—" She gasped for air. "And Kaelen—Kaelen looks at me like he sees what I am, not what I should be. And I hate him for it. And I hate myself for wanting more of it."
Her cries filled the room, spilling into the silence until exhaustion forced her still.
When she finally lifted her head, the letter lay crumpled at her feet, and in the wardrobe, hidden beneath silk, Kaelen's coat waited like a shadow she could not escape.