His hand still supported Ivanka steady, protective just as expected.
But inside him, something stirred uneasily.
Valerie had never left like that.
Not without a word. Not without a look. Not without trying to explain, or at least to restrain herself.
And Demian knew Her departure just now was not merely retreat.
It was withdrawal.
Meanwhile, deep within the castle, Valerie walked without any clear destination. Corridor after corridor passed beneath her feet, her vision blurred, her ears ringing. Each breath felt too short, too painful.
She pressed a hand to her chest, as though she could hold something there from collapsing completely.
She waited.
There were no footsteps chasing after her. No voice calling her name. Nothing at all.
And that was when the pain changed shape.
No longer sharp but hollow.
Valerie finally stopped in front of her bedroom door.
Her hand lifted… then fell again.
For the first time, she asked herself in silence:
