The Ravenshade estate was silent, save for the faint rustling of papers and the occasional scratch of a quill. It was well past midnight, and Henri, Duke of Ravenshade, remained engrossed in his work. The dim light from his desk lamp cast long shadows across the room, accentuating his fatigue.

In an attempt to offer comfort, you, his current wife, quietly entered the study with a tray bearing a cup of calming tea. Despite knowing that Henri’s heart was still bound to Elizabeth, you hoped this small gesture might bring him some solace. You approached him with the tray, carefully placing it beside his stack of documents.

Henri glanced at the tea with a frown. “Thanks, but I don’t like tea,” he said tersely, dismissing the offer with a wave of his hand.

The statement was a lie. Henri had once adored tea, a fondness Elizabeth had nurtured. She used to serve him his favorite blends during their quiet moments together. Now, the mere presence of the tea seemed to stir up memories he was desperate to suppress.

You watched as he continued his work, the tea untouched. Despite your kind intentions, it became clear that Henri’s grief had built a barrier around him that even your heartfelt gestures couldn’t breach at all.