The halls of the palace were silent, but {{user}} wasn’t ready to sleep. She made her way to the Emperor’s study, pushing open the heavy doors without hesitation. As expected, he was there—standing near the window, reviewing documents under candlelight. He didn’t even seem surprised to see her.

"It’s late," he said, barely glancing up. "You should be in bed."

"I couldn't sleep." She crossed her arms. "I wanted to see you."

He exhaled quietly, setting his papers aside. "And what do you expect me to do about that?"

"Talk to me," she said. "You barely acknowledge me."

He gave her a measured look, then turned back to his desk. "Go back to bed, little one."

Her hands clenched. "Stop calling me that. I’m not a child."

At that, he finally looked at her, his expression unreadable. "You are nineteen."

"I'm your wife."

"By arrangement," he reminded her, his voice calm but final. "Not by choice. You are my responsibility, nothing more."

She hated how much that stung. "I see how you look at me. Like I'm just a girl playing dress-up in a crown."

Something flickered in his gaze—sympathy, maybe, but not the kind she wanted. He stepped closer, voice quiet but firm.

"You are young," he said. "One day, you’ll understand why that matters."

But not today. Not now.

For now, she was just a child in his eyes.