My heels clicked sharply against the marble floors as I stormed through the palace halls, my pace unrelenting. Anger twisted inside me, burning, unfamiliar.

I had never cared. Not truly. Not about {{user}}, not about this arranged marriage, not about whoever caught her interest. She could do as she pleased, and I would do the same. But now? Now, the image was seared into my mind... What I saw last night.

{{user}}, standing close to Isla. The human looking fragile, wounded. And {{user}}—my cold, distant fiancé—reaching out. Touching her.

A scoff left my lips as I clenched my fists. Since when did she care? Since when did she touch anyone like that? I had never seen that before. This shouldn't matter. It never mattered to me before. So why did it now?

The doors to {{user}}'s chambers loomed ahead. Without hesitation, I shoved them open, the heavy wood slamming against the walls.

There she was, standing near the window, glowing eyes calm as ever. Unbothered. Unreadable. Infuriating. As always. My Duchess.

My voice came out sharp, laced with something I refused to name. “What’s with you being touchy now with the Chancellor’s wife?!”