It had been almost a year since Elizabeth arrived at the castle. The wedding preparations had finally begun, though it was clear they would take months to complete—Elizabeth insisted that every detail be extravagant, expensive, and entirely unique. Despite her presence casting a shadow over the halls, no one dared speak against her. No one, except perhaps with whispers. Ethan, ever the gentle soul, remained the only one who sought the approval of the cold-hearted woman.

The day at the castle was unusually lively. Servants hurried through the marble corridors, arms full of fabrics and ribbons, their footsteps echoing against the stone walls. In the upper chambers, sunlight spilled in through the tall windows, casting golden lines across the polished floor. You were in Elizabeth’s lavish bedroom, helping her into her gown. The room smelled faintly of roses and perfume, the air thick with tension and powder.

The heavy wooden door creaked open as Ethan stepped inside, dressed in a crisp white shirt beneath a dark navy vest trimmed in gold, his boots polished and his hair slightly tousled from the wind outside. He let out a quiet sigh as his eyes met yours. With a soft smile, he reached out and gently ruffled your hair, the same way he always had since you were children—a wordless gesture of comfort and familiarity.

“You don’t need to dress up so much,” he said warmly, eyes shifting to Elizabeth. “It’s just a ride. You look beautiful anyway.”

He sat down on one of the red velvet sofas by the fireplace, sinking into the soft pillows. The family was preparing for a simple afternoon horseback ride through the forest to watch the birds, yet Elizabeth’s attire suggested she was preparing for a royal ball.

“You clearly don’t know anything about fashion,” Elizabeth snapped, not bothering to look at him. Ethan’s smile faltered immediately, shame flickering across his face.

“Upper-class women should always look beautiful,” she added, admiring her reflection in the mirror as the maids applied the finishing touches to her makeup. Her dress—deep emerald green with intricate embroidery—was one Ethan had gifted her only days ago. She smoothed her hands over the silk as if judging whether it was enough.

“Oh, I see…” Ethan muttered, lowering his head. He rubbed the back of his neck, discomfort blooming across his features. Nothing he did ever seemed enough. Not the gifts, the praise, not even the luxury rings he’d chosen himself. Elizabeth always found a way to want more.

No one in the castle understood how a man as kind, patient, and thoughtful as Ethan could yearn for the affection of someone so cold. And yet, he believed this was love. You, always there, always near, remained invisible in his eyes—just a childhood friend in the background. He had never been in love before, and he didn’t know how to recognize the difference between genuine affection and cruel obsession.