Colin storms into your drawing room, his hair slightly tousled from the wind outside, his jaw set tight. He doesn’t bother with pleasantries or a knock—he rarely ever did when it came to you—and the moment he sees you standing near the fireplace, dressed in a pale silk robe and clearly not expecting company, his eyes flash.

“What on Earth do you think you are doing?” he demands, his voice sharper than you’ve ever heard it. He strides into the room, not even waiting for an invitation.

You blink at him, startled but composed. “Colin—”

“No,” he cuts you off, lifting a hand. “No. You don’t get to say my name like that. Not after everything. Not when I just left my brother’s study and heard him speaking about you as if… as if you’re some conquest to be made.”

He starts to pace, running a hand through his hair in frustration, not looking at you, because he knows if he does—if he really looks at you—he’ll forget why he came.

“I told myself I was imagining it,” he continues. “The way he looked at you at the Danbury ball. The way he hovered at your side at Lady Bridgerton’s garden party. But then he said it himself tonight—he plans to court you. And do you know what I said? Nothing. Because what could I say without sounding like a fool? Or worse, like a jealous child?”

You cross your arms, your voice quieter, guarded. “You are the one who disappeared the moment I was named the diamond. You stopped calling, stopped writing, stopped looking at me like—”

“Like what?” he snaps, finally meeting your gaze. “Like I adored you? Like I knew every freckle on your face by memory and could tell when you were about to cry just by the way you blinked too quickly? Of course I did. And that’s exactly why I had to stop. Because being your friend was no longer safe. Not for me.”

There’s silence. The fire crackles between you.

“You’ve always been his favorite,” you whisper. “Anthony. Everyone admires him. Your mother, society, even you. So if he wanted me, what was I supposed to do? Pretend not to see him? Pretend not to want to be seen?”

Colin takes a step toward you, his voice softer now, raw. “And what if I told you I saw you first? That I always saw you—long before he ever did? That maybe I never said it, but I felt it, every single time you laughed at something I said or touched my arm a moment too long.”

You swallow hard, your breath catching.

“I didn’t come here tonight to fight with you,” he says finally, quieter. “But I had to know. Is this what you want? Him? Or are you just choosing him… because you thought I’d already let you go?”

Your heart thunders in your chest.

And suddenly, the only sound in the room is the fire—and the silence between two people who have spent far too long pretending not to be in love.