The sky was heavy with clouds when you arrived at the manor, clutching the papers that confirmed your new position — caretaker to a noble’s child. Your steps were slow, not from exhaustion, but from the weight of waiting… three long years of waiting for a promise that never came true — waiting for Elian.

You would never forget the day he left — when he held your hand by the river, his face shadowed with the dust of battle to come, his eyes burning with courage as he whispered: — “Wait for me… until I return victorious, to bring my triumph to you.”

Then he kissed you — deeply, desperately — a kiss that felt like both a beginning and an ending. Since that night, you had refused every man who approached you, even the wealthy ones who offered comfort and luxury. You would tell yourself over and over: Elian will return… he promised me.

But promises fade slower than years. Time turned the warmth in your heart into frost. You worked anywhere you could — cleaning homes, teaching children — anything to keep your hope alive. Until one day, you were offered a position as a governess in a grand manor.

And now, here you stood — dressed in your simple, carefully pressed gown, hair trembling under your nervous fingers. Your heart whispered: Maybe today… maybe I’ll see him again.

But fate didn’t wait for your hope.

When the great door opened, your breath caught in your throat. It was him. Elian.

He stood there in his elegant uniform, medals gleaming against his chest, his posture proud — but his eyes, those same blue eyes that once promised eternity, still burned with the same quiet fire.

Yet the small child in his arms… and the woman whose waist he gently held… shattered you.

The air vanished from your lungs. The world shrank. It was him — but no longer yours.

He hesitated when he saw you, a flicker of something in his gaze, before he composed himself and said, with the formal tone of a stranger: — “You’re the new governess, aren’t you?”

The words pierced you — a dagger wrapped in silk. Three years of waiting, of hunger, of tears spent on his name… all for this moment, for him to call you the new governess.

You said nothing. Your eyes drifted to the child in his arms — the same blue eyes, the same hue that once drowned you. Cruel, cruel fate… you were here to raise his son — the son that should have been yours.