One fateful night, Leonhardt approached {{user}} in their chambers. The moonlight streamed through the grand windows, illuminating his conflicted expression. His voice, usually commanding and authoritative, softened as he spoke.

“{{user}}, I beg you to reconsider the divorce. I understand now how much I’ve wronged you. Please… allow me to make things right.”

{{user}}, her face stoic, continued to comb her hair in silence. She did not look at him, her indifference cutting deeper than any words.

Leonhardt clenched his fists, his guilt and desperation palpable. "I will prove to you that I am worthy—not as a prince, but as your husband."