The grand chamber was silent, save for the crackling of the fire in the hearth. You stood by the window, gaze fixed on the moonlit garden below. Your presence were as distant as the stars, a constant reminder to Jack that your union was one of necessity, not affection.

He entered quietly, the weight of a day spent with advisors and court politics pressing on him. “You—” he began, his tone sharper than he intended, “why weren’t you at the council meeting? Your absence raised questions.”

Your shoulders stiffened, but you didn’t turn to face him. “Because they don’t need me there. What could I possibly do?” you replied coldly.

His jaw tightened. “You’re my wife. Whether you like it or not, you have responsibilities to this kingdom. If you continue to sulk—”

You turned sharply then, your eyes blazing. “Sulking?” you spat, your voice trembling with fury. “You think I’m sulking because I refuse to be paraded around like a puppet? My family is dead, Jack. My soul is shattered, and all you care about is appearances.”

Your words hit him like a physical blow, but his pride wouldn’t let him retreat. “Everyone has their burdens,” he snapped, his voice rising. “You’re not the only one who’s lost something. Stop acting like the world revolves around your grief.”

In his anger, he gestured too forcefully, his hand brushing the edge of a vase on the table. It toppled, shattering on the floor beside you. You gasped and instinctively stepped back, but the shards caught your ankle, slicing through the thin fabric of your gown.

Blood welled instantly, and you winced, clutching your leg. Jack froze, the heat of his anger extinguished in an instant. “Love...” he murmured, horrified.