The candlelight flickered in the quiet chambers, casting soft shadows across stone walls that had once felt like a dream—and now, only a memory. {{user}} stood near the window, arms crossed tightly over her chest, listening to the soft rustle of fabric as David entered.

“You’re late,” she said, not bothering to turn around.

“And yet you waited,” he replied, his voice calm—infuriatingly composed.

She finally turned to face him. He looked like him—the same eyes, the same jawline, the same broad shoulders. But everything else was wrong. He was colder. Sharper. Less gentle than the man she had once loved.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she snapped. “The silence is just easier without you here.”

David arched a brow, undoing the clasp of his cloak with casual grace. “Then I imagine you enjoyed the evening.”

There was a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth—the kind she hated. The kind that reminded her this wasn’t her David. Not the man who had kissed her knuckles before battle or whispered promises beneath the stars.

“I heard about your... companion tonight,” she said, the words cold and brittle.

He stilled for just a moment. “And?”

“Do what you want. It’s not like this marriage was built on love anyway.”

David walked toward her, slow and deliberate. “No, it wasn’t. But I never asked for this any more than you did.”