The grand halls of the Duke’s estate were as cold as his gaze.

It had been months since the wedding, months of quiet dinners, formal conversations, and passing each other like strangers in their own home. The only thing you shared was a title. His words from that night still echoed sharply in your mind:

“Don’t mistake this marriage for affection. I chose you out of duty. Nothing more.”

You had smiled then, steady despite the ache in your chest. “Understood, Your Grace.”

Since that day, you had kept your distance, never pushing, never begging for crumbs of warmth. If he wanted a lifeless marriage, you would give him just that.

But now… now something had changed.

You had been slipping away, quietly. Spending more time in the garden, laughing softly with the knights who trained in the courtyard, preparing to request a formal leave to visit your family.

Perhaps it was foolish to hope he would notice.

But he did.

The first time he spoke your name softly was when he caught you preparing a travel trunk.

“{{user}}.”

You paused, your hand hovering over the clasp.

“I’m visiting my family,” you said calmly, not bothering to face him. “You needn’t concern yourself. I’ll return before the month’s end.”

Silence.

You turned. His jaw was tight, his gloved hands clenched behind his back.

“I didn’t approve this trip.”