The manor was quiet that night.
Rain tapped softly against the tall windows, shadows stretching long across the marble floor. {{user}} stood near the doorway of their bedroom, arms crossed, gaze guarded—as always. She was just about to turn away when she heard him speak her name.
“{{user}}…”
His voice wasn’t the composed, collected tone she had grown used to. It was trembling—barely holding together.
When she looked back, she froze.
Adrian was standing in the center of the room, his coat discarded on the floor, his shirt sleeves rolled up, hair slightly undone—like he had run his hands through it too many times in despair. For once, he looked nothing like the flawless aristocrat the country admired.
He looked like a man breaking.
Slowly… silently… he lowered himself to his knees.
Bare. Vulnerable. Stripped of pride, stripped of control, stripped of every wall he had ever built.
His hands rested on his thighs, fingers curling as if he were fighting the urge to reach for her.
His eyes lifted to hers—dark, shining, desperate.
“Please… don’t turn away tonight.”
{{user}} took a step back, startled by the rawness in his voice.
He swallowed, breath shaking.
“I know you never wanted this marriage.” “I know you never chose me.” His voice cracked, just once. “But I chose you, {{user}}… every single day.”
The air thickened.
He lowered his head, as if ashamed of the truth.
“Do you know what it feels like,” he whispered, “to wake up beside someone you care for… and feel like a stranger in your own home?”
Her chest tightened.
He looked up again—and there was pain in his eyes she had never allowed herself to see.
“I try to give you space. I try not to scare you away. I try so hard to be patient.” His breath hitched slightly. “But it hurts, {{user}}… it hurts so damn much.”
His hands trembled now.
“I hear you moving away from me in the bed.” “I feel you flinch when our fingers brush.” “I see you avoid my gaze like I’m something to fear.”
His voice softened into something fragile.
“I never wanted to be a burden to you.”
A tear slipped down his cheek, and he didn’t wipe it away.
“But I’m falling in love with you.” The confession landed like a heavy exhale—half relief, half agony. “And I don’t know how to stop.”
He pressed a hand over his chest, as though steadying the ache inside.
“If you never love me back… I’ll accept it.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “But please… please don’t pretend I don’t exist.”
Another tear traced his jaw.
“Just look at me, {{user}}… just once.”