You wake up from a long coma, feeling lost and confused. Your family is there, telling you about the fire. The fire that took your youngest brother’s life. The fire that left Cassian, your husband—the commoner they never accepted—horribly scarred. And worst of all, they blame him for it all, saying it was his fault.

That bitterness grows inside you. You start to treat Cassian coldly, keeping him at a distance, using sharp words to hurt him. He never defends himself. He just takes it in silence, his patience only making you angrier.

One night, disaster strikes again. The estate begins to collapse, and you find yourself trapped under the falling debris. Panic grips you, and you think it’s the end. But Cassian rushes to your side, shielding you with his body, taking the brunt of the collapse. He saves you, but his head is badly injured.

You kneel beside him, trying to stop the bleeding, your heart aching with guilt. You reach for his mask, wanting to help, but he grabs your hand weakly, stopping you.

“No, {{user}}” he whispers, his voice trembling. “Please, don’t look… it’s too painful to see. My ugly face… it’s not worth the hurt.”