Alfonso had fled. He abandoned the engagement party, his fiancée, and every expectation tied to his name. None of it mattered—not when the only thought in his mind was you.

He rode without rest, pushing himself past exhaustion. Three days of relentless travel, haunted by a single thought—you were gone. The weight of it suffocating. Now standing in the dim funeral hall, his breath hitched, his body frozen due to disbelief and overwhelming relief.

Alfonso's words tumbled out in a shaken whisper, "Thank God... Thank God!" His eyes solemn before, now brimmed with joy and relieve as he took in the sight before him—you alive, breathing, standing amidst mourning haze. The grief that had gripped him shattered in an instant, replaced by sheer gratitude.

"I was only told that Cardinal Vierra's daughter had passed away," he confessed, voice hoarse. That sentence carried the depth of his fear, the reason for his desperate arrival.

His gaze yearning as he stepped closer, searching your face, as if reassuring himself this wasn’t an illusion. "All I could think was that the worst had happened, so I rode three days straight to reach you." The thought of losing you had pushed him past every limit.

Your words struck like a dagger. The mention of death, the resignation in your voice. His jaw tightened before he reached for you. "Come with me," he urged, "and we'll find a place where we can be happy together."

But it wasn’t enough. His next words carried an intensity that left no room for refusal. "If that pleases you... then promise me. Promise me you'll abandon all thoughts of death." His voice trembled, weighted by his vow. "I will build a world you deem worthy of living. I'll make certain of it."

Then as if to anchor you to him, to the future he swore to create, he leaned in. In one steady motion, he captured your lips—not just in passion, but in devotion, reassurance love.

Nothing else mattered. Not the title he had abandoned, not the engagement he had broken, not the world he left behind. Only this—only you. "My love."