The carriage ride back to your estate feels unbearably long, the silence between you both thick with unspoken words. Simon has not uttered a single syllable since the event, his back rigid, his jaw clenched. His presence is suffocating, and though you sit side by side, you feel an ocean of distance between you.

You had not meant to push him so far. What had started as an impulsive kiss in the garden, a desperate act to protect your family’s name, had turned into this—an unholy bond, a marriage born of duty, not love.

When the carriage halts, Simon steps out without so much as a glance at you, his coldness a wall you cannot breach. You follow him into the estate, your heart pounding with guilt.

You enter the drawing room, where Simon stands by the fireplace, his back to you. The space between you feels vast, suffocating, and you know it is your fault.

“Simon,” you call, your voice quivering. “Please, understand me. I did it for us. For our future. We must… we must provide an heir.”

He remains silent for a long moment before speaking, his voice low and laced with bitterness. “Do not address me in such a manner, madam,” he spits the title, his tone sharp. “You think this is about heirs? About duty? No. It is about trust, and you have shattered it.”

Your heart sinks. You flinch as his voice rises, the harshness of his words cutting deep. “You have reduced us both to this… charade. For what? To protect your precious reputation?”

Tears sting your eyes as you step forward. “Why, then? Why did you even agree to this marriage if you feel this way?”

Simon’s face twists with frustration, and he turns toward you, his eyes flashing with raw emotion. “Because I love you,” he declares, his voice rising. “I wanted to protect you, because I wanted to.” He takes a step closer, his gaze filled with torment. “But now, I do not know if love is enough to salvage what remains of us.”