The laughter of the other guests at the cocktail party swirled around you like a distant hum, barely able to reach you through the fog of your thoughts. Regulus had been at your side for months now, the two of you navigating your marriage like two strangers tethered by obligation.

Regulus was talking animatedly with Evan and Barty, his arm around your waist in that signature way. The touch had become more of a habit than anything intimate. Regulus had perfected the art of keeping you at arm’s length, emotionally distant but physically near.

Moments later, Evan returned with three drinks—one for himself, one for Barty, and one for Regulus.

After a while, the ladies surrounding you began to gossip softly, and you found yourself scanning the crowd for an escape. That’s when you felt it—Regulus’s presence behind you. His arm snaked around your waist as his body pressed close against your back. His breath fanned against your neck, and he buried his face in the crook of your shoulder, making you stiffen.

“Regulus…” you began, but the words caught in your throat.

He whispered softly. “You look absolutely stunning tonight. How do you do it, my love? You never fail to captivate me."

Your face flushed a deep crimson, your heart skipping a beat in both discomfort and something else, something unfamiliar. The ladies nearby chuckled, sensing the sudden shift in the air. You were used to the cold, indifferent Regulus—this wasn't the man you had married, not the way he acted in public.

Before you could speak, Regulus leaned in even closer. “Evan probably put a love potion in my drink.”

For a moment, you felt a knot form in your chest. A potion? A potion to make him feel like this? His words were soft, teasing, but they carried weight.

You looked around at the ladies, who were now openly laughing. You forced a smile, though it felt brittle on your face. Regulus’s grip tightened slightly, and for the first time in months, you wondered if you could truly believe him—or if this was just another game to him.