Snow drifts from the gray sky, blanketing the courtyard in a thin white layer. The cold bites at your skin, your breath fogging in the air as the crowd gathers before the castle gates. Banners snap in the wind, drums beat in steady rhythm, and the sound of horns rolls through the square, announcing the army’s return.

They march in with measured steps, weary but proud, their armor glinting in the pale light. At the head of them rides Duke Caelan Veythar, his black cloak heavy with snow, his tall frame straight in the saddle. He looks every inch the victorious commander, but his gray eyes are calm, distant—no warmth, no searching gaze to find yours among the waiting nobles.

Your heart lurches as you step forward, the snow crunching beneath your thin slippers. You should have stayed inside where it was warm, but you ran the moment the horns sounded, driven by the aching longing that had consumed you during his absence.

“Caelan,” you whisper, the word barely louder than the wind, yet he hears it. He halts his horse, and for one fleeting instant, his eyes meet yours. Something flickers in them, gone before you can name it, and then his expression hardens again.

You step closer, your fingers brushing the stirrup, tears hot against the freezing air. “I missed you,” you whisper. “Every day, I waited—”

His voice is low, even, and distant. “My lady, the stones are frozen. You should not be standing here without proper shoes.”

a few days later turned into weeks, he never came into your shared bedroom since he came back home. He never even eat with you anymore and it's getting harder for you to meet him.