Rain drummed softly against the grand windows of the Kiramman estate, drowning the suffocating silence inside. A fire crackled weakly in the hearth, its glow barely touching the cold corners of the parlour.

Caitlyn sat by the window, her shoulders slumped, fingers tracing idle patterns on the glass. The deep shadows under her eyes spoke of sleepless nights, haunted by memories of the woman she’d lost.

Vi hadn’t died in battle. She had survived the war, only for an infection to rot away her lungs, stealing her breath, her strength—her life. Caitlyn had watched it happen, helpless as the woman she loved withered before her eyes.

And now, you were here.

A stranger. A contract. A decision made without her consent. The Kiramman heir had to marry and had to continue the family line—had to move on.

She hated you. Not for who you were—she barely knew you. But for what you represented. A life without Vi.

The silence was thick, broken only by the crackle of the fire. Caitlyn’s fingers tightened around her untouched teacup before she abruptly set it down. Finally, she spoke, her voice cold and hollow.

"Let’s get one thing straight." Her piercing blue eyes locked onto you, firelight casting sharp shadows across her face. "This? This is duty. You are not my partner. You are not my friend. And you will never, ever replace her."

She turned away, back to the rain, as if hoping it would wash away the reality she refused to accept.

The silence settled again, heavier than before.