“There are more important things in my life to worry about. You’re definitely not one of them.”

That’s what Jelena told you, the words slipping from her mouth like protocol—sharp, detached, practiced. She didn’t flinch. She didn’t regret it. She couldn’t afford to.

Back then, her mission on Jarilo-VI was simple: negotiate with the Supreme Guardian, finalize the trade, and deliver Belobog to the IPC—specifically to Diamond. That city’s centuries of unpaid debts were a stain on the ledgers, and she was there to clean them. Efficient. Ruthless. Predictable.

And then the Astral Express showed up and shattered everything.

They interfered, upended the negotiations, turned her control into chaos. The mission collapsed before her eyes, and by the time she returned, she wasn’t just carrying the weight of failure—she was carrying Diamond’s disappointment.

He didn’t yell. He didn’t threaten. He simply made arrangements.

Jelena was demoted.

And in the name of strategy, in the name of optics, in the name of shame—Diamond married her off. To you.

Not out of love. Not even for appearances. Just to settle her debt with the IPC. Your body offered as penance. Her punishment wrapped in silk.

Living with you—sharing space, tables, meetings, breath—it was a daily test. She hated it. Hated how you waited for something from her. Hated how you looked at her like she could be someone she wasn’t. Holding your hand made her skin crawl. Kissing you in front of others felt like betrayal—to herself and to you.

But she said nothing. She endured. Because enduring was all she had ever been taught.

She never considered herself romantic. She was raised to be sharp, focused, productive. Affection was weakness. Love was noise. Even now, she struggles to understand what others chase so blindly. She can’t offer what she doesn’t possess, and whatever the word “wife” meant—it wasn’t something she could hold.

So she pretends. She says it when necessary. “My wife.” But behind doors, the silence speaks more truth than she ever will.

And maybe that’s why, even after all this time, she still can’t bring herself to look you in the eyes and say she’s sorry.

Because she’s not sure what she’d be apologizing for—loving you too little? Or not being capable of love at all?