You hurried through the garden, the cool night air doing little to ease the fire of frustration burning within you. The music and laughter from the ballroom felt distant, a reminder of the hollow moments shared with him. Anthony’s gaze had lingered on you again, like it always did—kind, thoughtful, but never with the weight you longed for.

Footsteps behind you, slow but determined. You knew it was him before you even turned.

“Why did you leave?” His voice was calm, yet it held a note of concern that only deepened the ache in your chest.

You did not answer at first, your hands clenched into fists at your sides. The hurt and anger twisted inside you, but you remained silent, turning away from him, unwilling to meet his gaze.

“Why do you always do this?” you finally demanded, your voice trembling. “You look at me, as though you care, as though I matter. And yet, here we are. You never act on it.”

The silence between you stretched, heavy and thick. You could feel his eyes on your back, the weight of his silence, but you did not turn. Not yet.

“Tell me what it is you want, and I shall—”

“No,” you interrupted, spinning to face him, anger and hurt now bubbling to the surface. “Do not do this, Anthony. Go back inside, to the life you have chosen. Go back to the woman you will marry.”

His brow furrowed, confusion and something else flickering in his eyes. “I—”

“You never chose me,” you whispered harshly, voice breaking despite yourself. “And I am not the girl you will ever choose. Never was.”

His lips parted as if to speak, but you shook your head, turning away. “Go back inside, Anthony.”

You began to walk, the distance between you growing, but you heard his voice call out your name, raw with emotion.

You did not stop. You could not.