The hot wind from the tracks whipped at Arlen’s neatly braided hair, tearing strands from the elegant coiffure she had painstakingly arranged all morning.
They flowed like waves with her urgent movements.
She pushed through the bustling crowd, craning her neck to scan the endless line of train cars.
‘Why…’ An ache spread through the back of her neck.
She gasped for breath in her restrictive dress, but she didn’t stop.
‘He’s not here.
Why isn’t he here?’
Her precise steps quickened with rising panic.
She moved down the line of stationary cars, her eyes darting to every window, but he was nowhere to be seen.
It was a moment of pure madness.
She was defying a royal command for the first time in her life, a choice so reckless it frightened her.
The carriage meant for Clemont Harbor had changed course to Edel Central Station on her whim.
This new, raw emotion was far stronger than she had ever imagined.
She was afraid of the person she was becoming.
But the thought of never seeing him again was the most suffocating terror of all.
She had to say this one thing to the man she might not see for three long years.
‘Otherwise, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.’ She still bitterly regretted never telling her father she loved him during his visit to Nortonburg.
Instead of asking when she could go home, she should have said something to make him happy.
She could not bear to repeat that cycle of endless, agonizing regret.
Just then, a train entering the station on the opposite track belched a cloud of steam that enveloped the platform.
Arlen waved a hand to clear her blurred vision, her eyes wide with the fear that she might have missed him in that fleeting moment.
She had searched every car, from first class to the very last, but he was gone.
“Dristan-bound!
The Dristan-bound train is departing now!”
Following the stationmaster’s shout, the train’s whistle shrieked, and steam shot powerfully into the air.
A wave of hot air washed over Arlen’s pale cheeks.
Her heart seized with panic.
She spun back toward the first-class section, and a rough impact sent her reeling.
“Ugh!” She had collided with a group of workers unloading a wooden crate, and her small body tumbled to the ground.
“Are… are you all right, Miss?” Several workers, their faces paling at her expensive dress, rushed to surround her.
“Are you hurt?
Here, take our hands…”
“W-wait.
Please, move.”
Her view was blocked by the burly men hovering over her.
They mistook her flailing hand for a gesture to stay back and, after a moment’s hesitation, hurried away.
But when they were gone, Arlen saw it: the Dristan-bound train, pulling away from the station.
“Oh no…”
Cruelly, the train picked up speed, moving too fast to follow as it disappeared around the end of the platform.
The world tilted.
Passersby glanced at her, but she didn’t notice.
The reality that he was gone, that she hadn’t even seen his face one last time, hit her with crushing force.
A single tear traced a path down her cheek.
The man who had offered her a hand when she was struggling.
The only one in this city who had listened to her, given her courage, and saved her life.
The man she had fallen in love with.
Her head dropped in despair, her trembling fingers brushing the gritty floor.
As she stared at the ground, unable to look up, a familiar cane entered her line of sight.
She blinked, then slowly raised her head.
A man was silhouetted against the brilliant morning sun.
Her eyes widened as she recognized him.
‘Liam Crawford.’
Sorrow warred with disbelief.
She blinked again as a large, firm hand was extended to her.
“What are you doing here?”
“…Duke… Crawford?” ‘Am I dreaming?’ It felt unreal.
She hesitated, unable to take his hand.
He closed the distance, his large hand enveloping hers and pulling her effortlessly to her feet.
In an instant, she was standing before him, his broad chest filling her vision.
It was him.
Unmistakably Liam.
‘He hasn’t left.’ It didn’t matter if she had gotten the time wrong.
A wave of relief so powerful it brought fresh tears to her eyes washed over her.
Her hand shot out, clutching his sleeve.
His gray-blue eyes flickered down to her hand, then rose to take in her tear-streaked face.
She bit her lip, trying to swallow the emotion surging in her throat, and slowly, she spoke.
“D-don’t go.”
He looked down at her, his expression unreadable.
“Why not?” he asked, his gaze slowly intensifying.
“Because…” Her eyes darted past him to the attendant holding a trunk.
‘He’s taking the next train.’ Panic clawed at her.
“I… I like you.
The one I like isn’t the Crown Prince.
It’s you.”
The confession tumbled out, trembling and faint between sobs.
‘I can’t let him go.’ The voice inside her, the one that screamed she would never see him again, had finally won.
Liam’s eyes shone with a cool, piercing light as he watched her pour out her heart.
“So… don’t leave.”
“Don’t leave,” he repeated softly, his tone languid.
It was a quiet command to finish.
Tears welled in her violet eyes.
“Please… stay by my side.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, the confession that had been a painful knot in her chest finally unraveling completely.
A slow smile curved his lips.
“You’re a reckless woman,” he whispered, his voice remarkably gentle.
The next moment, as she sobbed that she wanted to spend her life with him, he reached out and pulled her into his arms.
Her heart swelled.
A tear, as hot as the station air, finally fell, tracing a path down her cheek.
‘It wasn’t a mistake.’ Relief washed through her.
He wasn’t leaving.
Held in his embrace, she tilted her head back to look up at him.
“You’re… not going?”
His expression had softened, almost refreshed.
He held her small body close and smiled.
His thumb gently brushed the tears from her cheek as she waited for his answer.
The hand that had swept across her lips slid down to wrap possessively around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest.
Her heart fluttered.
He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered, “If that is what you wish.”
Behind them, a flash of light burst like a midsummer meteor, sealing the moment.
“Extra!
Extra!
Arlen Sermont, fiancée of the Crown Prince, officially requests annulment from the royal family!”
At the newsboy’s cry in Loa Square, ladies and gentlemen alike tossed him coins.
A single photograph—a woman sobbing, clinging desperately to a departing duke instead of greeting the returning prince—had pushed all other news from the front page.
For over a week, Arlen’s tear-stained face was seen by every citizen in Edel.
It was the definitive proof of the secret affair between Liam Crawford and Arlen Sermont, and the papers sold like hotcakes.
The scandal that had appeared from nowhere was on everyone’s lips.
The previous articles had been speculation, but this was a photograph.
The romantic image of them embracing on a deserted platform was as dramatic as a scene from the love story of the century.
It was undeniably a picture of two lovers.
The photo proved every rumor that had come before it.
After weeks of silence, the two had finally made their relationship official, followed swiftly by the news of Arlen’s request for annulment.
Amid the public fervor, the room where Arlen sat was thick with a heavy silence.
“All that remains is the signature of Lady Arlen Sermont.”
With a tense expression, Arlen signed the document presented by the stern-faced royal lawyer.
As she read through the pages of dense text, she could feel the burn of disapproving eyes on her cheeks.
“Do not forget Her Majesty’s command,” the lawyer said coolly.
“This matter is to be concluded quietly with the payment of compensation.”
“Compensation?” Arlen’s eyes widened.