Clutching the thin hospital gown around herself, Isobel quietly left the room and made her way toward the nursery, carrying the shattered pieces of her heart with every step.
"Kristoff... is that our child?"
The sweet, intimate voice drifted through the quiet hospital corridor like a knife slicing through Isobel’s chest.
Startled, her footsteps halted instantly.
She quickly stepped back and hid behind one of the marble pillars before anyone could notice her presence. Her fingers tightened around the edge of the wall as her breathing became uneven.
Then she heard the woman speak again.
"He’s so handsome," the woman said softly with a delighted laugh. "He looks so much like you."
Unable to stop herself, Isobel carefully peeked from behind the pillar.
What she saw made her heart ache unexpectedly.
Kristoff stood beneath the warm hallway lights, the newborn baby cradled securely in his arms. Beside him was a woman wrapped elegantly in a cream-colored coat, her arm naturally circling his waist as though she belonged there.
As though she had always belonged there.
Kristoff finally lifted his gaze from the little bundle in his arms and looked down at the woman beside him.
Charlotte.
The moment their eyes met, his expression softened.
Isobel’s chest tightened painfully.
Charlotte had a gentle smile on her beautiful face, the kind that could easily make people lower their guard. Even from a distance, Isobel could see how stunning she was.
Tall, slender and graceful.
She looked like someone who had stepped straight out of a luxury magazine cover—elegant enough to stand beside a man like Kristoff without being overshadowed by his imposing presence.
Next to him, she appeared delicate and refined.
A perfect match.
But Isobel barely paid attention to Charlotte’s beauty.
What shattered her composure was the way Kristoff looked at her.
Those cold eyes that usually intimidated everyone suddenly carried a warmth Isobel had never seen before. His gaze was gentle, affectionate... almost worshipful.
As if, in that moment, he could see no one else in the world except Charlotte.
The realization pierced through Isobel silently.
So... this is how he is with the woman he loved.
A bitter ache spread through her chest.
She had always known the truth from the very beginning. What existed between her and Kristoff had merely been a one-year transaction. A contract. Nothing more.
There had never been promises. Never been love.
And yet...
Isobel lowered her eyes, pressing a hand weakly against her chest as though trying to ease the strange pain tightening around her heart.
No matter how much she tried to deny it, she could not honestly say she felt nothing for him.
Kristoff was the first man in her life.
And perhaps that was why seeing him look at another woman with such tenderness hurt far more than she expected.
He was the first one to undress her carefully, as though she was something fragile in his hands...
The first to teach her the unfamiliar language of intimacy—and the unimaginable pleasure it brought her...
The first to show her the silent meanings hidden behind fingertips brushing skin, lingering gazes in the dark, and the dangerous comfort of waking up beside someone every morning.
"Isobel... we need to work harder."
His low voice had brushed against her ear one night after they collapsed breathless against tangled sheets.
"The more often we do this," he murmured lazily, pulling her closer against his chest, "the higher the chances of getting pregnant."
Then his desire for her seemed impossible to restrain. There were nights he barely let her sleep, pulling her back into his arms again and again until dawn painted the curtains gold.
One time, Isobel had blushed furiously.
Her heart raced so hard she could barely breathe as she looked up at him with shining eyes filled with feelings she was too inexperienced to hide.
Adoration. Affection. Something dangerously close to love.
Kristoff noticed immediately.
His expression hardened almost at once.
The warmth in his eyes disappeared, replaced by the cold restraint she had learned to fear.
"Remember what I told you before you signed the contract," he said quietly.
His voice was calm, but sharp enough to wound.
"Don’t fall in love with me."
Isobel’s smile froze.
Kristoff looked directly into her eyes as though making sure she understood every word. "My heart already belongs to someone else."
It felt as though a bucket of ice water had been poured over her head. Every bit of warmth inside her disappeared instantly.
But Isobel still forced herself to smile.
"I understand," she whispered softly, pretending her chest was not aching. Pretending her heart had not just cracked a little.
After that night, nothing outwardly changed.
Kristoff still came home every day. He still stayed beside her. Still took care of her with a gentleness that confused her heart more and more each passing day.
And somewhere during those long nights together, Isobel forgot that everything between them had started with a contract.
For three months, they shared the same bed before she finally became pregnant.
When her pregnancy became difficult, he personally carried her down the stairs. He monitored her meals, reminded her to rest, and stayed awake beside her whenever she felt unwell.
And at night...
He continued teaching her other ways of pleasures she had never imagined existed.
Yet even in passion, Kristoff remained unbearably gentle with her.
As though she mattered.
That was what made everything so cruel.
Again and again, Isobel reminded herself not to fall for him.
She was only a borrowed womb. A temporary woman in his life.
But how was she supposed to protect her heart when he treated her with a tenderness she had never experienced before?
She was only human. And humans were weak against kindness.
Especially women who had spent most of their lives receiving a little love.
In matters of intimacy, Kristoff became her teacher. And Isobel learned quickly.
She learned the subtle changes in his breathing, the things that pleased him, the moments when his control started slipping away. Sometimes, in the middle of passion, Kristoff would whisper her name against her skin with such raw tenderness that her heart would tremble violently inside her chest.
"Isobel..."
At first, hearing him say her name frightened her.
Because part of her wondered—
What if one day it wouldn’t be her name he whispered?
What if, in a moment of weakness, he accidentally called out another woman’s name instead?
Charlotte. The woman he truly loved.