Marian told herself she was overreacting.
Repeatedly.
Unfortunately, repetition did not make it true.
The following morning, she woke up irritated.
Not devastated.
Not heartbroken.
Irritated.
Which somehow felt worse.
Because irritation lingered.
Heartbreak at least sounded dramatic.
Irritation simply followed a person around all day.
Like an unwanted servant.
"You’re sulking."
Marian looked up.
Her father sat across the breakfast table.
Looking entirely too observant.
A terrible quality.
"I am not."
"You are."
"I am reflecting."
"You’re stabbing your toast."
Marian glanced downward.
The toast had indeed suffered significant damage.
Traitor.
"That proves nothing."
The Duke sighed.
A familiar sound.
One she had caused many times throughout her life.
"What did Adrian do?"
The question startled her.
Because it arrived immediately.
Without hesitation.
As though her father already knew the answer.
"He didn’t do anything."
The Duke raised an eyebrow.
Marian hated when people did that.
Particularly when they were correct.
"He cancelled our afternoon."
"Because?"
"Work."
The Duke nodded.
Reasonable.
Infuriatingly reasonable.
"He does have responsibilities."
"I know."
The answer came immediately.
Too immediately.
Because that wasn’t the problem.
And she couldn’t explain why.
Not even to herself.
The truly annoying part was that Adrian returned exactly as promised.
Perhaps slightly later.
But close enough.
He even brought flowers.
Which should have helped.
It didn’t.
Because flowers weren’t the issue.
The issue was that she kept remembering the pause.
That tiny pause.
The moment he’d considered her request.
Then chosen differently.
The memory refused to disappear.
No matter how unreasonable she knew it was.
Three days later, Adrian arrived at the Valmont estate.
Precisely on schedule.
As always.
The servants adored him.
The Duke trusted him.
The dogs liked him.
A suspicious circumstance.
Marian occasionally suspected Adrian possessed magical powers.
No one should be that universally liked.
It was unnatural.
"Good afternoon."
"Hello."
Adrian paused.
Immediately.
"You’re still upset."
Marian blinked.
Then looked offended.
"Still?"
The Crown Prince sighed.
Wrong answer.
Clearly.
"What I meant was—"
"I know what you meant."
Unfortunately.
That was part of the problem.
Adrian always expected her to understand him.
Usually she did.
Today she wasn’t feeling charitable.
"You’ve been avoiding me."
"I have not."
The answer arrived too quickly.
Which meant Adrian knew it wasn’t entirely true.
Marian hated that.
The man knew her too well.
Then again—
She knew him too well too.
Which was precisely why she noticed the exhaustion beneath his eyes.
The tension in his shoulders.
The subtle distraction.
A strange feeling stirred inside her chest.
Concern.
Immediately followed by annoyance.
An irritating combination.
"You’re tired."
The observation escaped before she could stop it.
Adrian looked surprised.
Then smiled slightly.
"There have been complications."
Marian already knew what he was going to say.
She somehow knew.
Even before the words arrived.
"The medical initiative?"
Adrian nodded.
There it was.
Again.
Not Elena.
The project.
The initiative.
The reports.
The meetings.
The responsibilities.
And somehow every path led back to the same place.
Marian smiled.
Because years of noble training remained useful.
"I’m glad it’s going well."
The lie tasted strange.
Not because she wasn’t glad.
Because she wasn’t sure anymore.
That evening, after Adrian left, Marian found herself sitting beside a window.
Reading.
Or pretending to read.
The distinction mattered.
Because she hadn’t turned a page in nearly twenty minutes.
A knock interrupted her thoughts.
"Come in."
One of her maids entered.
Carrying a stack of invitations.
A threat.
Immediately.
"The Spring Charity Gala requires confirmation."
Marian groaned.
Another social event.
Wonderful.
"And?"
The maid hesitated.
An unfortunate sign.
"There is something else."
Marian looked up.
The maid looked uncomfortable.
Even more unfortunate.
"What?"
"The guest list was updated."
The maid handed over a document.
Marian accepted it.
Curious despite herself.
Her eyes drifted down the page.
Noble houses.
Government officials.
Military representatives.
Nothing unusual.
Then—
Her gaze stopped.
Elena Hart.
Marian stared.
Not because Elena’s presence was surprising.
It wasn’t.
Not anymore.
That might have been the problem.
The heroine had become part of palace life so naturally that seeing her name among nobles no longer seemed strange.
Just expected.
A strange thought.
One Marian wasn’t sure she liked.
She handed the list back.
"Thank you."
The maid departed.
The room grew quiet again.
Marian looked toward the window.
Toward the darkening sky.
Then suddenly remembered something.
A thought from long ago.
A thought she’d nearly forgotten.
Back when she was younger.
Back when she’d first realized she was living inside a novel.
She had been terrified.
Terrified of Elena.
Terrified of losing Adrian.
Terrified of the future.
Then years had passed.
And she’d fallen in love.
Really fallen in love.
Somewhere along the way, she’d stopped being afraid.
Because she’d convinced herself reality had changed.
That Adrian loved her too much.
That their history mattered too much.
That eighteen years outweighed destiny.
Maybe it still did.
Maybe she was being ridiculous.
Maybe nothing was wrong.
Yet for the first time in a very long time—
Marian wasn’t completely sure.
And uncertainty, she discovered, was far more frightening than fear.