The first time Marian noticed, she told herself it meant nothing.
Unfortunately, that was becoming a habit.
The realization annoyed her.
Because she was running out of things to dismiss.
Four months.
Elena Hart had been in the capital for four months.
Four months of medical projects.
Four months of committee meetings.
Four months of hearing her name.
And somehow, somewhere along the way, things had begun to change.
Three days before the Harvest Gala, Adrian cancelled lunch.
Again.
The message arrived shortly after noon.
Accompanied by flowers.
As usual.
Marian stared at the bouquet.
Then at the letter.
Then back at the bouquet.
The flowers were beautiful.
That almost made it worse.
Because Adrian remembered.
He always remembered.
The flowers she liked.
The tea she preferred.
The books she loved.
The shade of blue she wore most often.
He remembered everything.
Except lately—
He kept forgetting her.
The thought arrived before she could stop it.
And for the first time, she couldn’t convince herself it was unfair.
That afternoon, Marian wandered through one of the palace libraries.
Not because she wanted to read.
Because she was irritated.
Books were simply nearby.
Unfortunately.
As she turned a corner, familiar voices reached her ears.
Adrian.
And Elena.
Marian stopped.
The two stood several shelves away.
Talking.
Nothing inappropriate.
Nothing scandalous.
Nothing she could reasonably object to.
Which was becoming a recurring problem.
They were discussing medicine distribution.
Funding.
Provincial logistics.
Important things.
Boring things.
The sort of things Marian had absolutely no interest in.
Then Elena laughed.
And Adrian smiled.
Immediately.
Effortlessly.
The sight made something inside her chest twist.
Because she knew that smile.
She had spent years earning it.
Years.
And now Elena received it naturally.
Without effort.
Without even realizing it.
The thought felt ugly.
Petty.
Jealous.
Marian hated it instantly.
Yet it remained.
She should have walked away.
Instead she stayed.
Only for a moment.
Only long enough to realize something far worse.
The conversation flowed easily.
Naturally.
Comfortably.
When was the last time she and Adrian had spoken like that?
Not about schedules.
Not about duties.
Not about obligations.
Just talked.
The answer didn’t come.
Because she didn’t know.
And somehow that hurt.
More than she expected.
That evening Adrian arrived at the Valmont estate.
Unannounced.
Concern visible the moment he saw her.
"You’re avoiding me."
Marian almost laughed.
The audacity.
The absolute audacity.
"I am not."
"You are."
"You’re one to talk."
The words escaped before she could stop them.
Adrian blinked.
Immediately.
Caught off guard.
Good.
She wanted him caught off guard.
She was tired of being the only one.
"Marian."
"What?"
The answer came sharper than intended.
Neither of them liked it.
The silence that followed stretched uncomfortably.
Then Adrian stepped closer.
Concern replacing confusion.
"Have I done something?"
The question hit harder than it should have.
Because he sounded genuine.
Genuinely confused.
Genuinely worried.
As though he truly had no idea.
And somehow that made everything worse.
Marian stared at him.
Waiting.
One second.
Two.
Three.
Nothing.
No realization.
No understanding.
Nothing.
The silence snapped.
"Are you serious?"
Adrian frowned.
"What?"
A short laugh escaped her.
Disbelieving.
"You really don’t know?"
"Know what?"
Marian stared.
Then looked away.
Because suddenly she felt angry.
Not dramatic anger.
Not explosive anger.
The kind that builds slowly over weeks.
The kind that sits quietly in your chest.
Waiting.
"You cancelled lunch."
"Because of work."
"You cancelled our afternoon."
"Marian—"
"You forgot dinner with my father."
Silence.
A tiny silence.
Then Adrian’s expression changed.
Only slightly.
But Marian saw it.
The memory.
The realization.
He had forgotten.
The sight hurt far more than she expected.
"You forgot."
"Marian, I—"
"You forgot."
This time her voice came out softer.
And somehow that was worse.
Because now Adrian looked horrified.
Not defensive.
Horrified.
As though he genuinely hadn’t realized.
As though he had only just remembered.
Which wasn’t better.
Not even a little.
"So that’s what this is about?"
The moment the words left his mouth, Adrian knew they were wrong.
Marian saw it happen.
Saw the regret.
Too late.
Far too late.
Her eyes widened.
"What this is about?"
"No, that’s not what I meant."
"Then what did you mean?"
"Marian."
"No."
She stood.
Immediately.
The movement abrupt enough to surprise even herself.
"I don’t care about the lunch."
The words came out before she could stop them.
"I don’t care about dinner."
"Then what do you care about?"
The question hung between them.
Heavy.
Dangerous.
And suddenly Marian realized she didn’t know how to answer.
Not properly.
Not in a way Adrian would understand.
Because the problem wasn’t a cancelled meal.
It wasn’t a forgotten appointment.
It wasn’t even Elena.
Not exactly.
The problem was the feeling.
The feeling that she was slowly becoming second place.
And she hated it.
Hated it enough that her eyes stung.
"I care that lately it feels like everything comes before me."
Silence.
Complete silence.
Adrian froze.
For the first time all evening.
Genuinely stunned.
Marian laughed.
A terrible sound.
Because suddenly she realized he truly hadn’t known.
He hadn’t noticed.
Not once.
Not even a little.
"And don’t tell me it’s work."
Her voice trembled.
Slightly.
Enough to make her furious with herself.
"Because I know you."
Adrian looked at her carefully.
Very carefully.
Then said quietly:
"Then tell me what you’re really saying."
The words landed like a challenge.
A plea.
A warning.
All at once.
And for one terrible second, Elena’s name rose to the surface.
Waiting.
One word.
One accusation.
One line neither of them could uncross.
Marian almost said it.
Almost.
Then stopped.
Because despite everything—
She still wasn’t sure.
And uncertainty terrified her.
More than anger.
More than jealousy.
More than anything.
The silence that followed felt endless.
Eventually Adrian spoke.
His voice lower now.
Quieter.
"I didn’t realize."
The admission should have helped.
Instead Marian felt exhausted.
Because it was true.
He hadn’t realized.
That was the problem.
"I know."
The answer came out softly.
Too softly.
And somehow that hurt them both.
For the first time since they were children, neither knew what to say next.
And standing only a few feet apart—
Marian and Adrian had never felt farther away.
Outside, the late summer sun slowly disappeared beyond the horizon.
And neither of them noticed.
Too busy staring at the distance that had quietly grown between them.