Adrian was trying.
That was the problem.
If he had been cruel, Marian could have hated him.
If he had been indifferent, she could have left.
If he had stopped caring, perhaps this would have been easier.
Instead—
He was trying.
And somehow that made everything hurt more.
Three days after the charity meeting, an invitation arrived.
Not through a servant.
Not through an aide.
Personally.
Which meant Adrian already knew she might refuse.
The realization irritated her.
Because he was correct.
Marian stared at the note.
Then sighed.
The man knew her too well.
Or perhaps—
A bitter thought surfaced.
Perhaps he used to.
She immediately ignored it.
Because if she continued thinking like that, she was going to become unbearable.
Even to herself.
The dinner took place in one of the smaller palace dining rooms.
Private.
Quiet.
Intimate.
A room Adrian reserved only for people he trusted.
For a moment, Marian hesitated at the doorway.
Because suddenly she remembered.
The first time he’d brought her here.
They had been fifteen.
Far too young.
Far too dramatic.
Adrian had informed her solemnly that one day they would make important decisions in this room.
Marian had stolen three desserts and nearly knocked over a vase.
Somehow both memories remained equally vivid.
The recollection softened her irritation slightly.
An unfortunate development.
When she entered, Adrian stood immediately.
As always.
A habit.
A gentleman’s reflex.
One she’d never managed to break.
"You came."
Marian narrowed her eyes.
"That sounds suspiciously like surprise."
"It sounds like relief."
The answer arrived too quickly.
Too honestly.
And despite herself, Marian felt something inside her chest loosen.
Just a little.
A dangerous amount.
Dinner began surprisingly well.
Which should have warned her.
The conversation flowed easily.
Naturally.
Like old times.
They discussed the Harvest Gala.
The latest court scandals.
A duke who had accidentally proposed marriage to the wrong twin.
An impressive achievement.
Marian laughed so hard she nearly dropped her fork.
For a while—
Everything felt normal.
Not perfect.
Normal.
And after the past several weeks, normal felt miraculous.
"You laughed."
Adrian sounded pleased.
Marian looked offended.
"I laugh constantly."
"Not lately."
The answer arrived gently.
Without accusation.
Without judgment.
Which somehow made it worse.
Because he was right.
The realization annoyed her.
As most accurate observations did.
For a few moments, neither spoke.
A comfortable silence.
The kind built from years.
The kind only possible between people who knew each other by heart.
Then Adrian smiled slightly.
"You remember when you tried to ride Sir Percival?"
Marian froze.
Immediately.
"No."
"A lie."
"No."
"You fell."
"I was pushed."
"By a horse."
"I maintain my innocence."
Adrian laughed.
The sound warmed the room.
And for one terrible moment, Marian almost forgot.
Almost.
Then Adrian ruined everything.
Entirely by accident.
Which somehow felt fitting.
"The provincial stables have improved significantly."
Marian raised an eyebrow.
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"Nothing."
Adrian reached for his wine.
Then added casually:
"Miss Hart pointed out several issues with their veterinary practices."
Silence.
Small.
Brief.
Yet suddenly all Marian could hear was:
Miss Hart.
Again.
The warmth she’d been feeling vanished instantly.
As though someone had opened a window in winter.
Adrian didn’t notice.
Of course he didn’t.
He continued speaking.
Entirely unaware.
"The mortality rate has already improved."
Marian stared.
Then looked down at her plate.
Then back up again.
And suddenly something inside her snapped.
Not dramatically.
Not loudly.
Quietly.
Like a thread finally breaking after weeks of strain.
"Do you realize how often you say her name?"
The words escaped before she could stop them.
Instant silence followed.
Adrian blinked.
Once.
Twice.
"What?"
Marian laughed.
A short sound.
Sharp.
Disbelieving.
Because of course he didn’t know.
Of course.
"You heard me."
The Crown Prince frowned.
Genuinely confused.
And somehow that hurt more than denial ever could.
"No."
Marian set down her fork.
Carefully.
Precisely.
Because if she didn’t, she might throw it.
And that would be undignified.
Probably.
"Elena."
The name felt strange.
Heavy.
More real than she’d expected.
"You say her name constantly."
Adrian stared.
Then shook his head.
"I don’t."
"You do."
"Marian—"
"You do."
The interruption came faster this time.
Sharper.
Years of frustration finally finding a target.
Not meetings.
Not schedules.
Not reports.
Her.
Finally her.
The person standing between them whether she intended to or not.
For a moment neither spoke.
Then Adrian leaned back slightly.
Processing.
Thinking.
The expression was painfully familiar.
The expression he wore whenever he approached a difficult problem.
Marian hated it immediately.
Because she wasn’t a problem.
She was his fiancée.
"You think this is about Elena."
The words landed softly.
Carefully.
As though Adrian feared breaking something.
Marian laughed again.
This time the sound held no amusement at all.
"I think?"
The repetition felt ridiculous.
Almost insulting.
"She’s in every conversation."
"Because she’s involved in the project."
"There it is."
Adrian frowned.
"What?"
"That."
Marian gestured helplessly.
Unable to stop herself now.
"You always have an explanation."
"Because there is one."
"Do you even hear yourself?"
The question slipped out before she could stop it.
Adrian’s expression hardened slightly.
Not anger.
Defensiveness.
The difference mattered.
Yet Marian disliked both.
"Nothing is happening between Elena and me."
The statement arrived immediately.
Certain.
Confident.
Absolute.
And Marian froze.
Not because she doubted him.
The horrifying thing was—
She believed him.
Completely.
That wasn’t the problem.
It hadn’t been the problem for a while now.
Slowly, Marian looked away.
Toward the window.
Toward the darkness beyond the glass.
Anywhere except Adrian.
Because suddenly she felt exhausted.
"So that’s what you think I’m asking."
The words came out quietly.
Too quietly.
Adrian fell silent.
For the first time all evening.
Completely silent.
Marian closed her eyes briefly.
Then laughed.
Softly.
Bitterly.
Because she finally understood.
The two of them weren’t even having the same argument.
Adrian thought she was accusing him of infidelity.
Of impropriety.
Of romance.
She wasn’t.
Not really.
The truth was worse.
Far worse.
Because she didn’t care whether he loved Elena.
Not yet.
She cared that Elena mattered.
That her opinions mattered.
That her thoughts mattered.
That somehow, over the past four months, Elena Hart had become woven into Adrian’s life so completely that he no longer noticed her presence.
The way people stopped noticing air.
Or sunlight.
Or breathing.
"Marian."
Her name sounded different this time.
Careful.
Uncertain.
Almost frightened.
Good.
Let him be frightened.
Just a little.
For once.
"You don’t understand."
The words slipped out before she could stop them.
Then she laughed softly.
Because that wasn’t fair either.
The problem was that Adrian didn’t understand.
And Marian no longer knew how to explain it.
The dinner ended shortly afterward.
Not dramatically.
Not explosively.
No shouting.
No accusations.
No broken engagements.
Just silence.
A terrible silence.
The kind that lingered.
The kind that followed people home.
The kind that remained long after the conversation ended.
And as Adrian watched Marian leave the room, a strange feeling settled inside his chest.
For the first time since they were children—
He had absolutely no idea how to fix this.
And that frightened him more than he wanted to admit.