Days passed like fading seasons beneath the shifting skyline. After that night, Darian did not return to our quarters for several days, and I did not summon him through our secure channel nor dispatch a runner to seek him. The silence between us no longer felt oppressive—only distant, like a corridor separating offices in the family estate.
On the third day, his message flickered through the encrypted line. He claimed he was traveling with the family’s enforcers to settle trade disputes beyond our territory and even sent word of his whereabouts through a courier.
Very well. Be careful, I replied through the channel. A quiet, bitter laugh escaped me after closing the link.
Not long after, I saw Selara’s announcement posted on the estate’s public board. Her words were meant for all to see: “My first outing in many months. I never thought I’d crave sweets so badly! Someone insisted on buying it for me.”
A photograph accompanied the note—Darian’s hand offering the confection. His wedding ring—our family seal forged in silver and blessed before the Don—still rested on his finger. The location she marked matched the very spot he had claimed to be.