"Rosi… I… I never meant to belittle you by having Fealan deliver those papers…"
"Didn't mean to belittle me?" Rosalind let out a bitter laugh, echoing Dorian words. "Or did you mean to remind me of my place?"
"That's not what I meant... " He wanted to speak — to explain, to defend himself — but the pain in her eyes made every word die in his throat. Guilt clawed at his chest, louder than any defense he could offer.
"Then what did you mean?" Her voice cracked, fragile. "You said you wanted to bring me happiness… you gave me hope. And then you dragged me back to the cold truth of what we really are."
Her eyes lifted to meet his—wounded, questioning, already retreating into silence.
"Do I look like a fool to you?"
He said nothing, caught somewhere between guilt and disbelief.
Her question wasn't just for him — it was a warning to herself.
"A fool controlled by wealth and power?"
Rosalind drew a shaky breath, swallowing back tears she didn't understand why she was shedding.
"I'll accept your apology, Your Grace. And I trust… there won't be any more moments like this."
She stepped back, straightening her shoulders and lifting her chin, daring herself not to look back, not to break.
But he didn't stop her with words. Instead, he took a slow step forward and reached for her again.
His hands gripped her arms firmly—then softened when she flinched.
He stared, memorizing every trace of pain and loneliness carved into her beautiful violet eyes.
He hated himself for causing it — yet a part of him still longed to reach her, even if he had no right.
"Rosi… I never meant to hurt you."
His voice was low, warm, tinged with an uncertainty rarely seen in him.
"I… I'm no good with words. Maybe I'm just too clumsy."
His gaze faltered—a rare crack in his usual composure.
"But I can't… I can't let you walk away."
He tightened his grip on her hand, holding on to the one thing that made him want to change.
"I want to learn how to love… how to be someone worthy of you."
"I'm clumsy now, but… please, give me a chance."
Rosalind didn't respond. The silence pressed around them like fog as she turned inward.
All that remained inside her was a chaos of emotions.
Dorian said he wanted to learn how to love… but how could she teach him to love her, if he never felt anything for her in the first place?
What they had was his unwavering care — offered willingly, yet always within his boundaries.
And her? She had only been trying to dress up her title as the duchess with a sense of duty, to make it look noble.
Perhaps it was she who had been asking for too much
She had leaned into his kindness, relied on it, and used it as an excuse to feel entitled — entitled to hurt, to be angry — as though something real existed between them.
Are you satisfied now? she mocked herself. All that pride — and now, Dorian Valemont stands here, baring his heart because you forced him to.
And what choked her the most… was that he didn't walk away.
He was moving toward her — like a man learning to walk barefoot across broken glass, drawn not by courage but desperation.
With that sincerity, with that look in his eyes, he left her nowhere to run.
Rosalind froze. She didn't know how to face this… but then, her voice cut through the silence — soft, yet sharp like glass.
"You want me to teach you?" A flicker of a smile touched her lips — not gentle, but ironic, almost mocking.
"How am I supposed to teach you… how to care for someone you don't even have feelings for?"
Her violet eyes met his — no longer angry, just distant and challenging.
Say it, Dorian.
Just say it, and I'll stop hoping.
If he admitted he didn't love her, she would accept it. She would take his kindness as duty... nothing more.
She would become the Duchess of Valemont, in title and in practice.
No more illusions. No more dreams.
And then finally, his voice came, low and hoarse:
"I… like you."
"But I'm just a fool. A coward… for not being able to say that to your face."
He lowered his gaze. There was pain in his eyes but behind it, a subtle lightness.
Because finally, he had spoken the truth of his heart.
And she just stood there, frozen. Shoulders trembling, as tears spilled from her eyes, slow and silent, trailing down cheeks flushed from the morning chill.
I like you.
He said he liked her.
That's why he had cared in that clumsy, maddening way of his.
Something inside her cracked open — not out of pain or anger, but from an emotion too vast to name
The tears wouldn't stop.
Dorian gave a soft, bitter smile, then gently reached out to wipe the tears from her face.
"I… I like you." He swallowed hard. "But I'm a fool. A coward… who couldn't say it to your face until now."
Then, without another word, he pulled her into his arms.
He let her cry against his chest, let her fists beat weakly at the heart once cold — now trembling with warmth.
Burying his face in her hair, he breathed in the scent of her — the scent he'd yearned for far too long.
Rosalind didn't resist. She clung to him, and through the trembling of her shoulders, her voice broke out, soft, choked, but unmistakably clear.
"You... you should've said it sooner," she whispered.
"Maybe then… I wouldn't have learned how to stop waiting."
Then he gave a quiet, helpless smile — the kind that held more sorrow than comfort.
His arms tightened around her, almost instinctively, as if holding on to the most precious thing he'd ever touched.
In the end, who was right or wrong no longer mattered.
Just two fools.
Too afraid to speak.
Too slow to reach.
And yet… somehow, the distance between them had finally begun to close.
At the tree beside the lake, they sat quietly together, time slipping away unnoticed.
Dorian didn't say a word. He simply stayed close, a silent presence beside her, giving her all the space she needed to steady her emotions.
Sometimes, he would steal quiet glances at her.
Afraid she might be cold, he draped his coat over her shoulders.
Then, without a word, handed her a handkerchief to wipe her tears.
At times, he gently tucked away the strands of hair that fell across her face.
No rush, no pressure…
Just slow, tender care, patient and unwavering, as if he could sit there forever, holding this moment for her.
Rosalind wiped her tears away and took a shaky breath. Her hair was tousled, her eyes still shimmering with moisture.
I must look such a mess right now, she thought, half-ashamed, half-lost.
Then her gaze met his—eyes that looked at her with a rare softness.
"Are you feeling better now?" he asked quietly.
"A little… thank you," she said, surprised by the rawness of her own voice. It had been a long time since she'd let herself fall apart like this.
"Please… don't look at me like that."
Rosalind quickly turned away, raising her hand to cover her tear-streaked face. She didn't want him to see her like this—red, messy, vulnerable.
"Why not?"
His voice was calm, sincere.
She shot him a sharp glance, confused. "Why? Because… I don't want you to see me like this. So… pathetic."
No woman ever wanted to be seen at her lowest, especially not by the one she cared for most.
"I would never dream of mocking you."
He smiled softly, tenderness shining in his eyes.
In that moment, those icy blue eyes weren't cold like northern snow anymore—they were a vast, endless sky embracing her whole world.
And in his eyes, at that moment… there was only her.
"You have always been the most beautiful to me, Rosi."
Rosalind's cheeks suddenly flushed.
How could he say such things so naturally?
"Liar..."
"You claim to have no experience… but that doesn't seem to be the case to me."
Dorian blinked, caught between pride and confusion, as if unsure whether he was just complimented or teased.
Rosalind spoke, then abruptly stood up, catching him off guard.
"We should head back now… As for the matter of expanding your knowledge—let's save that for later."
Dorian could only blink in surprise as he watched her walk away.
Just minutes ago, the tension between them had been so thick it could've set the whole forest ablaze. Then, her tears had snuffed it out like rain on flame.
And now… she was walking off with a pout on her face, leaving him sitting there, grinning like a fool.
Yes, somehow, he'd become her fool.
After a few steps, Rosalind paused—realizing he wasn't following.
But before she could turn back or think twice, his deep voice echoed behind her.
I did it… just for you.
In the soft golden light, he was suddenly beside her, so close her heart faltered—so close it made her heart skip a beat.
Dorian smiled, content, and reached out to intertwine their fingers.
They walked together, hand in hand.
She glanced at him, then lowered her head slightly, hiding the smile tugging at her lips.
His palm… was warm.
A kind of warmth she had never known before.