Chapter 36: The Distance She Demanded

Seraphina had expected relief when she stepped into the Duchess's chambers that evening.

She had demanded it.

Yet, as she stood in the middle of the grand room, staring at the neatly made bed, she felt nothing but a strange, aching hollowness.

This was what she wanted. Distance. Control. A room of her own.

Then why did it feel like she had carved something out of herself?

She exhaled slowly, pressing her fingers against her temples. This was simply an adjustment. She would get used to it.

The duchess's chambers were lavish, designed to provide comfort and elegance—a sanctuary. The tapestries were soft, the fireplace crackled warmly, and the scent of fresh roses lingered in the air. But it lacked something.

It lacked him.

Her jaw clenched as she shoved the thought away. No. This is what I wanted.

She would not allow herself to be consumed by Adrian Valemont.

Not when she still did not know where she stood with him. Not when her own heart was a battlefield between longing and self-preservation.

Adrian had done nothing to stop her from leaving their shared chamber.

The realization cut deeper than she wanted to admit.

Had he been waiting for this?

Had he wanted the distance, too?

She shook her head and stepped toward the vanity, running a brush through her hair with more force than necessary. Her reflection betrayed her—cheeks tinged with something between frustration and sadness, lips slightly parted as if caught in a breath she could not release.

You wanted love, a small voice in her mind whispered. You dreamed of it, yearned for it. But now you run from it.

Her fingers tightened around the brush. This isn't love. This is a forced marriage, entangled in secrets and revenge.

Love was supposed to be soft, chosen, filled with tenderness and certainty.

Nothing about this union had been her choice.

Adrian had bound her to him, and though he had shown her patience—too much patience—she could not bring herself to yield.

Not when she feared what it would mean.

Not when she did not know if he truly wanted her… or simply wanted to win her.

A knock at the door pulled her from her spiraling thoughts.

She turned sharply, pulse hammering. "Yes?"

The door opened slowly, and Evelyne stepped in, carrying a tray of tea. The maid's gaze swept over her, lingering for just a moment.

"I thought you might need something warm to help you rest, Your Grace."

Seraphina nodded stiffly, folding her arms. "Leave it on the table."

Evelyne did as instructed but hesitated before leaving. "Would you like me to stay?"

Seraphina's throat tightened. "No. I'll be fine."

The maid's expression was unreadable, but she curtsied and left without another word.

Silence settled once more.

Seraphina moved toward the bed, slipping beneath the covers. She pulled them up to her chin, willing herself to relax.

But the sheets were too smooth. Too untouched.

Too empty.

She turned onto her side, staring at the flickering shadows on the wall. She should be relieved to have space, to finally reclaim a part of herself.

Instead, all she could think about was the warmth of the bed she had left behind.

The steady rise and fall of Adrian's breathing.

The way his presence had become something of an anchor, whether she had wanted it or not.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

This was what she had chosen.

She would not regret it.

---

She did not know how long she lay there, but she knew she had not slept.

And then, she heard it.

A faint creak outside her door.

Her breath stilled.

Another pause. A hesitation.

Then—a knock.

Her fingers curled into the sheets.

She did not need to ask who it was.

Slowly, carefully, she sat up. Her heartbeat drummed in her ears.

She should not answer it.

She should let him go.

She should—

Her feet were on the floor before she had made the conscious choice to move.

With measured steps, she crossed the room, stopping just short of the door. Her fingers hovered over the latch.

He was waiting.

She could feel it.

Another heartbeat passed.

Then another.

Her breath came shallow and quick as she finally unlocked the door and pulled it open.

Adrian stood there, dressed in only his robe, the flickering candlelight casting sharp shadows over his face.

He did not speak.

He did not have to.

Something in his gaze—something dark, restrained, unreadable—unraveled the last of her resolve.

She should have stepped back.

She should have shut the door.

But when he lifted his hand, brushing a single finger along the edge of her jaw, she did not move.

She did not stop him.

His voice, when it came, was low. Rough. Unforgiving.

"You're running from something that's already yours, Seraphina."

Her breath hitched.

She wanted to deny it. To tell him he was wrong.

But the truth had never felt so heavy.

Her fingers curled into the doorframe.

He was waiting for something.

A choice. A refusal. A surrender.

The air between them tightened, thick with something unspoken.

Seraphina swallowed hard.

She had demanded distance.

Then why, standing here with Adrian so close, did it feel like she was the one who had been left behind?