Chapter 12: A Dance Under the Moonlight

After the awkward garden incident, Verbena fully expected Theodore to retreat into his cold villain mode, ignoring her until they were back home. That was how these arranged villain marriages worked, right?

Silent carriage ride, brooding husband, miserable wife. Classic.

But to her surprise, Theodore extended his hand toward her as they reached the marble terrace at the garden's edge.

"Dance with me," he said.

Verbena stared at his hand like it was a tax notice. "What?"

"You wanted romance, didn't you?" His expression was unreadable, but his tone was almost… teasing? "Or were you lying?"

Crap. I was lying. I wanted divorce papers, not moonlit waltzes.

But if she refused, he'd get suspicious. So she smiled sweetly (painfully fake, but passable) and placed her hand in his.

Theodore led her to the center of the terrace, where soft music played from a distant trio of musicians. The garden was lit by floating crystal lanterns, casting a gentle glow over the cobblestones. It was… disgustingly romantic. The type of scene that made Verbena gag when reading the novel.

And now I'm in it. Fantastic.

His hand slid to her waist, firm but careful, like he was holding something delicate. Verbena placed her free hand on his shoulder, silently thanking her past self for doom-scrolling ballroom dance tutorials that one time she thought it might impress her bakery crush (spoiler: it didn't).

They began to move, and to her utter shock—Theodore was good at this.

His steps were smooth, his grip steady, and the slight brush of his fingers against her back sent a tiny, stupid shiver up her spine.

No. No, brain. We do not catch feelings for villains. This is how girls die in horror movies.

But Theodore's face was so close, and for the first time since her reincarnation, she noticed the finer details.

The scar over his brow that was hidden under his hair. The faint shadows under his eyes, like he hadn't slept well in years. The slight tug at the corner of his mouth whenever he looked at her—somewhere between amusement and disbelief.

"What are you staring at?" he asked softly, voice lower than usual.

"Your face," she blurted out before thinking.

He raised an eyebrow. "That's direct."

"Well, it's a villain face. Got to memorize it for… safety reasons." She tried to laugh, but it came out weird.

Theodore leaned closer. "Am I that terrifying to you?"

Verbena could smell his cologne—something dark, like cedar and rain. It was unfairly attractive for a man who was supposed to be a heartless monster.

"No," she said too quickly. "I mean, yes! A little. But not in a bad way. More like… spicy terrifying."

"Spicy terrifying?"

"Like a pepper," she babbled. "You're dangerous, but also… kind of interesting?"

Theodore chuckled—actually chuckled—and it was the first time she heard him laugh. It wasn't loud or dramatic, just a quiet, warm sound that messed with her brain chemistry immediately.

They continued to dance, and for a moment, Verbena forgot about the divorce, the plot, the crown prince, and her impending doom as the villainess wife.

It was just her and Theodore, under the stars, moving in perfect sync.

Damn it. This is how romance novels trick you. You get one good dance, and suddenly you think love is real.

But when Theodore's hand brushed her cheek, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, her heart skipped a beat for real. Not because of fear.

Because of him.

"Verbena," he said quietly, "are you happy?"

It was such a simple question, but it hit her like a slap. In her old life, happiness was surviving another day without a bakery fire. Here, it was confusing. Complicated.

But right now, in this fleeting moment—she almost was.

"I'm getting there," she said softly.

They danced until the music faded, until the lanterns dimmed, until Verbena forgot whether this was all part of her Operation Divorce, or if she was getting sucked into the romance novel trap she swore she'd never fall for.

End of Chapter 12