Xander had wanted to go after her.
The moment Erin walked out of the room, her eyes too bright, her voice clipped and cold, a part of him screamed to stop her. To explain. To tell her what that pendant meant and why it shattered more than just glass when it hit the floor.
But he didn't.
He stood there instead, surrounded by the echo of things unsaid.
He didn't move for a long time. Then, when the silence began to press too heavily against the walls, he stepped onto the balcony. The wind stirred his shirt as he leaned against the rail, eyes scanning the grounds below.
And then he saw her.
Her figure moved slowly through the garden, her posture neither rushed nor relaxed. She wasn't just pacing—she was thinking. Burning. Wrestling with something inside her the way he was.
She paused near the rose archway, and her head tilted up.
Their eyes met.
She froze.
And something in him snapped.
He didn't even realize he was gripping the railing until his knuckles turned white. He turned away sharply and left the balcony, dragging a hand through his hair.
He told himself he wouldn't go after her.
He told himself it was better this way.
But none of those things helped during dinner, when the seat across from him remained empty. He barely touched his food, something that didn't go unnoticed by the chef—who, had been the one to prepare his meal this time.
"She hasn't returned, has she?" Xander asked quietly.
The chef hesitated, wiping his hands on a cloth. "No, sir."
Xander's lips pressed into a line.
He was worried. He hated admitting it, even to himself, but it was the truth. Her absence gnawed at him like hunger he couldn't feed.
When he stepped out into the hallway again, he found the butler passing through.
"Alfred," he called.
The man stopped immediately. "Yes, Master Xander?"
Xander studied him for a moment, and then, without thinking, asked, "What's the best way to apologize to a woman?"
The butler's eyes widened in something dangerously close to alarm.
It would've been funny—if Xander weren't serious.
"Well?" he asked sharply.
The butler cleared his throat. "A token, sir. Something personal. Something thoughtful. Words matter too, of course, but… a gift goes a long way when words fall short."
Xander didn't hesitate. "Then get me something."
Alfred blinked. "Something…?"
"Something suitable," he said. "Make sure it's beautiful."
The butler's expression tightened in hesitation, but he bowed. "As you wish."
And with that, he was gone.
Xander returned to his room but couldn't sit still. He paced. Went to the window. Checked his phone even though he didn't expect a message.
The sky turned a deeper shade of ink, stars faintly freckling the darkness.
Still, no sign of her.
It wasn't until he moved to the study—desperate for something to do other than think—that he heard the sound of the front doors opening and closing. His heart jumped before he could stop it, and he stepped into the hallway, tracking the quiet footsteps.
She was back.
He returned to the room a few minutes after she did.
When he entered, she was standing near the bed, staring at the box.
He cleared his throat. "Where did you go?"
Her eyes met his, but they held none of the softness he'd seen before.
"Why do you care?" she said.
"Because it's late and you didn't say anything."
She added, her voice cool, "Well, the same way you don't owe me an explanation… I don't owe you one either."
He wanted to say something back—but what?
That he did care?
That he watched her from the balcony like a ghost looking down at the only thing that made him feel real?
Instead, he just stepped forward and lifted the box.
"What… is that?"
"An apology."
"You didn't have to—"
"I know, but I wanted to."
The way her eyes widened slightly—it made something flutter in his chest.
It wasn't much. Just a necklace. Silver, elegant, with a moonstone nestled in the center. It reminded him of her. Quietly radiant. Too easy to miss unless you looked twice.
She didn't say anything.
So he asked, surprising himself, "May I?"
She didn't speak. But she nodded.
His fingers brushed her neck as he clasped it behind her. She lifted her hair, her skin warm beneath his touch.
When he stepped back, she looked at herself in the mirror. The necklace glinted against her skin.
He stared too.
He didn't know why he offered to do it himself. Maybe he was trying to fix something. Maybe he just needed to touch her, to prove she was still here. Still his maid. Still his… something.
But as he looked at her reflection, a strange tightness gripped his chest.
This girl was dangerous.
Not because she could hurt him with her words.
But because she was starting to feel… necessary.
And that scared him more than anything.
He turned away quickly.
He didn't know what was happening between them—but he knew he had to be careful.
Because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get her out of his mind.
And if he wasn't careful, she might end up being the one thing that broke him completely.