Scene: Sher's Bedroom – Morning Light
Golden sunlight spilled through tall windows, warming the polished floors.
Sher sat at a small table near the window, a modest plate of eggs before her.
Across from her, Karthius kicked his legs under the chair, cheeks puffed with food, eyes bright with delight.
"This is so yummy! You're the best cook ever, Momma!" he said with a full mouth.
He raised a spoon toward her, offering it like she was the child.
"Say aaah~!"
Sher blinked. Her heart pulled in a strange, quiet ache.
How can someone so small take up this much space in my chest?
But then—
Knock knock.
The door creaked open.
Cassian entered, sharp and composed as ever. His eyes swept the room. First to the food. Then to her. Then—
Karthius's syrup-smudged face.
Cassian paused.
"…You cooked."
Not anger.
Not accusation.
Just… disbelief.
Like he was staring at a painting that had been redrawn overnight.
"Papa!" Karthius beamed. "Momma made breakfast! And she ate with me too!"
Cassian stepped closer. His gaze lingered on Sher.
"…Well?" he asked carefully.
She met his eyes, steady.
"You want to eat?"
His stride halted mid-step.
That question—so casual—felt like a stone dropped into still water.
"You're offering me food now?"
He glanced at the table. Eggs, bread, fresh fruit. Humble. Not noble. But real.
"You don't remember my name. Barely remember our past. And now… you're playing house?"
Silence fell.
"Papa, sit!" Karthius patted the seat beside him. "I'll give you the big slice of bread! Momma made it soft!"
Cassian stared at the chair, then at her.
"Why are you doing this?"
"Humans eat to live," Sher said dryly. "It's biology. Shocking, I know."
"See? Momma's smart now too!" Karthius snorted.
Cassian let out a breath. Not quite a laugh. Not quite a sigh.
"…You sound nothing like her."
And yet—he sat.
"We're eating together! Like a real family!" Karthius lit up.
Cassian's tone cooled. "This doesn't change anything. But… I'll eat."
He took a bite.
No praise.
But he didn't stop either.
Sher glanced between them, caught in a strange rhythm she didn't recognize—but didn't hate.
"Karth, don't dress like your Papa. You're too cute for all that black and grey."
"But Papa says I look like a young lord!"
"And I wanna wear yellow! Papa only wears… boring."
Cassian raised an eyebrow. "Discipline isn't found in color. And dignity doesn't come in frills."
"But Momma says I can be cute and brave."
He leaned into her proudly.
"Right, Momma?"
She smiled. "Yes. Deadly and adorable. Just like Momma."
"Deadly cute!! Like a kitten with a sword!"
He waved his fork like a blade.
Cassian nearly smiled.
Almost.
"Can I wear yellow pants today?"
"Of course, my little kitten."
"Yaaay!"
He dashed off, already planning his outfit.
Cassian pinched the bridge of his nose.
"What are you turning him into?"
"Someone who'll survive, smile, and fight—without turning into you."
Cassian stared.
His voice dropped.
"…Where was this version of you five years ago?"
"Do you always insult your wife before tea? I still don't understand how you two had a child."
He froze.
Silence.
Heavy. Tense.
"You weren't always cruel," he said softly. "When I met you, you were proud. Fierce. Not… cruel."
A breath.
"Then came marriage. Nobility. And you changed."
He stood.
"So when you ask how we had a child… we didn't. You gave birth. But we never had him."
He turned toward the door.
Paused.
"…Until now."
---
Scene: Outside Sher's Room
Before Sher could respond, a knock came.
A servant stepped in, eyes wide.
"My Lord, My Lady… forgive me. A carriage has arrived at the gates."
She turned to Sher, hesitating.
"It's Marchioness Elentra. She requests a private audience with the Duchess."
Cassian's jaw tightened.
"…That viper never comes without fangs."
Sher tilted her head. "Should I be worried?"
"You were friends. Once."
He stepped closer.
"Widowed young. Controls half the western trade. Dresses like royalty, gossips like a maid, plans like a general."
A pause.
"If you're not the Sher I married… then yes. You should worry about her."
---
Scene: The Front Steps
The carriage rolled to a halt.
From it stepped a tall figure—lace hat, glossy boots, every inch cloaked in wealth and calculation.
Sher sighed.
"Can't you just tell her I'm dead or something?"
Cassian blinked. "…Tempting."
"But you're alive. Corrupting our son with yellow pants and soft smiles."
He crossed his arms.
"If I turn her away, she'll assume worse. And when Elentra assumes, people lose land, money, and marriages."
He looked out the window.
"She brought gifts. That means she's hunting."
Then back to Sher.
"Can you pretend to be the Sher she remembers? Just for a few minutes?"
As he walked away, he added—
"If she probes too much, compliment her earrings. She feeds on flattery like a cat on cream."
---
Scene: Grand Salon
The room sparkled with luxury.
Marchioness Elentra stood like a sculpture—refined, ruthless, unreadable.
"Ah… the Duchess lives."
She swept toward Sher and took her hand.
"You've never been good with fragile things. I worried."
Her eyes narrowed.
"Tell me, darling… do you still remember who your friends are?"
Sher smiled. "I don't. But I'd love to meet such a pretty lady again."
A blink. A beat.
Then—
"My, my. Amnesia made you charming."
She sat, eyes glittering.
"You used to call me a peacock with too much perfume."
"Now you flatter before gossip. Curious."
She sipped her tea.
"What exactly do you remember?"
"That I'm surrounded by powerful, lovely people. But not the memories we made."
Elentra narrowed her eyes. "Hmm. Diplomatic."
She leaned forward.
"Do you recall swearing you'd rather die than eat breakfast with your husband and child?"
Outside, unseen—Cassian stood. Listening.
Sher tilted her head.
"Would you deny me if I said I'm the same woman?"
Elentra smiled. But it didn't reach her eyes.
"Sharp tongue. Soft delivery."
"I wonder what your husband thinks of this miraculous transformation. Or are we not going to gossip about the Duke these days?"
"Hm. Well, this version of me doesn't seem like she hates her family... Sorry to say, but people should use their wor
ds wisely around me now."
She rose, pacing the room.
"You're softer now. But not stupid. That's dangerous."
She leaned close.
"Be careful, Sher. They don't trust what they can't predict."
"When they feel threatened… they remove the threat."
Sher's brows lifted.
"…They?"
---