In the grand hall, Oliver stood alone among the falling flowers, all eyes fixed on him.
Whispers spread like wildfire, and the expressions around him shifted—from joy to confusion, then to doubt.
The silence weighed heavily on his chest, though he didn't show it. He lifted his head with forced confidence and tried to smile, but felt a coldness in his heart that warned of something breaking.
His reputation—the foundation of his empire—had been shaken.
News of the "cancelled wedding" spread quickly through political circles and high society.
Everyone was asking the same question: What happened in that moment? And why did Ophelia leave him?
Under the gaze of everyone present, Oliver began to feel that titles and power were no longer enough to fill the emptiness in his life—and that betrayal was the deepest wound an emperor could endure.
Adelia watched from afar, her heart pounding uncontrollably. The sight of Ophelia removing her crown and stepping away from the marriage wasn't shocking to her—it felt more like a door opening.
From the moment the former emperor fell and Oliver stood alone in the chaos, crowned as the new ruler, she had felt an admiration that hadn't been a fantasy. She had sensed then that he was made to lead… and perhaps, to be hers.
But when his engagement to Ophelia was announced, she buried those feelings deep. She never tried to get close, never allowed herself to cross a line—even when her heart burned every time their eyes met by chance.
Now? Now there was no wedding. No promises.
No words needed. Just a quiet intention growing inside her:
If this love is real, she won't let it slip away.
The days following Ophelia's broken wedding felt like a silent storm—no noise, but everything was changing.
The Marquis Carter's estate remained elegant, but behind its walls, shifts were unfolding quietly.
Ophelia, who had finally chosen her heart, began to taste true freedom.
She was no longer the girl led toward a predetermined fate, but a woman shaped by scars, experience, and a new belief: that life isn't a past repeated, but a future created.
Each day, she grew closer to Adelia—not as a sister by blood, but as a sister by choice.
They spent their mornings in the library, talking, laughing, sometimes remembering the silence of the past… and weaving it into words.
In one of those quiet moments, Ophelia placed her hand gently over Adelia's and said,
"I know I've been distant, closed off like a fortress… but I'm learning. Learning to trust, to open the door."
Adelia didn't reply. She simply tightened her grip, as if to say: I'm here. I've always been here.
The sun was slowly retreating from the sky, casting long shadows across the imperial palace grounds.
In her private wing, Adelia sat before the mirror, absentmindedly running her fingers through her hair. But she wasn't looking at her reflection—she was seeing beyond the glass.
Distant memories, fleeting glances, moments she hadn't dared to name, even to herself.
She knew Ophelia hadn't left Oliver for her. She had left for herself—for her own heart.
And for the first time, Adelia felt that life had offered her something—not to steal, but to live.
A soft knock at the door.
"Come in."
A young maid entered with a quick bow and placed a sealed envelope on the table.
"His Majesty sent this personally."
Adelia waited for the maid to leave, then opened the letter with a racing heart.
"To Miss Adelia,
If your time allows, I would like to invite you for a walk in the palace gardens this evening.
There are things… that need to be said, and things that perhaps are only now beginning to be understood.
– Oliver."
The garden was quiet, bathed in moonlight.
Adelia walked forward with hesitant but steady steps.
She found him waiting.
When he saw her, he smiled, but didn't move closer.
He respected the space between them.
In a low voice, he said,
"Adelia… thank you for coming."
She looked at him and returned a gentle smile.
"I wouldn't have refused your invitation. Not after everything."
A moment of silence passed before Oliver spoke again.
"I'm not asking for anything tonight. I just wanted to tell you… I've seen you."
She raised her eyebrows, surprised but silent.
"I've always seen you—maybe not clearly… but I've felt you. There's something in you I didn't understand back then. And now… I think I'm just beginning to."
She didn't answer, but her heart beat faster.
Then he added, his voice warmer,
"I won't ask for promises. Just… if one day you find something inside you worth beginning, I'll be here."
Adelia didn't respond with words.
She stepped closer, slowly, until she was beside him. Then she said quietly,
"There's no need to wait. Whatever it is, I'm ready to dive into it—as long as it's with you."
And in that moment, there were no promises, no declarations.
Just a beginning—full of possibility.
The setting sun cast a golden glow over the palace garden, where Ophelia walked beside Damian in a quiet, comforting silence—as if the ground beneath them had finally settled.
She spoke softly, her eyes drifting to the flowers around them.
"I've been thinking… I want to search for my real family."
Damian stopped, looking at her with quiet concern.
"Ophelia… are you sure?"
She shook her head gently, a faint smile on her lips.
"I'm not sure of anything yet… but I'm not as stubborn as I used to be. I was angry because they left me, but… they didn't have a choice."
Damian walked beside her again, then said,
"You've always searched for answers, but you were afraid of what they might be."
He looked at her.
"So what's changed?"
She sighed, then turned to face him, her gaze clear and honest.
"I've changed. I've learned that anger doesn't build anything, and holding on to the past doesn't bring peace. Maybe it's time to understand, not to blame."
She added quietly,
"I want to see them—even if they don't acknowledge me, even if I'm just a heavy memory in their lives… I want to know."
Damian placed a hand on her shoulder, his smile sincere.
"I'll be with you… no matter the road, no matter what you find at the end."
She answered with a grateful look.
"I know. That's why I'm not afraid."
Then they walked on, as if the world around them had grown wider.