Adrian knew something was wrong the moment Rosaline didn't answer.
She had never ignored him before—not intentionally. Even when she was upset, even when words failed her, she always acknowledged him. A single message. A question mark. Something.
But now there was nothing.
He stood near the window of his study, phone in hand, watching the city unfold below like a living thing—moving, breathing, indifferent to his unrest. The message he'd sent still glowed unanswered on the screen.
Please answer me.
He exhaled slowly, pressing his thumb against the glass of the phone as if that alone could bridge the distance between them.
She was slipping.
And for the first time, Adrian felt it not as a vague fear but as a sharp, undeniable certainty.
Rosaline walked along the river long after leaving the abandoned café.
She hadn't gone home. The air felt too heavy for familiar walls. Her thoughts were tangled, pulling in opposite directions, each demanding belief.
Fear. Love. Doubt. Memory.
The woman's words echoed relentlessly.
Fear—not of losing you, but of choosing you.
Rosaline had always known Adrian was careful. Reserved. Controlled. But she had believed that when it mattered—when it came to her—he would step forward.
Now she wasn't sure what "mattered" meant in his world.
Her phone vibrated again.
Adrian.
She stopped walking but didn't pick it up.
For the first time since meeting him, she wondered what would happen if she didn't wait.
That evening, Adrian was summoned to the main hall.
It wasn't unusual. Conversations in his family rarely happened by chance. They were scheduled, intentional, and precise—like moves on a chessboard.
His father sat at the head of the table, his expression unreadable. His uncle stood by the window, arms folded. A quiet tension hummed in the room, the kind that never raised its voice yet carried absolute authority.
"You've been distracted," his father said calmly.
Adrian met his gaze. "I've been busy."
"With what?" his uncle asked.
Adrian didn't answer immediately. That pause—brief but noticeable—was all they needed.
"Personal attachments," his father said, not accusing, simply stating. "They complicate timing."
Adrian straightened. "I can manage both."
His father leaned back slightly. "That's what concerns us."
Silence followed, deliberate and heavy.
"No one is asking you to end anything," his uncle added smoothly. "Only to remember where your priorities lie."
Adrian's jaw tightened. "And if they don't align the way you expect?"
His father studied him for a long moment. "Then choices will be made for you."
Not a threat. A fact.
Adrian left the room with his chest tight, the realization settling in painfully clear: time was no longer his ally.
Night fell again.
Rosaline finally returned home, exhaustion clinging to her bones. She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at her phone like it might betray her just by lighting up.
Another unknown message appeared.
You didn't tell him.
She froze.
How do you know that? she typed.
The reply came slower this time.
Because I know how this ends if you do.
Rosaline clenched the phone in her hand.
You said you were giving me a choice.
I am.
Then tell me the rest.
There was a long pause.
When the message finally arrived, it was shorter—but heavier.
I wasn't just part of his past. I was part of the decision that shaped his future.
Rosaline's heart pounded.
What decision?
The one where he learned that love comes second.
Rosaline's breath caught. "Second to what?" she whispered aloud, though the question was already forming painfully inside her.
Before another message could arrive, her phone rang.
Adrian.
This time, she answered.
"Rosaline," his voice came immediately, tight with relief and strain. "Where have you been?"
She hesitated. "Out."
"That's not an answer," he said quietly.
"I didn't know what to say," she replied. "And I didn't want to lie."
The silence that followed felt dangerous.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
She thought of the café. The woman. The photograph. The words choosing you.
"I don't know," she said honestly.
That was enough to fracture something between them.
"I'm coming to see you," Adrian said.
"No," Rosaline said quickly.
He paused. "Why?"
Because if she saw him now, she might forgive him before understanding what she was forgiving.
"Because I need to think," she said instead.
Adrian closed his eyes briefly. "About us?"
"Yes."
The word settled between them, heavy and irreversible.
"All right," he said finally. "But don't shut me out."
She didn't promise.
The next day, Rosaline met the woman again.
This time, it wasn't by accident.
They sat in a quieter café, untouched by fire but no less tense. Sunlight filtered through the windows, illuminating the woman's sharp features and tired eyes.
"You came back," the woman said.
"I want the truth," Rosaline replied. "All of it."
The woman studied her carefully. "Then listen without interrupting."
Rosaline nodded.
"I loved him once," the woman began. "Not the man he is now—but the boy he was before obedience became instinct."
Rosaline's chest tightened.
"When his family decided his path," the woman continued, "they gave him a choice: keep me, or protect everything else."
Rosaline swallowed. "And he chose…?"
"He hesitated," she said softly. "And in that hesitation, they decided for him."
Rosaline's hands trembled. "So you were forced out."
"Yes," the woman said. "And he learned a lesson that day—that resistance costs more than silence."
Rosaline leaned back slowly, understanding dawning painfully clear.
"So why tell me this now?"
"Because he's hesitating again," the woman said. "And this time, the consequences won't fall on him alone."
Rosaline closed her eyes briefly.
"You're trying to scare me," she said.
"I'm trying to save you," the woman replied. "From loving someone who may never step out of line when it matters most."
That evening, Adrian waited.
He waited for Rosaline's call.
For her message.
For any sign that the distance between them wasn't growing wider with every hour.
Instead, another message arrived—from the past he'd tried to bury.
She knows enough now.
Adrian's heart dropped.
Stay away from her, he typed back.
That was your mistake last time, came the reply. You stayed quiet.
Adrian stared at the screen, something hardening inside him.
For the first time, he understood the choice approaching him—not abstract, not theoretical, but immediate and unavoidable.
And for the first time, he wasn't sure silence would save anyone.
Rosaline stood by her window again that night, mirroring the way Chapter 12 had begun—but she was no longer the same woman.
Her phone lay beside her, unanswered messages glowing softly.
Adrian was trying.
But trying was no longer enough.
She touched the glass gently, watching the city lights blur.
Somewhere deep inside, a realization formed—not yet a decision, but close enough to hurt.
Love, she understood now, was not just about feeling.
It was about courage.
And soon, she would have to decide what to do with the man who loved her—but might never choose her loudly enough.
Outside, the city kept moving.
Inside, everything waited.