The ballroom of the Marquis of Virelle’s estate was filled with the hum of polite conversation, the clink of silverware against fine china, and the rustle of silken gowns as the nobility of the surrounding duchies mingled. The glittering chandeliers overhead cast a soft, golden light over the guests, while the expansive windows framed a view of the rolling hills beyond, bathed in the late afternoon glow.

Caesar stood by the refreshment table, one hand resting on a crystal goblet filled with wine, his eyes scanning the crowd with practiced indifference. The event was yet another in a long line of social obligations, an evening of introductions and pleasantries designed to further cement the alliances between the powerful families of the region. As the Duke of Alderson, Caesar’s presence was expected, though his thoughts were nowhere near the delicate negotiations or the small talk happening around him. His mind kept drifting back to the same place it always did: to her.

He had spent the last five years wondering where Marianne had gone, replaying her departure over and over in his mind. He had searched for her in every city, every town, and every estate he could think of, but there had been no sign of her. It was as though she had vanished completely, leaving behind nothing but memories. And still, the longing for her remained, an ache that never seemed to fade.

But tonight, Caesar was determined to keep his mind focused on the present. His responsibilities as Duke could not be ignored, and the political landscape had shifted in ways that demanded his attention. There were negotiations to be had, alliances to be made, and every conversation he participated in was crucial to maintaining Alderson’s position.

As he adjusted his stance, his gaze fell upon a small group gathered near the far corner of the room, where a woman stood beside a child. The sight made him pause, his breath catching in his throat.

She was standing just beyond the throng of guests, her posture straight, her eyes focused on the child before her. The soft golden light from the chandelier illuminated her features, and for a brief moment, Caesar was frozen. It can’t be...

But it was.

Marianne.

She was different, of course—time had passed, and she had changed, as had he. Her hair was no longer tied back in the simple braid he remembered, but instead fell in soft waves over her shoulders. She wore a modest dress of soft green that did little to draw attention, but somehow, it only enhanced the quiet grace that had always been hers. Her gaze was now fixed on the young child at her side, her expression one of calm attentiveness as she spoke to him, guiding him through what appeared to be some sort of lesson.

Caesar’s heart pounded in his chest as he took a step forward, but he hesitated, unsure of how to approach. He hadn’t seen her for almost five years, and even though the thought of seeing her again had consumed him, he hadn’t prepared himself for this moment. The shock of it—the way she seemed so much a part of this world now, standing in front of him like some apparition, an echo of a past life.

Is this what you’ve become? he thought, his eyes tracing her every movement, as though he could somehow reclaim the time he had lost. A tutor?

Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

It wasn’t just the fact that she was standing there—it was everything. The child at her side, the way she spoke to him with such patience and kindness, the way she appeared completely at ease, like she had completely changed.

And then, almost as if she could sense his gaze, Marianne’s head turned ever so slightly. Her eyes met his, and for a heartbeat, time seemed to stand still.

Caesar felt his breath catch; his pulse quickens. Marianne's face was unreadable at first, but as recognition flickered in her eyes, the briefest flash of surprise passed across her features. It was gone just as quickly as it had come, replaced by a calm demeanor that Caesar could hardly bear.

The child beside her, a young boy no older than six or seven, tugged at her sleeve, pulling her attention back to him. She gave him a soft, encouraging smile and whispered something to him that Caesar couldn’t hear.

He was still standing there, transfixed, when she looked back at him once more. This time, she didn’t flinch. She didn’t turn away. Instead, she took a slow step toward him, her expression neutral but somehow distant as she offered a small smile.

"Your Grace," she said softly, her voice calm and composed. It was the same voice that had once called him by his name when they were children, but now there was a formality to it, a barrier that had never been there before.

“Marianne,” Caesar replied, his voice barely a whisper. He had said her name so many times in his mind over the past year, but hearing it now, from his lips, made it all too real. The years between them were palpable, the gap that had grown between them now an insurmountable chasm.

She nodded politely, her gaze flickering briefly to the child at her side, who was now playing with a small toy. He had clearly been left to his own devices, and Marianne’s attention had returned fully to Caesar.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” Caesar said, taking a cautious step forward, not sure if he should invade her space after all this time.

“I was hired to tutor Lord Edmond,” Marianne replied, her tone professional, even if her words seemed clipped. “His parents sought someone for his studies, and the recommendation letter I received from the Head Maid of the Alderson Duchy precedes me. It is an honor to be in the service of the Marquis.”

It was a strange thing, hearing her speak so formally, her demeanor so composed. This was not the Marianne he remembered—this was someone else. Someone who had moved on from the world they had once shared.

“Are you… happy?” he asked before he could stop himself. The question hung in the air, unspoken for so long, yet now it seemed impossible not to ask.

Marianne paused. Her eyes softened ever so slightly, but she didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she glanced down at the child, who was now running around in circles with his toy. She took a slow breath before meeting Caesar’s gaze again.

“I am content,” she said quietly. “I have a life here, and I am at peace.”

The words were simple, but they struck Caesar like a blade to the chest. She wasn’t just content in a passing sense. No. She had a life here. A life that didn’t include him. A life where he was nothing more than a fleeting memory from a past she had left behind.

“I see,” Caesar replied, his throat tightening. What else was there to say? What else could he say?

Marianne’s gaze softened for a moment, and for a brief second, it almost felt like the distance between them was shrinking. But then, as if remembering herself, her mask slipped back into place.

“Please excuse me, Your Grace,” she said with a polite nod, “but I must attend to my duties.”

Before Caesar could say anything else, she turned and walked back to the child, her back straight, her movements graceful. The world around him seemed to blur as he watched her, his heart heavy with the realization that their paths had diverged—forever.

And as she spoke softly to the young Lord Edmond of Virelle, Caesar felt a sinking weight in his chest. The girl he had once known, the one he had sought in silence for so many years, was gone. In her place stood someone else—someone who no longer belonged to him.