Graham Severan had not returned home for several days. After his last quarrel with Rosemary, he refused to grant her a divorce and chose instead to sleep in his office, believing that time apart might cool her temper. Never did he imagine that his wife would run away.

When he finally stepped back into the house, he was met with the news—Rosemary had entrusted their child to the nurse and left him a letter.

He unfolded the paper with steady hands, though his heart pounded in his chest. Graham had come from a poor countryside where literacy was rare. It was only after joining the army and attending literacy classes that he discovered his aptitude for reading, a skill that later allowed him to build his publishing business. And now, that very skill had led him to read words he never wished to see.

Rosemary was determined to leave him. To pursue her own happiness.

Graham Severan clenched his jaw, anger and bitterness coursing through him. He had never expected love from her, but he also never thought she would go this far. In the end, he gritted his teeth and made up his mind—he would go after her. If there was even a shred of possibility to keep their family intact, he would try. But if she was truly determined to abandon him for another man, then he would not beg.

Their marriage had been a mistake from the start. Many of his friends had warned him about Rosemary, that she looked too frail, that there was always a faint resentment between her brows. But Graham, a man from humble beginnings, had wanted a wife of refined manners, someone from the higher classes. When he first met Rosemary, he had been captivated by her demure elegance, her graceful demeanor. He thought that marrying her would bring him closer to the world he had long admired.

But she had never truly accepted him.

From the beginning, their marriage was fraught with conflict, softened only by the birth of their child. He had sensed something amiss when Rosemary started exchanging letters too frequently with that lawyer—her so-called friend.

And now, she had run away.

Fueled by anger, he stormed into the city, straight to the lawyer’s office. He had no intention of making a public scene—being cuckolded was not something to broadcast—but he needed answers.

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The lawyer paled at the sight of him.

"Rosemary and I are just friends," he stammered. "I got married yesterday. She even attended the wedding."

Graham's breath stilled. "What?"

The lawyer nodded hastily. "She came, but only for a short while. She left soon after. She seemed... lost."

Graham felt as though the floor had tilted beneath him. Rosemary’s so-called elopement had been nothing more than a fantasy. A self-imposed delusion.

His fingers tightened around the lawyer’s collar. "You encouraged her. You fed her foolish dreams."

The man, smaller and weaker than Graham, trembled under his grip. "I never promised her anything. We were just... talking."

Graham's knuckles ached to strike, but he forced himself to release the man. Instead, he turned on his heel and growled, "Where is she?"

The lawyer gulped. "She left a message with my assistant. She’s staying at a boarding house on Pence Lane."

Without another word, Graham stormed out.

—

When he kicked open the door of the boarding house, he expected to find a defiant Rosemary. Instead, he found her barely standing, gripping a worn wooden table for support, her skin ghostly pale.

"Rosemary," he called her name, but she only looked at him with an unreadable expression. And then, she smiled—a faint, peaceful smile that he never see for a long time.

Before he could take another step, she collapsed.

Graham lunged forward, catching her before she hit the ground. Her body was alarmingly light, her skin burning hot under his touch.

He didn’t hesitate. He carried her out, his long strides swift as he barked orders to his driver.

"To the hospital. Now."

—

When Rosemary awoke, the first thing she heard was an unfamiliar woman’s voice, sharp with reprimand.

"It’s the modern age! How could you let your wife fall into such a state of malnutrition? You should be ashamed!"

A low, rough voice responded simply, "Yes. Mmm."

Graham.

The nurse huffed, her tone softening. "She needs nourishment. When she wakes up, make sure she eats something nutritious."

"Uh-huh."

Rosemary blinked, adjusting to the dim light of the hospital room. When she turned her head, she met Graham’s gaze. He was sitting on a stool beside her, his eyes dark and unreadable.

For the first time, Rosemary did not feel disgust or resentment at his presence. Instead, a strange sense of gratitude stirred within her.

This was the man she had abandoned, and yet he had come to save her.

Graham stood, setting a tin lunchbox on her lap. "Eat."

The lid lifted to reveal biscuits and sweets—simple, refined foods. Her stomach clenched with hunger, saliva pooling in her mouth.

She hesitated, glancing at him. "Thank you."

Graham’s brow furrowed slightly, as if caught off guard.

Rosemary turned slightly away and began eating. Graham sat silently beside her, arms crossed, his eyes occasionally flicking toward her.

After she finished, he took the tin box, packing up. Then, he looked at her directly and asked, "Go home?"