Later that Night – In the Hotel Room
The minutes dragged by as they both busied themselves with unnecessary tasks — Adrian pretended to rearrange his travel papers, while Evelyne carefully placed her hairbrush and a small bottle of perfume on the bedside table.
Every movement felt amplified in the quiet.
Finally, Evelyne disappeared into the small adjoining washroom to change. When she emerged, she was wrapped tightly in a thick hotel robe over her nightgown, her hair loosely tied back.
She glanced quickly at Adrian — he was already lying on the couch, still fully clothed in his shirt and trousers, an arm flung behind his head, pretending to be asleep.
Their eyes met briefly.
Both looked away almost immediately.
"Goodnight, my lord," Evelyne murmured, her voice a little hoarse from the tension.
Adrian shifted on the couch and replied, "Goodnight, Evelyne," his voice softer than she'd expected.
She slipped into the big bed, pulling the covers up to her chin.
The mattress felt cold and far too wide.
For a long while, neither could sleep.
Evelyne turned on her side, facing away, staring at the pale patterns embroidered into the bedding.
She could hear Adrian breathing — steady but not deep enough for sleep.
In the darkness, Adrian stared up at the ceiling, his thoughts a tangled mess.
He could still see the silk of her nightgown in his mind — the glimpse of softness, the vulnerability.
And when he heard her soft breathing from the bed, so close yet so distant, something ached inside him.
What the hell am I doing? he thought grimly.
He shifted slightly on the cramped couch, trying not to make a sound.
The floor creaked faintly.
From the bed, Evelyne's voice floated softly into the night, surprising both of them.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Adrian blinked at the ceiling. "For what?"
"For... letting me have the bed," she said after a pause, though the words seemed to mean something more.
A long beat of silence stretched between them.
Adrian exhaled slowly. "You're welcome," he replied, almost in a murmur.
The city outside had gone quiet, the lamps throwing soft glows into the room through the heavy drapes.
Inside, two hearts beat awkwardly in the same space — cautious, confused, and aching with things left unsaid.
Eventually, exhaustion claimed Evelyne first.
Her breathing evened out, her body relaxing into sleep.
Adrian listened to her for a long time before finally closing his eyes, his last conscious thought lingering on the memory of her small, brave smile before she turned away.
Late That Night – The Hallway Incident
Sleep would not come.
Adrian lay stiffly on the narrow couch, staring at the ceiling with burning eyes.
The room felt too small, too heavy — the air thick with words unspoken and feelings he didn't dare name.
Finally, with a low, frustrated sigh, he sat up, swung his legs over the side, and silently moved to the door.
Maybe a little fresh air would clear his mind.
He glanced back once at Evelyne, relieved to see her sleeping soundly, her face serene in the dim light.
Carefully, he opened the door and slipped out into the hallway.
A little while later, Evelyne stirred.
She blinked, confused, as the strange hotel room came into focus.
She hadn't even realized she'd fallen asleep.
A chill brushed her skin, and when she sat up, she noticed immediately—the couch was empty.
Frowning slightly, she wrapped her robe tighter around herself and padded quietly toward the door.
Maybe Adrian just went for some water, she told herself.
But when she cracked the door open slightly and peeked out—
Her heart stopped.
Across the hallway, near the shadowed corner where two corridors met, she saw them.
Adrian.
And Cassandra.
They were talking, but the distance and the low murmur of their voices made it impossible for Evelyne to catch the words.
She could only see their faces—Cassandra's lit with a sly, knowing smile, Adrian's jaw tight, his posture stiff.
It looked like Adrian was trying to end the conversation and leave.
He half-turned—right as Cassandra suddenly reached out, grabbed his arm, and without warning, pulled him closer.
And then—kissed him.
Frozen in shock, Evelyne gasped softly and stumbled back, quickly shutting the door with trembling fingers.
She pressed her back against it, heart hammering painfully in her chest.
What just happened?
Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them away furiously, stumbling back toward the bed.
She threw herself under the covers, curling tightly into herself, feigning sleep.
Moments later, the door clicked softly open.
Adrian slipped inside, unaware of what had been seen.
He paused, glancing at the bed where Evelyne's back was turned toward him, her body still and breathing slow.
He exhaled, relieved.
Thinking she was still asleep, he quietly returned to the couch, running a hand through his hair, visibly frustrated.
Meanwhile, Evelyne lay with her eyes tightly shut, clutching the sheets to her chest.
Questions, doubts, and hurt swirled inside her like a storm.
She wanted to turn around and demand an explanation — to shout, to cry — but she stayed silent.
Too afraid of what she might hear.
In the darkness, two hearts once again kept their distance, each beating painfully alone.
The Next Morning – Under the Same Sky, Worlds Apart
The sunlight spilled through the heavy hotel curtains, casting golden patterns across the floor.
Evelyne sat at the vanity, methodically brushing her hair.
Her movements were mechanical, her face carefully blank.
Behind her, Adrian stood by the window, dressed neatly in his formal riding attire.
He looked every bit the noble heir he was — collected, serious... and somehow, very far away.
Neither spoke.
The awkwardness hung between them like a thick fog, impossible to ignore.
Adrian cleared his throat quietly.
"I've arranged for the carriage to take us to the polo grounds," he said, his voice low, almost formal.
Evelyne nodded without looking at him.
"Thank you."
That was all.
No casual morning banter, no teasing smiles.
Only cold, brittle politeness.
The sun was high and golden as Adrian and Evelyne arrived at the sprawling polo grounds, the trimmed grass glinting under the morning light. White canvas tents lined the edges of the field, sheltering finely dressed guests who sipped champagne and exchanged pleasantries behind gloved hands and perfumed fans.
As the couple stepped down from the carriage, heads turned.
Eyes followed.
It was impossible not to notice them — the tall, composed figure of the future Duke of Greystone, dark hair neatly styled, posture impeccable, and beside him, his young wife in an elegant periwinkle dress that fluttered slightly with the breeze, her pale blonde hair gathered softly at her nape.
They made a striking pair.
And yet, the murmurs began almost instantly.
"That's them, isn't it?"
"The new Duchess… or rather, the commoner who married into nobility."
"Grandfather's will, they say. Forced him into it."
"Still, look at him — even more handsome than last season. What a shame…"
"She's beautiful, yes, but not like Lady Cassandra. Not as refined."
"Cassandra would've suited him better. Such a scandalous turn of events."
Evelyne felt the weight of every glance, every whisper riding the breeze. She kept her chin high, her expression composed, but her fingers subtly curled into the folds of her skirt.
Adrian walked beside her, his face unreadable as always — but his eyes did flicker once to the crowd, then to Evelyne, briefly scanning her posture, her silence. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to. The slight narrowing of his gaze was enough to silence a few nearby conversations, and those who had dared to whisper turned suddenly interested in their wine glasses.
Adrian was the perfect gentleman, escorting Evelyne with a hand at her back, his touch light but distant.
She played her part too, smiling and greeting with all the grace expected of a Sinclair wife.
But inside, Evelyne felt hollow.
Every time she caught a glimpse of Adrian out of the corner of her eye, a fresh wave of confusion and sadness washed over her.
Did he want to kiss Cassandra?
Was he still thinking about her?
Still, the air around them buzzed.
"Do you think he regrets it?"
"He barely looks at her."
"She must feel terribly out of place here."
A few brave socialites approached to exchange shallow greetings. A nod here, a polite smile there. Evelyne answered with all the grace she could muster, aware that every gesture was being assessed, every smile dissected.
Then from a distance, another name floated through the hum of conversation.
"I wonder if Cassandra will show up."
Evelyne heard it.
So did Adrian.
But of them reacted.
Not outwardly.
Evelyne found herself wishing she could be anywhere else.
Far from the game.
Far from the polite smiles.
Far from this gnawing ache in her chest.
Meanwhile, Adrian stood at her side, silent, stiff.
His mind, too, was elsewhere.
He had thought about last night a hundred times—about how Cassandra had trapped him in that moment, and about how he'd barely managed to push her away after that stolen kiss.
And yet... what worried him most now wasn't Cassandra.
It was Evelyne.
Had she seen?
Was that why her eyes wouldn't meet his today?
Guilt gnawed at him, sharper with every passing second.
They stood together under the same bright sky, looking for all the world like the perfect young couple.
But inside, both were struggling to bridge the widening gulf of misunderstanding growing between them. And neither knew how to take the first step.