I looked at Layla suspiciously.
Did she really say that because she acknowledged me?
No, of course not.
More likely, she wanted Kallion's secret to be exposed so that there would be a rift between him and me.
Her suggestion about his orders concerning me was tempting. But I remembered the last time I had fallen into one of Layla's traps in a similar situation. I couldn't trust her words blindly.
I stared at her indifferent eyes for a long while, then finally lifted my teacup with a calm face.
"I'll accept your goodwill in spirit, Lady Layla."
I needed to observe her intentions a bit more.
Layla smiled faintly and backed down easily.
"Thank you for your concern."
Then, with a polite bow, she returned to her seat.
I couldn't help watching her profile for a long moment after that.
***
Later, while I was organizing estate ledgers, there was a knock.
I looked up to see the door already open, with Kallion leaning against it.
Puzzled, I looked at him. He flicked his gaze toward Layla.
Layla rose with a gentle smile.
"It seems the ledger work is nearly finished, so I'll take my leave now."
She left the room, and only then did Kallion speak. Still leaning on the door with his arms crossed, he said:
"Have dinner with me tonight."
My chest tightened. Being alone with him was uncomfortable.
I couldn't help remembering those two weeks in Dallot—the very memories I was trying so hard to push away. That was partly why I had been avoiding him.
But since I wasn't sure yet if I was pregnant, I had to fulfill at least the minimum duty of a wife for the next schedule night. Of course, I had no intention of letting things get as extreme as they had in Dallot, when I was half out of my mind.
I forced myself to speak.
"Fine."
I answered curtly, keeping my eyes on the documents rather than looking at him.
I felt his gaze on me for a long time, as if he wanted to say something. But I deliberately didn't ask.
Finally, with a quiet sigh, he said only:
"Then, I'll see you at dinner."
When the door closed behind him, I froze in place, staring blankly out the window. The thought of dining with him alone already felt suffocating.
***
Dinner was as formal as always.
But ever since those two weeks in Dallot, everything had changed.
Even sitting at the same table now carried tension. The heavy silence, the stifling air—it all recalled those nights.
I could feel Kallion's eyes on me, but I focused stubbornly on my food.
He finally broke the silence.
"How are things with Layla…?"
He hesitated, then asked more directly:
"No problems?"
I glanced at him, then answered flatly while looking back at my food.
"No problems."
Silence again. Then, after some hesitation, he added:
"If you're uncomfortable, you can handle the ledgers alone from now on."
He was offering to dismiss Layla, whom he had originally assigned as my assistant because he didn't trust me.
I stared at him, then answered dryly:
"No need."
No matter how unpleasant, Layla was competent. And his sudden "kindness" didn't feel like him at all—it didn't please me.
At my cold refusal, he sighed faintly.
"If that's what you want, then fine."
Another silence fell. Then he said quietly:
"I'm grateful to you."
I looked at him in surprise. Gratitude?
Still staring at his food, he continued awkwardly.
"For forgiving Layla. It couldn't have been easy."
At that, I frowned without meaning to.
Thankful… because I forgave her?
Typical.
Even knowing what I had suffered, he still cared more about his woman. He must have been secretly glad to have her back—after all, she'd been with him for ten years. The only surprising thing was that he had punished her at all.
Normally, the Kallion I knew would defend her, saying she must have had a reason.
I stayed silent, my appetite gone. He tried to reassure me:
"I warned her not to act rashly again."
His tone sounded as if he was talking about a younger sister he had scolded, not someone who had wronged me. I let out a bitter laugh.
At that sound, his brow furrowed slightly.
I looked him in the eyes and said sharply:
"Good. At least it didn't cause a rift between you two because of me."
His frown deepened.
"What do you mean…?"
"I mean you two look good together."
"Look good together? You misunderstand—"
I cut him off, slicing my food coldly.
"Misunderstanding or not, there's no need to explain. We don't have that kind of relationship, do we?"
My cold words made him clench his fist on the table.
"Right. You're right. We're not that kind of couple."
With a bitter laugh, he glared at me, his expression icy.
Then, abruptly, he ordered:
"Keep your schedule clear the day after tomorrow."
I scowled.
"For what?"
"Father's villa. We're going together."
I frowned deeper.
"Can't you go alone?"
His lips curled in a mocking smile.
"And what impression would that give him?"
Then, throwing my earlier words back at me, he added coolly:
"Don't forget our relationship. We're at least obliged to play the role of husband and wife properly. That's what you said."
His mocking tone silenced me. I pressed my lips shut.
****
The current head of House Valdormer, Darkin, lived in the western villa.
In the carriage, it was the three of us: Kallion, me, and Layla—who came along for business reasons related to the vassals' council.
No one spoke. Even Layla, perhaps sensing Kallion's mood, kept her mouth shut.
I glanced at him across from me. He wore a neat suit, resting his chin on his hand as he looked out the window. His broad shoulders and powerful thighs filled out the fabric tautly.
The memory of sitting astride those thighs in the carriage at Dallot made me bite my lip.
That was when I felt his gaze.
He was staring at my lips, pressed tight.
Was he remembering that night too?
I hoped it was just my imagination, but the dark intensity in his eyes was the same as back then.
Nervously, I gripped my skirt.
His breathing grew rough, and suddenly he yanked at his cravat, loosening it.
"Kallion?" Layla asked, puzzled.
He steadied his breath and answered calmly,
"Just stuffy. I'll redo it once we arrive."
Layla blinked but let it go.
"Yes, I'll help you retie it later."
She glanced briefly at me, but I kept my face turned to the window, hiding my expression.
As she looked away again, I suddenly felt the tip of his shoe brush against mine.
It was nothing, just a small touch—but already tense, I flinched and looked up at him.
And in that instant, the one thing I most wanted to avoid happened—our eyes locked.