He didn't fully grasp what he had just declared—only that he was exhausted.
Tired of duty, of pretense, of playing the part carved out for him since birth. He knew it was cruel, perhaps even unforgivable.
He was the villain in this moment, and he accepted it.
Then, unexpectedly…
Verena kissed Evelyn on the cheek.
"I don't know what you're talking about… Me and Evelyn are friends… right?"
Something had shifted in her. Since the moment she ran off, Verena had returned with a strange light in her eyes, saying things completely out of character. S
He spoke with a casualness that bordered on reckless—so unlike the stern, tradition-bound girl he once knew.
She was... informal. Almost foolish.
And somehow, that unsettled him more than war ever had.
But he refused to let himself waver. Maybe he was overthinking it, reading too much into her change.
