Broken Promise, Restored Affinity

When I first arrived in this world, I was cautious, keeping my true identity hidden. But he—sharp and perceptive—discovered almost immediately that I was a soul from another world. Instead of turning me away, he grew intrigued, drawing closer to me with a persistent intensity that I couldn't resist. Soon, it was no secret to anyone: he loved me fiercely, as if his very life depended on it.

For five years, I believed in that love. I married him, trusting in the future we were building together. Then, one day, everything changed. He welcomed a princess—one who had been raised in secret—into our home. Their child was already three years old.

"The bloodline of the Bridgerton Family must be acknowledged," he said.

"The princess is noble and precious, yet she’s willing to share a husband with you. You should be grateful," he added with cold detachment.

In that moment, I realized the harsh truth: no matter how much he claimed to love me, we were from different worlds. I could never truly belong in his.

With a heavy heart, I gave up my place as his wife, accepting that our love was not enough to bridge the vast divide between us. I chose to let go, stepping away from the life I had built and setting off on a journey back to my own world.

But when I disappeared, he lost himself in a desperate search, refusing to let me slip away completely. Even after everything, he could not bear to live without me.

——

I first met Jonathan in the second year after arriving in this world.

At that time, I was the second daughter of the loving couple, raised quietly within the confines of the boudoir. Having crossed over from another realm, I remained cautious, wary of the eyes around me. Though I was not particularly noticeable in the mansion, the fear of being exposed haunted me. Every day felt like a balancing act between maintaining my facade and guarding my true identity.

It was at a spring banquet, held in the splendor of blossoming flowers, that fate led me to Jonathan. Miss Horan, the daughter of my father's fiercest political rival, had always harbored a grudge against our Sheraton family. That day, she took her disdain to new heights, belittling us with biting words and veiled insults. She dared to question my father’s wisdom and character, mocking the legacy of the Sheraton family as though it were beneath her.

Fury welled up inside me, too intense to suppress. Against my better judgment and the risks of exposure, I found myself standing up to her. Words of defiance escaped my lips, defending my family’s honor with more passion than caution. But in a flash of cruelty, Miss Horan, with her sharp smile, shoved me into the stream beside us.

Cold water enveloped me and for a moment, I was resigned to my fate. Perhaps this was how my secret would be exposed—by a moment of impulsive anger and a reckless confrontation.

But then, through the cold and chaos, a strong hand pulled me from the water.

Jonathan.

He stepped between me and the crowd, shielding me with his broad shoulders and the warmth of his presence. His long, noble coat covered me, protecting my dignity from the watchful eyes of curious onlookers. With just a few authoritative words, he dispersed the gathering, silencing the whispers and punishing Miss Horan for her actions. In those moments, I felt as though I was being rescued not just from the water but from the weight of all my fears.

From that day forward, Jonathan began to appear in my life more often. His noble status and commanding presence drew attention wherever he went. Countless young ladies from aristocratic families secretly admired him, but he seemed to have eyes only for me. With a teasing smile, he would call me “Sister Lana,” his voice always light with affection, his gaze always warm.

Despite my efforts to keep my distance and avoid entanglements in this unfamiliar world, I found myself slipping deeper and deeper into feelings I couldn’t control. How could I not? Jonathan, with his unyielding devotion, made it nearly impossible to resist.

When I finally graduated, he confronted me directly, no longer hiding his intentions.

“I knew from the first moment I saw you,” he said, his voice steady and sure, “that you were different. It was as if you didn’t belong here, like a spirit from another world.”

His words struck a chord deep within me and I felt exposed in a way I hadn’t before. Yet, his next confession caught me entirely off guard.

“I’ve loved you since that very first moment,” he admitted, his eyes soft yet unwavering.

It was both a declaration and a promise. And I, unsure of how to respond, tested him lightly. Jokingly, I told him, “If I really were from another world, I could never accept the customs of this one—especially not the idea of three wives and four concubines.”

Without hesitation, he met my gaze and swore to me, “You will be my only wife. I would never take another. If I ever break this vow, may I lose all love forever.”

His vow was solemn, spoken beneath the soft glow of the moon. I could feel the sincerity in his voice and I was deeply moved by his words. How could I, faced with such devotion, refuse him?

Even when my cousin Roma, who like me was a soul displaced from another world, came to me with news of a way to return home, I hesitated. She urged me to leave, warning that my future here held nothing but regret. But at that moment, with Jonathan’s love so fresh and his promises so sincere, I couldn’t bring myself to believe her.

I chose to stay.

And yet, looking back now, I realized Roma had seen the truth long before I did. The warning she gave me echoed in my mind in the years that followed, as Jonathan’s promises crumbled before my eyes.

I never imagined how right she would be.