The Boss Wants Me Back

Days passed like fading seasons beneath the shifting skyline. After that night, Darian did not return to our quarters for several days, and I did not summon him through our secure channel nor dispatch a runner to seek him. The silence between us no longer felt oppressive—only distant, like a corridor separating offices in the family estate.

On the third day, his message flickered through the encrypted line. He claimed he was traveling with the family’s enforcers to settle trade disputes beyond our territory and even sent word of his whereabouts through a courier.

Very well. Be careful, I replied through the channel. A quiet, bitter laugh escaped me after closing the link.

Not long after, I saw Selara’s announcement posted on the estate’s public board. Her words were meant for all to see: “My first outing in many months. I never thought I’d crave sweets so badly! Someone insisted on buying it for me.”

A photograph accompanied the note—Darian’s hand offering the confection. His wedding ring—our family seal forged in silver and blessed before the Don—still rested on his finger. The location she marked matched the very spot he had claimed to be.

The ring on my hand burned like a coal from the forge of loyalty. Without hesitation, I removed it and placed it inside the wooden chest. From that day onward, I buried myself in my duties at the physician’s quarters and within the family’s ledgers. Work became my refuge, a shield against the rising storm in my chest. The question of when Darian would return became irrelevant, drowned by the rhythm of my responsibilities.

Then, unexpectedly, he arrived one evening after my shift ended. His horse stood outside the physician’s grounds, steam rising in the cool air.

“Why are you here?” I asked softly, exhaustion lacing my voice.

“Have you forgotten?” he replied as he dismounted and offered his arm. “Tonight marks the anniversary of our union.”

“Oh,” I murmured. “Forgive me. My mind has been occupied, and I lost track.”

He stared at me, disbelief flickering across his face. “You once treasured this day above all else. How could it escape your memory?”

It was true. In earlier years, I had prepared elaborate feasts, gathered delicacies, arranged flowers, and lit candles to honor our bond. I sought only to see joy in his eyes. Yet those efforts were later dismissed as unnecessary, even shameful. I still recalled the night I organized a surprise gathering in the banquet hall. He had whispered sharply, “Liora, you draw too much attention. The family is watching. This is… uncomfortable.”

He had guided me away from the elders and guests, and in that moment, something inside me dimmed.

“Come,” he said now, leading me toward his horse. “Let us share a meal to mark the night.”

As we rode, silence stretched between us like a barren field. His gaze drifted toward me, searching for traces of the woman I used to be.

“Are you troubled?” he finally asked.

“No,” I replied.

“No?” His brow tightened. “Then why do you seem distant? I came to honor our bond. Should that not be enough?”

“I harbor no anger,” I said.

He exhaled sharply. “Very well. I swear on the family name, I will sever all ties with Selara. Is that what you want?”

I met his gaze without expression. Did he believe promises spoken in haste could undo months of secrets and half-truths?

“Are you satisfied now?” he asked.

I gave no reply. The remainder of the journey passed in silence until we reached the grand hall prepared for celebration. Darian had arranged candles, floral wreaths, and a private table for our meal. The scene appeared elegant, even romantic, drawing admiring glances from nearby associates.

Before I could reach for the wrapped token he placed before me, a runner arrived with urgent news.

“Fever?” he asked through our secure line. “Does the child require medicine? I cannot leave now—what? The fever is high? Very well. I will come.”

He ended the connection and turned to me, unease shadowing his features. “It’s Selara. Her child is burning with illness. I must go.”

A knot tightened in my throat, yet I forced calm into my voice. “Go. The child comes first.”

He hesitated, studying me as though searching for resistance.

“Wait here. I will return for you,” he said, grabbing his cloak before departing in haste.

I remained alone before the untouched feast. Outside, rain began to fall, drumming against the stone walls like distant timpani. The sound mirrored something inside me—steady, subdued, unwept.

After finishing the meal quietly, I left the hall. A passing carriage offered me a ride back to the estate, though I had no covering against the rain. The droplets chilled my skin as I walked the final stretch under the darkening sky.

When I reached my quarters, I bathed and changed into dry attire. Later, I saw another announcement posted through the estate’s messenger board. It showed Darian inside Selara’s residence, standing beside her and the child. Warm lamplight filled the room, casting a soft glow around them—an intimate brightness that contrasted sharply with the cold rain that had followed me home.

The sight did not break me. It only confirmed what I had already understood: my path lay elsewhere, guided by my own resolve.