Yin's POV
I walked to the carriage like a man heading to his execution. What the hell had I just done? I kissed her. I kissed Irene. My fake wife who I'd married for appearances only. The girl who was supposed to be temporary, uncomplicated, safe.
Safe because kissing her felt safe.
Shut up, brain.
The carriage driver opened the door and I climbed in, sitting as far to one side as possible. A minute later, Irene appeared, her dress shimmering in the lamplight, her lips still swollen from my kiss.
Don't look at her lips. Don't think about how she tasted. Don't—
She climbed in and sat across from me, as far away as the space allowed. The driver closed the door, and we lurched into motion, heading home through the dark streets.
Silence. Awkward, suffocating silence that made me want to throw myself out of the moving carriage.
"So," Irene said finally. "That was—"
"A mistake." The words came out harsher than I intended. "I shouldn't have done that."
