Noah returned to the estate two days later. The Brighton estate had carried on as usual in his absence—orderly, efficient, untouched. No message had arrived to explain his delay, no word sent ahead to soften it.
Catherine had not asked. She had simply assumed— He must be busy.
And yet, as the second evening settled and the lamps were lit across the mansion, she found herself glancing—once, then again—toward the door without reason.
"Why does it matter?" The thought came quickly, almost sharply.
She lowered her gaze back to the book in her hands. It did not matter and it shouldn't. She kept saying to herself like a chant as she returned to the chamber.
Catherine sat by the window, the book in her hands long forgotten. The moonlight spilled softly across the floor, pale and distant—much like the quiet she had wrapped around herself these past few days.
The door opened. She did not turn immediately.
"I returned later than expected." His voice was calm, as always.
"I see." Her answer came just as steadily.
When she finally looked at him, her gaze was composed—too composed. Noah paused, as though weighing something carefully.
"Should I tell her? That these two days I have been thinking about how I can make things better between us? I donot want her to live a life with me like a corpse. She doesn't deserve this."
"This chamber," he began, slow and deliberate, "has always been shared by the Duke and Duchess of Brighton."
Catherine's fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the book.
"But our situation is not… conventional." A faint pause. "If my presence here causes you discomfort, I can arrange another room for you."
For a moment, she simply looked at him and something within her shifted.
"Another room…?" The words echoed strangely in her mind. "Does he think I would prefer to be elsewhere?" Or— A quieter thought surfaced, uninvited. ..."Or that someone else should be here instead…" The whispers she had overheard earlier returned like a faint sting. Lady Marilyn would have been the better match…
Catherine closed her book gently. "I will remain here." Her tone was calm but colder than before.
"There is no need to trouble yourself." Noah seemed to sense something amiss. "I only meant to give you a choice—"
"I understand what you meant, Your Grace." She met his gaze, unwavering. "I shall also take on my duties as Duchess." There was no hesitation. No softness. Only decision. A wall, carefully placed. "I have made my choice."
Silence followed. Few moments later, Catherine silently turned towards the bed and lay down covering herself with sheets. Noah stood there silently, his gaze following her. He didn't say a word and quietly moved towards the couch where he had slept on their wedding night.
-----
The next morning, Catherine rose before dawn. Sleep had come late. Rest had not followed. Margaret entered soon after, her usual energy filling the room like sunlight.
"Your Grace! You're already awake —" She paused mid-sentence.
Catherine sat before the mirror, perfectly still.Too still.
"…Did you sleep well?" Margaret asked more carefully.
"Yes." She replied simply.
Margaret began brushing her hair, her hands moving gently through the long silver strands. "You have quite a full schedule today," she continued, trying to lighten the mood. "Meetings with the staff, estate records, and—oh! The kitchen requested approval for the seasonal menu—"
"That will be fine." Her voice remained steady.
Margaret smiled faintly. "You really do understand everything so quickly, Your Grace."
Catherine did not respond. Her eyes remained fixed on her reflection. "Was I always like this?" The question came quietly, almost without warning. She had always been composed. Reserved. Unaffected by unnecessary emotion. So why— Why did something feel… unsettled?
From that day onward, Catherine immersed herself completely in her duties. There was no hesitation. No delay. She learned everything—the structure of the estate, the responsibilities expected of her, the rhythm of the household. She moved through it all with quiet precision, her presence steady and composed.
Every morning and evening, she stood at the grand entrance to receive and see Noah off. Without fail.
"Your Grace."
"Your Highness."
Their greetings were polite. Measured. Nothing more. The servants watched from a careful distance, their eyes flickering between them.Catherine stood with elegance, her posture flawless, her expression serene. Noah would pause—just slightly—as though expecting something. A word. A shift. But it never came. And each time, she turned away the moment duty was fulfilled. Without hesitation. Without looking back.
The whispers began soon after. Soft. Careful. But impossible to ignore. "Did you notice the atmosphere?…"
"Is the marriage already falling apart…?"
"…falling apart? It's barely been even two weeks since the princess arrived."
Catherine slowed her steps once. Just enough to hear. Not enough to be seen.
Clara's voice cut through the whispers sharply. "That is enough." Silence followed immediately. Clara stepped forward, bowing her head slightly. "Your Grace, please do not take such meaningless talk to heart."
Catherine shook her head faintly. "It does not concern me." And perhaps— That was what unsettled her most. Because it should not have mattered.
Days passed, but the distance didn't seem to shorten between the Duke and her Duchess.
At the imperial palace— Noah sat behind his desk, documents scattered before him in careful disarray. The investigation into the Crown Prince's disappearance had grown more complex with each passing day. Reports overlapped, timelines conflicted, and every answer seemed to create two more questions.
He exhaled quietly. "…Troublesome."
His attendant glanced at him. "That is the fourth time you have said that."
Noah did not respond. Because even as he looked at the documents— He was not reading them. His thoughts had drifted again. Unbidden. Unwanted. To her, standing at the entrance.
"…Your Grace?"
He blinked. "Yes?"
"You have not turned that page."
A pause. Noah turned it. "I am fine."
The attendant studied him, unconvinced. Then, after a moment— "There is another matter."
Noah did not look up. "What is it?"
"A package arrived this morning." A brief pause. "It was sent by Lady Marilyn Crawford."
Silence. Noah's hand stilled against the paper. "…I see." His voice remained even. But his gaze no longer moved across the page. The attendant watched him carefully. "You do not seem particularly interested."
Noah did not answer. Because in that moment— His thoughts were no longer on the palace nor the investigation. Nor the name that had just been mentioned. They had already drifted—Back to the quiet figure who stood beside him every morning and evening… And yet felt further away with each passing day.
-----
Back at the estate—
Catherine sat by the window once more, a book open in her hands. Unread. Her reflection stared back at her through the glass. Calm. Unchanging and unfamiliar.
"Just what is wrong with me...?"
She could not answer. And the silence that followed felt heavier than before as flashbacks of the day she met him and the days they spent together on the long journey stirred her up from inside.