[Alvar’s POV — ThorenVald Estate—Moments Earlier]

I hadn’t meant to walk toward the Hall. I told myself I’d stay in my room. I told myself distance was the answer, that space would protect both of us. That pushing him away would save him pain later.

But the moment I heard his footsteps...the moment I sensed his presence... My feet betrayed me. I turned the corner—and there he stood.

Leif.

Beside Alina. Following quietly. His eyes lowered. Shoulders small. A shell of the bright boy who used to run toward me, not away. My heart lurched so painfully I almost reached for him right then.

But he only bowed, stiffly, politely— like I was a stranger. Like I was a man he owed respect but nothing more.

And I deserved that.

So I let him walk past.

Even though my lungs burned as if I’d swallowed ice.

—

Inside the hall, everyone was laughing. Alina is glowing. Our mothers are excited.

"Leif, dear, open it—"

He refused politely. And when Alina opened the box...when the light hit the white and gold fabric of the wedding suit... I should have looked away. I should have kept my distance.

Instead, my eyes found him. His face... His trembling hands... And then—

PLOP.

A single tear fell onto the fabric.

My heart stopped.

Another tear rolled down his cheek.

My heart cracked. He was crying. Silently. Unexpectedly. Not the loud cries of a child... but the quiet breaking of an adult who had carried too much alone.

Everyone around him rejoiced, misunderstanding, assuming happiness—But I saw it.

I felt it.

His tears weren’t joy. They were grief. Fear. A deep, silent despair that twisted itself around my ribs until I couldn’t breathe.

What have I done?

What did I push him into?

His fingers brushed the sleeve of the coat like he was touching something that wasn’t meant for him. Something he was already preparing to lose. And when he looked up—Our eyes met.

Just for a second.

But in that second, I saw everything: his hurt, his resignation, his decision to pull away, his attempt to be strong, and his breaking.

Something inside me shattered so violently I almost staggered. He wiped his tears quickly. Forced a smile. And walked away from me.

Walked away.

The moment the door shut behind him, the world inside my chest collapsed.

Mother’s words echoed, "If your time with him is short... cherish it." "Don’t wound him purposely."

But I had.

I had wounded him deeper than anyone ever had. And when he left the hall, trembling... alone... It hit me like a sword through my ribs— I don’t want him to let me go.

I don’t want him to forget me.

I don’t want distance.

I don’t want separation.

I want him.

I always wanted him.

And I was losing him with my own hands.

My feet moved before my head did. Down the hallway. Toward him. Toward the man I had pushed away. He turned—And when he saw me, his eyes widened just a bit. Not fear. Not anger. Just... surprise. And a loneliness so quiet it drowned me completely.

I didn’t think.

I didn’t speak.

I just—Lifted him. Pulled him against me. Held him the way I should have from the start—tight, protective, desperate.

His breath caught.

My heart broke.

My voice cracked— "I was wrong. I was foolish."

And for the first time since this nightmare began—I finally admitted it.

All of it.

I was wrong to push him away. Wrong to hurt him. Wrong to let fear speak for love. Wrong to let him cry alone.

Holding him now... feeling his heartbeat against mine... I realized the truth so painfully it felt like a blade.

If losing him is fate...then I’d rather spend every remaining moment holding him—not running from him.

And I vow—I will not let him cry alone again.

His body trembled in my arms, but...he didn’t cling to me. Not like before. Not like the days when he would wrap his arms around my neck without hesitation. Now, his hands hovered—uncertain—like he didn’t know where he was allowed to touch me anymore.

His voice was small and Fragile. "...What... are you doing?"

That tone—it shattered me more than any scream could have.

I held him tighter.

"I was wrong, Leif," I whispered, breath trembling against his ear. "I know I don’t deserve forgiveness. I know I hurt you more than anyone ever should. But—I was foolish. So foolish, I thought..."

The words stuck in my throat.

He stayed silent.

Not resisting. But not accepting either. So painfully still in my arms. I pulled back just enough to see his face—his eyes wide, red at the edges, tears trapped stubbornly behind them.

"Leif," I whispered, voice cracking. "Can you give me another chance?"

His eyes widened. His breath hitched—like the words hit somewhere deep. Somewhere raw.

But he didn’t answer. He just trembled and whispered, "Just... put me down. We’re in the hallway..."

I didn’t care. But he did. So I shifted him carefully in my arms—and walked.

"Wh—what? Alvar, wait—where are you—?"

"I’m not putting you down here," I said, my voice low, firm, and breaking. "Not when you look at me like that. Not when you’re trembling because of me."

I walked faster.

"Alvar—!"

"Not until you throw every angry dagger at me," I murmured. "Not until you yell. Not until you stop looking at me like I’m a stranger."

His breath hitched painfully. I tightened my hold, lowering my voice as we reached his chamber door.

"I will set you down," I whispered, "but not until we’re somewhere you can finally hit me like before."

His fingers curled slightly—barely—against my shirt. A tiny, broken gesture. As if he didn’t know whether to push me away—or hold on.

And it terrified me more than any devil in this world.

I carried him into the chamber, pushed the door shut with my foot, and crossed to the couch—refusing to let go even for a second.

I sat down. He ended up sitting on my lap—softly, naturally, the same way he used to sit when he felt safe with me.

But now...his body was stiff. Cold. Guarded. I lifted a hand and brushed my thumb along his cheek, gently—like he might shatter if I pressed too hard.

"Leif..." I whispered. "Can you please forgive me? I know it’s tough, but just one last time, can you please forgive me?"

He didn’t look at me. His voice shook—but the anger in it was sharp enough to cut skin.

"I don’t want to."

My heart dropped.

"...Not even a little?" I asked quietly, leaning closer, trying to meet his eyes.

"No."

The word was quiet. But it hit like a blade.

Still—I smiled faintly. Sad. Soft. Loving in the way that begged for one more chance. I reached to touch his cheek again—But this time—He yanked my hand away .

Hard.

His eyes snapped up to meet mine, full of tears and fury. "Don’t touch me."

The words shook. Not because he didn’t mean them—But because they hurt him too.

My breath caught. I opened my mouth—But he cut me off first.

"You said you wanted to stop this marriage." Each word trembled. "You said you wanted to stop loving me."

His voice cracked.

"So—" He leaned closer, glaring at me through tears that refused to fall, anger trembling in every muscle.

" DO. NOT. TOUCH. ME. "

Those four words stabbed deep—but the truth beneath them?

He didn’t get off my lap. He didn’t push me away. He clung to my shirt with trembling fingers—the kind of hold that meant he was angry... and hurt... but still terrified of losing me.

My heart twisted.

"...Leif, My love," I whispered, "what must I do to convince you?"

He glared at me through tears that refused to fall.

"I am NOT your love," he snapped. "You wanted to stop the wedding. You let go of my hand first."

"I know," I whispered, "because I was stupid. I was dumb enough to think pushing you away now will hurt you less. I didn’t realize I was leaving a deep scar on your heart."

His eyes softened for half a second—then hardened again.

I held him tighter, desperate.

"Leif... just one last chance. I swear I will not repeat my mistake again. I swear...whatever punishment you give me... I’ll accept it."

He froze.

And slowly—slowly—lifted his head.

His expression was cold. Eyes red. Eyelashes wet. Face soft with heartbreak. But then—he sniffed sharply. And said, "...Fine. I will forgive you."

I smiled faintly saying, "Thank—"

Then he cut me off and glaring at me with anger, he leaned closer—eye to eye, he said, "But...Your punishment," he whispered.

"is this—" His finger jabbed my chest. "You have to step on a LEGO."

I blinked.

"...A... what?"

"A LEGO," he repeated, with the cold authority of a betrayed god. "Barefoot."

"Leif—"

" BARE. FOOT. "

My soul left my body. "That will kill me—"

" GOOD. " He snapped it out like a whip. "You deserve it."

I stared at him in utter horror. "C-Can you... perhaps show a little mercy—?"

" NO. "

He didn’t even hesitate. Not a blink. Not a flicker. Nothing. Pure, cold-blooded vengeance in cute packaging.

I swallowed. Hard. "I... guess... I have no choice then?"

" CORRECT. "

And that—that was the moment I knew... You should never anger your partner.