The days that followed were heavy with silence.
Amelia carried herself with grace, attending her charity work, smiling at dinners, fulfilling her role as Mrs. Stone—but inside, she was unraveling. Every glance at Alexander left her torn between hope and heartbreak.
And Alexander… he watched her slipping away, feeling the distance like a knife. He had built his life on control, on never needing anyone. But the thought of Amelia pulling from his grasp left him restless, raw, and furious—with himself most of all.
The breaking point came one evening. Amelia was in the library, her fingers tracing the edges of his sketchbook, when Alexander walked in.
“Don’t,” he said sharply.
She froze. “I wasn’t—”
“Don’t pull away from me, Amelia.” His voice was rough, almost desperate.
Her chest tight
