ONE NIGHT STAND WITH HOT DUKE-Chapter 113: He chose me?

The journey home felt different for Valerie.

She no longer sat in silence staring out the window, no longer wrapped her arms around herself as if bracing for something painful. Her expression was calmer, her steps lighter. The two days in that hidden place had not erased her problems but they had given her enough distance to breathe.

Demian noticed it the moment they passed through the castle gates.

Valerie walked beside him with her head held high. Not clinging, yet not keeping an excessive distance either. Her presence felt whole and that eased something in Demian’s chest.

But the calm did not last long.

They had barely dismounted when hurried footsteps echoed from the front hall.

"Demian."

The voice was cold, controlled, and heavy with expectation.

Ivanka stood there, dressed in an immaculate gown, wearing a smile that never reached her eyes. Her gaze went straight to Demian then shifted to Valerie, lingering a second longer than necessary.

"So you’ve finally returned," Ivanka said. "Without word. Without explanation."

Valerie felt the air around her change. As if the castle, which had briefly felt ordinary, had once again become a narrow space pressing against her chest. This time, however, she did not lower her gaze.

Demian stepped half a pace forward. "I was away," he said simply.

"Away?" Ivanka smiled thinly. "Or disappearing?"

She looked at Valerie again, no longer bothering to hide her intent. "Lady Valerie looks... remarkably refreshed."

Valerie did not respond. She stood calmly, one hand instinctively resting against her abdomen a small gesture that did not escape Ivanka’s notice.

Ivanka inhaled, then spoke more quietly, though her words were clearly meant for all three of them.

"Demian, I came to remind you of something."

Demian turned to her, his expression flat. "Of what?"

Ivanka straightened. "That you still have a fiancée."

Silence fell.

The servants in the hall pretended to busy themselves, though none of them truly left. Valerie could hear her own heartbeat but she did not feel herself crumbling as she once would have. Something within her had already changed.

"I haven’t forgotten," Demian said at last.

Ivanka’s smile sharpened then faltered when Demian continued,

"But I also haven’t forgotten what I’ve been ignoring all this time."

Ivanka frowned. "Demian, this is not the right time to—"

"Now is exactly the time," he cut in. His voice was not loud, but it was firm. "I won’t pretend anymore."

Valerie looked at him, slightly startled. She did not interrupt. Nor did she retreat.

Ivanka turned to Valerie. "Are you enjoying this confusion?" she asked sharply. "Or do you think your place here gives you the right—"

Valerie finally spoke. Her voice was calm, almost gentle.

"I’m not asking anything of him."

Ivanka smiled crookedly. "Of course not. You don’t need to."

Demian turned fully toward Ivanka. "Enough."

That single word plunged the room into true silence.

"Whatever exists between us," Demian went on, "will never be discussed like this. Not in front of her."

Ivanka stiffened. "So you choose her?"

Demian did not answer right away. He looked at Valerie and this time, there was no hesitation in his eyes.

"I choose not to live in lies anymore," he said. "And that includes lying to you."

Valerie released a quiet breath. Warmth spread through her chest not triumph, not pleasure. Just the certainty that she was no longer facing this alone.

Ivanka let out a short, bitter laugh. "Interesting," she said. "So this is how it ends."

She glanced at Valerie one last time. "Enjoy it while you can."

Then she turned and walked away, her steps quick, her back rigid.

When the hall finally fell silent, Valerie stood still for a few seconds. Then she spoke softly, without excess emotion.

"Your problems aren’t over."

Demian nodded. "I know."

Valerie looked at him. "But for the first time... I don’t feel like a burden."

Demian met her gaze steadily. "Because you’re not."

And within the castle that had turned cold again, Valerie realized one important thing she might still have to face Ivanka, the world, and all its demands but she would no longer face them with a fragile heart.

Valerie only truly felt it once everything had fallen silent.

Not when Ivanka left.

Not when Demian stood with his back to her.

But when she was finally alone when the door to her chamber closed and the world stopped demanding anything from her.

Her chest felt strange.

Not painful.

Not tight.

But full, as though something were slowly growing between her ribs warm, trembling, and bewildering.

For the first time...

Demian had chosen her.

Not with sweet words.

Not with grand promises.

But with action with standing in front of her and telling the world to stop.

Valerie sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. Her hand returned to her abdomen without her noticing, her fingers tensing and then relaxing.

"Strange..." she whispered.

She did not feel victorious.

She did not feel happy in the way stories often described.

What she felt instead was a small, tender fear fear born from hope.

A soft knock sounded at the door.

Valerie did not answer, but she knew who it was.

Demian entered slowly, as if afraid his presence might break something fragile. His eyes immediately caught Valerie’s expression quiet, composed, yet clearly locked in a battle with her own thoughts.

"Are you angry?" he asked.

Valerie shook her head gently. "No."

"Tired?"

"A little."

Demian stepped closer, stopping in front of her. He did not touch her right away, did not force the distance.

"Then... what are you feeling?"

The question made Valerie lift her face.

Her eyes shimmered slightly, but she did not cry.

"I feel... like I don’t know what to do," she said honestly. "Because all this time, I’ve always been preparing myself to be the one who’s set aside. The one who isn’t chosen."

Demian stiffened.

Valerie continued, her voice still gentle, though every word carried weight.

"And today... you stood in front of me. Not in front of her."

She smiled faintly a fragile smile.

"I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel after that."

Demian knelt in front of her, level with her gaze. His hand lifted hesitantly, then paused in midair.

"May I?" he asked softly.

Valerie nodded.

Demian touched her cheek, his thumb brushing slowly an ordinary gesture, done with great care.

"I didn’t do it to hurt anyone," he said. "I did it because I realized... I’ve let you feel alone for far too long."

Valerie swallowed. "Why now?"

Because the question was honest.

And the answer was not simple.

Demian lowered his gaze for a moment. "Because I was afraid," he admitted at last. "Afraid to admit that if I kept choosing silence, I would lose you not because you would leave, but because you would stop hoping."

Valerie drew in a sharp breath.

It struck something she had kept buried deep inside.

"I don’t know what our future will look like," Demian continued. "Ivanka, our families, the world none of it is resolved."

He looked straight at Valerie.

"But I want you to know one thing. Today was not an accident. I chose you because I wanted to choose you."

Silence settled between them.

Slowly, Valerie reached for Demian’s hand and held it.

"I’m afraid to believe it," she said truthfully. "But I’m also tired of denying what I feel."

Demian nodded. "Then we can be afraid together."