ONE NIGHT STAND WITH HOT DUKE-Chapter 62: I shouldn’t have seen

Sera turned to her, clearly surprised. "My lady...?"

Valerie shook her head slightly, forcing a small smile. "I’m suddenly not hungry."

Sean did not ask another question.

He only bowed briefly. "As you wish, my lady."

Without a single protest, without unnecessary curiosity, Sean signaled the guards. Sera and Lira quickly adjusted their steps, following Valerie as she turned away.

They left just like that.

Valerie did not look back.

Yet every step away from the bakery felt like leaving behind something far greater than an uneaten pastry a small hope for simple happiness, once again taken by reality.

Behind her, Ivanka’s laughter still echoed in her mind. And Demian’s smile... lingered, haunting her thoughts.

Valerie walked straight ahead.

With a calm face. With a heart in ruins.

Valerie returned to the castle as dusk approached.

The carriage came to a slow halt, and the moment her feet touched the cold marble floor, she realized how heavy her steps felt. Not from a day of shopping, but from the images that refused to leave her mind Demian’s smile, Ivanka’s laughter, a closeness too real to ignore.

She ascended to her chambers with a composed face and a straight back, as though nothing had happened. The servants bowed respectfully, while Sera and Lira followed behind her with unspoken worry. Only after the door closed did Valerie allow her shoulders to sink slightly, a long breath escaping her chest.

She stood before the mirror.

The new dresses she had bought hung neatly. Her hair was perfectly arranged. Her face was beautiful, flawless. Yet her eyes... her eyes felt unfamiliar. Something in them had dimmed, something that had not recovered since the afternoon.

Demian said he would come for me, she thought.Tonight.

Valerie continued to prepare.

She bathed, chose her gown with care, and let Sera help tighten the ribbons at her back. Every movement was calm, almost mechanical as if stopping for even a moment would allow her emotions to crash back with unbearable force.

Time passed. 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

The sky outside the window darkened. Candles were lit. The clock ticked on, merciless.

Demian did not come.

Valerie sat on the edge of the bed, her hands folded neatly in her lap. She did not pace. She did not fidget. She simply waited with a strange patience, the kind born from long familiarity with accepting everything without protest.

A soft knock sounded at the door.

It was not Demian.

A messenger entered with his head bowed, carrying a letter on a silver tray.

"For Lady Valerie," he said respectfully."His Grace, the Duke, sends a message. You are asked to rest tonight. The Duke will not come for you. The event... will be attended another time."

Valerie accepted the letter with hands that barely trembled.

The contents were brief. Far too brief.

The words were polite, cold, and formal so unlike Demian’s warm whispers that morning. There was no explanation. No apology. Only a decision.

Valerie folded the letter slowly.

"Thank you," she said softly.

The messenger withdrew, leaving the room silent once more.

Valerie remained seated for a long time.

Then she exhaled.

Not a sob. Not anger. Just a long breath, as though it carried something heavy out of her chest even if it did not truly disappear.

That night, Demian did not return to the castle.

And morning came far too quickly.

Valerie awoke with a hollow emptiness lingering inside her. She prepared as usual, went down for breakfast, then returned to her chambers. Everything proceeded normally, too normall until the voices reached her ears.

The servants’ whispers.

Not loud. Not blatant. But clear enough.

"...they say last night Duke Morvex arrived with his fiancée..."

"...they looked so well-matched..."

"...they even danced together, terribly romantic..."

Valerie paused in the corridor.

Her fingers tightened around the fabric of her dress. Something in her chest quivered not a sharp pain, but a bitter tickle that almost made her laugh.

Romantic?So that’s how it was.

She nearly laughed for real. Nearly.

But not a single word left her lips.

She continued walking as though she had heard nothing.

Inside her room, Sera and Lira exchanged glances. They knew Valerie had heard. And they knew her silence was not indifference, but care taken too deeply.

"My lady," Sera said at last, her voice gentle, "please don’t listen. People in the capital love their gossip."

Lira nodded in agreement. "You know how they are. They exaggerate everything."

Valerie smiled faintly.

"I know," she replied softly.

And it was true. She knew.

She knew gossip was the weapon of those without power. She knew the truth was often far quieter than the stories that spread.

But knowing... did not always make her immune.

Valerie stood by the window, gazing out at the calm castle grounds. Her face remained graceful, her posture composed.

Yet deep within her heart, something bitter was beginning to take shape,

That her position, no matter how warm Demian’s treatment of her had been, was still fragile.That in this world, she could be asked to wait...and just as easily be left waiting.

Demian returned to the castle as afternoon slowly gave way to evening, when the sunlight softened and the rose garden was filled with the scent of damp earth and freshly trimmed blooms.

Valerie was there.

She stood with garden shears in her hands, alongside Sera and Lira, carefully cutting the rose stems. Soft pink and white petals fell gently into the woven basket beside her. Her movements were calm, almost meditative, as though she were arranging something within herself not merely flowers.

She wanted to do something with those roses. Something simple. Something that did not involve other people’s feelings.

When the sound of footsteps reached her across the gravel path, Valerie knew... even before she turned.

Sera and Lira exchanged glances. Without needing to be told, they bowed politely and withdrew, leaving behind the spare shears and the basket of roses. They understood there were moments they should not occupy.

The garden was left with only the two of them.

Demian approached Valerie from behind. He did not speak right away. His gaze settled on her straight back, the precise way she cut each stem, the calm that felt... too carefully arranged.

"Are you busy?" he asked at last.

Valerie turned, her expression gentle as ever.

"Not really," she replied softly. "I just wanted to tidy up the garden a little."

There was no accusation. No sarcasm. No question about last night. Nothing about Ivanka, the banquet, or the brief letter.

And precisely because of that, Demian felt... relieved.

He studied Valerie more closely. Her face was composed. Her eyes clear. There were no traces of tears, no anger hidden behind a smile as if whatever had happened the night before had simply passed like a breeze.

She’s never been one to seek conflict, Demian thought.And... too understanding.

He stepped closer, reaching out to touch the fingers that still held the shears. Their fingers brushed briefly. Valerie did not pull away she merely loosened her grip.

Demian leaned in, intending to kiss her as he always did. To him, it was a soothing habit, a reassurance that everything was still the same.

But Valerie took half a step back.

It was not a harsh rejection. Nor was it cold.

She simply lifted her hand slightly, resting it gently against Demian’s chest.

"Not now," she said quietly. "I have a canker sore."

The words were simple. Her tone flat, almost casual.

Yet Demian stopped.

His brows drew together faintly.

"A sore?" he repeated.

Without asking permission, he lifted Valerie’s chin with two fingers, bringing his face closer. His gaze was sharp and searching not suspicious, but intent on confirming.

Valerie did not resist. She did not knock his hand away. She simply stood still, allowing him to examine her lips, allowing the distance to remain.

And it was true.

At the corner of her mouth, there was a small, faint wound. Not obvious, but real enough.

Demian slowly released her chin.

Valerie met his gaze again, her eyes calm, though something subtle trembled within them.

"Why are you like this?" she asked at last.Her voice was gentle, yet there was a thin distance in it a distance that had not been there before.

Demian fell silent for a moment.

Then he spoke briefly, honestly, without trying to sound gentle.

"I don’t like being lied to."