ONE NIGHT STAND WITH HOT DUKE-Chapter 92: Wife in opera

To be the woman who is loved but not chosen. To be the place someone returns to, not the final destination.

Applause rose from the audience as the scene came to a temporary close. In her seat, Valerie joined in, clapping with mechanical politeness proper, composed, yet not truly present.

Because without realizing it, she was no longer merely watching an opera.

She was staring into a mirror.

The opera ended on a long, bitter note a finale that offered no relief, only a heavy silence that settled deep in the chest. The curtain slowly fell, the lights came on one by one, and applause filled the hall. Some of the audience stood, while others remained seated, eyes rimmed with red.

Sera and Lira were among the latter.

Sera dabbed at the corner of her eyes with a handkerchief, her nose flushed. "I really can’t accept it," she said hoarsely as they rose from their seats. "He loved that woman since they were children... and yet he still chose his wife. In the end, the kept woman always loses."

Lira was worse. Tears spilled freely down her cheeks. "And that man he has no heart at all," she said angrily through her sobs. "How can he claim to love two women at once? Touch one, then go home to the arms of another. That’s cruel."

Valerie walked between them, her steps slow. She listened, but she wasn’t truly part of the conversation. Sera’s and Lira’s words passed through her ears like a distant echo something she refused to touch too deeply.

She wasn’t crying.She didn’t even feel the urge to.

There was only an empty space in her chest silent, cold, and full of questions.

Outside the opera house, the night air greeted them. Street lanterns glowed, horse-drawn carriages passed by, and the city’s noise returned to life. Sera and Lira continued talking, trading their feelings about the story about injustice, about love that should never have been like that.

Valerie only nodded now and then.

Her thoughts had already drifted far away.

Will I stay with Demian?

The question surfaced without warning. Until now, she had never truly allowed herself to dwell on it. Everything had flowed, been forced, or decided by Demian without Valerie ever honestly choosing what she wanted.

Then another thought struck her, nearly making her falter.

What if I’m pregnant?

Her heart began to race.

In the opera, the woman had been pregnant too. She carried the child of the man who claimed to love her yet still chose his wife. And with every wound she swallowed alone, that woman withdrew quietly, neatly, as if her existence had only ever been temporary.

Not demanding.Not resisting.Not disturbing the order of things.

Valerie swallowed hard.

Am I ready to become like that?

She remembered Demian’s words his hand on her abdomen, his expectations spoken without asking. As if Valerie’s body were merely a vessel, and the child’s future already decided before it even existed.

Forced into pregnancy.Forced into silence.Forced to accept being cast aside someday.

Valerie clenched her fingers beneath her cloak. 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

She didn’t know the answer. What she did know was that the fear was real. And for the first time, she realized that the most terrifying thing was not losing Demian

but losing herself if she continued to stay.

Beside her, Sera suddenly caught her arm. "Valerie, are you all right?"

Valerie offered a faint smile, one that felt unfamiliar on her own face. "I’m fine," she said softly.

But in her heart, the question still lingered, refusing to fade.

If that day comes... will she be strong enough to choose herself?

"Everywhere," Sera said as she walked beside Valerie, her voice still heavy with emotion, "whether in real life or on the opera stage, the lawful woman is always the winner."

Lira nodded quickly, her face still wet with tears. "It’s always like that. Status defeats feelings. No matter how great the kept woman’s love is, in the end she’s just a side story."

Their steps slowed as they entered a quieter street. The sounds of the city faded into the distance, leaving space for a conversation that kept circling the same subject.

"Do you think so too, Valerie?" Sera asked suddenly, turning to her with hopeful eyes. "If you were that woman, what would you do?"

Lira looked at her as well. "Yes. You’ve been so quiet. You usually have an opinion."

Valerie fell silent for a moment.

She looked down at the cobblestones beneath her feet, watching the three of their shadows stretch long under the lamplight. Sera’s words about winning felt strange to her. As if love were a competition, and marriage the trophy that decided who deserved to remain.

"I..." Valerie drew a slow breath. "I think no one truly wins."

Sera frowned. "But clearly, the wife is the one who’s chosen."

"Chosen, yes," Valerie nodded faintly. "But being chosen doesn’t mean being happy. And losing doesn’t mean having no dignity."

Lira hesitated before speaking. "But the kept woman suffered. She lost everything."

Valerie lifted her gaze. For a moment, her eyes were remarkably calm too calm. "She lost the man," she said softly, "but maybe she still has herself. That isn’t nothing."

Sera and Lira exchanged glances, slightly confused by Valerie’s unfamiliar tone.

"Status is powerful," Valerie continued, her voice flat yet honest. "The lawful woman almost always stands in the safe position. But safety doesn’t mean righteousness, and winning doesn’t mean no one gets hurt."

Lira bit her lip. "So if you were in that position... would you walk away?"

Valerie was silent longer this time.

She thought of the opera.She thought of Demian.She thought of herself.

"I don’t know," she finally said. "What I do know is that I don’t want to stay somewhere where I have to keep reminding myself that I’m not allowed to hope."

Sera said nothing. She simply reached for Valerie’s hand and held it tightly. Lira moved closer as well, walking nearer to them both.

The conversation slowly faded, but its meaning lingered.

For Sera and Lira, the opera was merely a sad story about forbidden love.For Valerie, it was a mirror and she was not yet ready to look at her own reflection for too long.

As soon as they truly stepped out of the opera house, Valerie who had been walking ahead suddenly stopped.

Across the street, beneath the yellowish glow of a lantern, stood two figures she knew too well to deny.

Demian. And Ivanka.

They stood fairly close not touching, yet near enough to suggest familiarity. Demian seemed to be saying something, while Ivanka looked at him with a softness she never tried to hide when facing him. From a distance, their conversation appeared calm. Even... natural.

Valerie felt her chest tighten.

She didn’t move. As if taking even one step would cause something inside her to collapse.

Sera, walking just behind her, stopped as well. Her gaze followed Valerie’s, and her eyes widened slightly. "Isn’t that... the Duke?" she whispered, almost in disbelief.

Lira leaned forward to be sure. "Yes," she said quietly. "That’s Lord Demian."

Then she quickly turned to Valerie, confusion clear on her face. "Didn’t he say he would come pick you up himself?"