The next morning, Damian rose before the sun had fully climbed over the cottage spires. After freshening up and dressing in a clean set of clothes, he made his way to the quiet corridor to Roman’s room.

"Your Grace, the young master is still asleep," the maid whispered as she met him at the door.

"I would like to check on him," Damian replied. The maid nodded and carefully turned the handle, easing the door open without a sound.

Damian stepped into the dim room, where the air was still and smelled faintly of lavender. Roman was a tangle of limbs in the center of the large bed; his favorite soft toy had tumbled onto the floor, and one small leg had kicked free of the duvet.

Damian moved to the bedside, the floorboards barely creaking under his boots. He lowered himself onto the edge of the mattress, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of his son’s chest.

For a moment, the stern Duke of Varos vanished. He reached out, his calloused fingers moving with surprising tenderness as he brushed a stray lock of golden hair from the boy’s forehead.

Damian reached out, carefully tucking Roman’s stray leg back beneath the warmth of the duvet. He retrieved the soft toy from the floor and settled it near the boy’s side, but as he did, a small, crumpled ball of paper on the bedside table caught his eye.

Curiosity piqued, Damian smoothed out the parchment. The words were written in the shaky, earnest hand of a child still learning the weight of a pen:

’Please God make my mama happy.’

A bittersweet smile touched Damian’s lips as he set the note back down. Yet, a trace of concern lingered, he wondered why the boy had felt the need to crush the prayer into a ball, as if ashamed of the wish or doubtful it would be heard.

"I’m sorry, Roman," Damian whispered into the quiet of the room. "I am sorry for failing to save your mother. And I am sorry for the times I looked past you when you needed affection most. I am trying, little one, I am trying to be the father you deserve."

He stayed there for a long moment, watching the peaceful sleep of the boy. After a while, he exited the room and descended the stairs.

The living room was empty, though the faint sounds of servants already beginning their morning cleaning echoed through the halls.

Damian didn’t acknowledge anyone, and stepped out of the cottage.

The cool morning air greeted him as he began walking along the cobblestone path.

’Last night, I told Eilika far more than I should have,’ he thought.

He recalled how she had turned quiet the moment he spoke Liliana’s name. She hadn’t followed him into the room immediately, and even after she had joined him, he had only pretended to sleep.

He had laid there in the dark, listening to her toss and turn, the restless rustle of the sheets betraying her troubled mind. He knew his words had chased her sleep away.

’I promised Liliana that I would never forget her,’ he mused, staring at the gray horizon. ’But if I don’t let the memory rest, I will never move on. It has been five years, and I am still anchored to the past. I started seeing her in real too, knowing she no longer exists. My son needs a father who is truly present. And Eilika, a woman like her deserves a husband’s love, yet I feel as though I am incapable of even giving even an ounce of it.’

The weight of his own emotional paralysis felt heavier than the responsibilities he ever had. He was a man trained to command armies and manage provinces, yet he was utterly lost in the territory of his own heart.

~~~~

Eilika brushed her long hair with, her eyes fixed on her own reflection in the mirror.

"Did Damian leave the bed again last night? I was awake for so long, and yet I didn’t even notice," she murmured to herself.

She set the brush down on the polished surface of the dressing table, her mind drifting back to the vulnerability in his voice on the balcony. She knew the weight of his past wasn’t something he could simply cast aside, no matter how much she wished he would.

"I must not make him feel uneasy," she resolved, her voice a quiet vow. "It is already hard enough for him to face me after saying so much. He isn’t ready to let Liliana go, and he certainly isn’t ready to let me in. I should not push him."

As she rose to her feet, the door creaked on its hinges.

Damian walked in, his footsteps halting abruptly as he caught sight of her. Eilika stood bathed in the soft morning light, dressed in a sweeping olive-green gown that clung to her frame in all the right places. Unlike her usual structured styles, she had left her hair open; it fell in dark, silken waves over her shoulders, softening her expression and heightening the natural elegance of her features.

Damian’s gaze lingered, caught off guard by the sight of her without the formal armor of a Duchess.

"Good morning, Damian," Eilika greeted him, her voice soft in the early light.

"Good morning," he replied. He watched as she began to gather her hair. "Leave it," he said. "Let it stay loose. You look even more beautiful that way."

A faint blush crept across Eilika’s cheeks, and her face lit up at the unexpected praise. It was a rare moment of genuine warmth from him, and she felt the small flutter of hope stir in her chest again.

"I will see to the breakfast preparations," she said, needing a moment to compose herself. As she tried to walk past him, Damian reached out and stopped her, his hand firm but not unkind on her arm.

"What I told you last night, keep it to yourself," he said, his gaze searching hers. "I have never shared so much with any woman before, except—" He cut himself off, the name of his late wife hanging unspoken in the air between them.

"Don’t fret, Damian," Eilika assured him, her expression softening into a gentle smile. "I wouldn’t dream of sharing such personal details with anyone. Your secrets are safe with me."

"Also," Damian added, his brow furrowing as he struggled to find the right words, "telling you about her doesn’t mean I don’t wish to move on. It is just... she represents a part of my life when I was entirely alone, buried under the weight of this title."

Eilika stepped closer, looking up at him with an understanding that went beyond their short marriage. "You don’t need to explain yourself to me. I respect your feelings for Liliana, and I always will. You don’t have to force yourself to do things for me that you aren’t ready for. I can wait as long as you need."

Damian nodded. "Thank you, Eilika. I truly mean it, especially for how you have treated Roman. I’m so grateful to you for loving my son so much."

"Roman isn’t just your son anymore. I know I’m not his biological mother, but I married to you to be his mother only. So, he’s my son too," Eilika pronounced with a smile.