“Have the meal brought out. For two.”

Upon returning from the annexe to the manor, Siliar addressed the butler who had come to receive them.

His expression was as usual, but his tone was noticeably brisker than usual. Anyone could tell he was urging haste.

In fact, ‘eager’ might be a more accurate word.

This was so apparent that even the butler, who had simply come to receive his orders, could not miss it.

There was no need to explain how unusual such a sight was. For the past five years, their master and mistress had been weighed down by nothing but bitterness and resentment. It had been a very long time since even the faintest glimmer of hope had appeared between them.

For now, at least, that reaction could only be seen in Siliar.

“Is there anything you would like to eat? If you tell me, I will have it prepared.”

The butler’s gaze shifted between the couple as he asked the question. Siliar then turned towards Martiana, who was handing her outer coat to a maid.

“Is there something you want? Tell me if there is.”

“Anything is fine.”

“Onion soup? You used to like that.”

“That’s not necessary. There’s no need to make it specially. Whatever is already prepared will be enough.”

Martiana replied briefly to the butler, who was waiting for her response.

The truth was, she didn’t have much of an appetite. Everything would taste the same anyway. She had never particularly enjoyed food.

More than anything right now—

“What about Countess Pumilum and the child?”

—it was more accurate to say her attention was elsewhere.

“They haven’t returned yet?”

Martiana glanced from the entrance to the butler, her expression troubled. She had hoped to run into the child on her way back. But there had been no sign of them yet.

It was already quite late.

Even if the child had a guardian, wasn’t it too dark for them to still be out?

This thought weighed on her. Martiana kept glancing outside the manor.

Perhaps a little too often. In fact, she did so often that Siliar, who was standing beside her, found it strange.

“It seems something is delaying them. Boridge, inform us at once when Countess Pumilum arrives.”

“Yes, my lord. I will notify you as soon as she returns.”

The butler bowed respectfully at Siliar’s command.

He added that he would also inform them once the meal was ready, then took his leave.

“It may take a little time. Shall we wait in the drawing room?”

As he watched the butler retreat, Siliar held out his arm to Martiana.

This was an extension of the offer he had made to escort her from the villa to the manor.

If Martiana had not quietly shaken her head when she looked at him, he would have taken her there.

“No. I’ll stay here, so you should go ahead.”

She answered, turning her gaze back towards the entrance.

She had no intention of leaving. At least until the butler announced that dinner was ready.

It might look foolish.

But she could not help it.

If she wanted to soothe her restless unease, this was the only way she knew.

It seemed Siliar did not like that.

“You’re telling me to go alone without you?”

“Why are you making it sound strange?”

Martiana blinked at him, her expression plainly asking what he was talking about.

They had spent far more days living separately than together. Whether by intention or not, that had been their reality.

If anything, clinging to each other like this now was what felt unusual.

“We walked here together just a moment ago.”

“That was because it was dark. It’s bright here.”

Nevertheless, Martiana gently pushed away the arm he had extended towards her. His arm returned to its original position under this light pressure.

Unsurprisingly, his expression did not brighten.

“You said we need practice. This counts as practice too, doesn’t it?”

“If you start labeling everything like that, there’ll be no end to it. Let’s stop here.”

“Then we’ll postpone this to tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Practice doesn’t end in one day, does it?”

Siliar shrugged as though the answer were obvious.

This casual attitude caused Martiana’s eyebrows to furrow momentarily.

As she replayed his words in her mind, her reaction slipped out.

“Practice — fine.”

She admitted that much. If they were going to live together, they would have to get used to each other again. But wouldn’t that take more than one day? And the day after that, too?

“You’re not planning to do this every day, are you?”

Two hours a day was already more than she had intended to give.

Martiana looked up at him, her disbelief plain to see.

Reading her expression perfectly, Siliar curved his lips into a smile.

“Of course. We’ll continue until you can act naturally.”

“Naturally? Are you saying I was unnatural?”

“You didn’t notice?”

He tilted his head slightly to the side.

“You didn’t hold my hand.”

Not even once on the way here.

***

It did feel a little petty.

Looking at Martiana, who was staring back at him, Siliar acknowledged this to himself.

Not that she was, but that he was.

The fact that he was even picking apart such details made him realize it. After all, they had come together. He could have simply let it pass.

And yet—

“You didn’t hold my hand.”

He had chosen those words as an excuse.

But what else could he say? It was the truth.

During the fifteen-minute walk from the annexe to the manor — brief, depending on your perspective — Martiana hadn’t held his hand once. She had only extended hers. It was as though that was the limit of what she was willing to allow.

Her touch was so light and fragile that it felt as though it would disappear the moment he loosened his grip.

It hurt so unexpectedly.

Their skin met, yet her slender fingers never curled around his. Once, they had laced their fingers together without a second thought. Now, even that simple closeness was forbidden.

The quiet bitterness of it made him tighten his hold.

It was a sharp, aching reminder of just how far apart they still were.

And yet—

‘It felt good.’

Although it was good, it was almost impossible to reconcile with the man who, until recently, had barely crossed paths with his wife.

The fluttering, trembling sweetness of the past was gone. Time had passed. They had hurt each other too much for things to stay the same.

What Siliar felt today was simply good.

Martiana’s existence.

As his wife. As the person he loved.

The fact that she was simply by his side.

‘Her hand…’

Simply holding her hand brought him a strange, overwhelming sense of relief.

It would not have been an exaggeration to say that he nearly shuddered.

It would not have been an exaggeration to say that he nearly shuddered.

They weren’t holding hands as tightly as they had during their courtship, nor were they standing close together. And yet the warmth lingered long afterwards.

Perhaps it was only because so much time had passed. It had been so long since their skin had touched like that.

Not a handshake. Not a gesture of comfort. But a kind of contact that belonged only to them.

That alone had felt unbearably good.

His hand fit so perfectly within hers. Its slender, delicate softness. The warmth. The steady, unhurried rhythm of her steps beside him.

He wanted to hold on to that moment for as long as possible.

So—

“It won’t do if you act so awkward.”

He came up with an excuse like this. So that he could indulge in whatever he wanted, whenever he pleased. In other words, it was a declaration of intent.

“You promised. We agreed to live like an ordinary married couple.”

What kind of husband and wife can’t even properly hold hands?

Siliar raised an eyebrow and met Martiana’s gaze, looking for her agreement.

She could not conceal her bewilderment at his attitude.

She had not even realized it herself until he mentioned it.

‘That’s a relief.’

If she had done it deliberately, it would have stung far more.

He knew that one bite was never enough. He would probably see that expression often from now on.

That look of discomfort whenever he suggested something.

Of course.

She was desperate to leave him — what place did physical contact have in such a situation?

Still, a promise was a promise.

Once they had agreed to something, they would honor it.

On that matter, Siliar was not going to back down.

“This is exactly why practice is necessary. Until you grow used to it.”

“And when will that be? I told you to keep physical contact to a minimum.”

Martiana was not easy to deal with either.

She responded by raising the terms they had negotiated.

The only problem was that Siliar was far more experienced in matters of treaties than she was.

“Of course. We’ll only touch on it during practice. Besides, you don’t have the authority to end it first. We agreed that the decision to touch or part would be mine.”

“Th—!”

At his smooth, unbroken response, Martiana parted her lips, at a loss for words.

‘That’s why you shouldn’t let your mind wander while negotiating terms.’

Siliar smiled pleasantly. He seemed like a reasonable man.

She knew she could not defeat him on this matter. He had already planned everything out.

Did she really think he was making such a fuss just to hold hands?

They already had a child together.

‘Not a chance.’

Ah, yes — hadn’t she said no to sharing a bed?

Never mind.

There were plenty of other things besides that.

He would take whatever was allowed.

“Martiana. We’re married. We can’t hesitate over something as small as a hand.”

The beginning was a hand.

“If you don’t like it, then get used to it quickly. Once you do, I won’t say another word.”

As for the ending… well.

Even he did not know how far it would go.

Leaving those thoughts unsaid, Siliar smiled to himself. He found it satisfying to watch Martiana become flustered by his words. The way her eyes darted around, searching for a counterargument, was almost endearing.

Unfortunately—

“My lord, the meal is ready.”

The butler’s call cut their exchange short.

And when they stepped into the dining room—

“What is this? You two?”

—the conversation was halted entirely by the person who had arrived before them.

Red hair. A red dress.

Drisena, who never failed to dress herself in red, was next to take the stage.