Overwhelmed by sorrow, Winter finally broke down in tears.

The bitter words she had been trying to force out turned into sobs before she could finish them.

She never even managed to tell him about the pregnancy.

The question she truly wanted to ask — “Didn’t you love me too?” — remained trapped inside her.

She wanted to know why it had to end like this.

Why it had to end so cruelly.

And whether it was all because of her father.

When Winter could no longer speak, Eden tilted his head slightly.

“Miss Wood. What exactly is it that you want to hear from me?”

“…”

“It seems to me that you’re the one who understands best that there’s nothing left for us to discuss.”

There was not the slightest hint of regret in his words.

After glancing around the room with cool, detached eyes, he continued.

“This place belongs to you now. Do with it as you wish. For a young artist, I imagine the patronage is more than generous enough. If there’s anything else you need, speak to Parker. Within reason, I’ll make sure it’s taken care of.”

‘Patronage.’

The word struck Winter like a bucket of ice water.

She had believed they were lovers.

No matter when things had begun to fall apart, she had believed their relationship had started with love.

“…Did you just call it patronage?”

“Then was there some other meaning to what we had?”

“…”

“You’re not so young that you don’t understand why I arranged a place where we could meet beyond the eyes of society. Or were you expecting something more?”

He tilted his head slightly as he looked at her, as though her question was genuinely beyond his comprehension.

His blue eyes were fixed on her and felt unbearably cold.

Only then did Winter finally understand.

How foolish she had been!

How painfully naïve she had been!

She realized what her time with Eden Mayer in this house had truly meant.

People could share a bed without love.

So why had she never considered that possibility?

Why had she convinced herself that his gentle kisses and the heat of his touch could only signify affection?

The answer hit her with cruel clarity, and her heart shattered all over again.

“Then… it was all just my misunderstanding.”

Winter lowered her gaze to the floor.

When she finally spoke, her voice was hoarse and quivering.

For the first time, she saw herself the way he must have seen her: a woman making demands she had no right to make.

Such discreet patronage arrangements were not uncommon between artists and nobles.

In fact, it was widely known that several of her fellow apprentices were in private relationships with noblewomen.

If that was truly the nature of their relationship, then there had been no reason for him to tell her about his marriage plans.

Such arrangements were, by their very nature, one-sided — entirely governed by the wishes and decisions of the patron.

She had been so blinded by her first love that she had failed to see reality for what it was.

The truth was painfully simple.

The most pathetic person standing there was her.

‘I’m pregnant.’

The words that she had never found the courage to speak were burning in her throat, crumbling into ashes.

This was not where she belonged.

She didn’t want to use the child as leverage to continue the conversation, either.

Even if she had nothing else, she still had her pride to protect.

Slowly, Winter pushed herself to her feet.

There was nothing left to say.

Nothing left she wanted to hear.

Eden watched her retreating figure with dark, sinking eyes.

The repressed feelings groaned beneath the strain.

A fierce urge rose within him—the desperate desire to take back every word he had just spoken.

The moment her slender figure disappeared down the corridor, his jaw tightened.

The veins on the back of his hand stood out sharply as he dug his fingers into the curved armrest of the sofa.

Without moving an inch, Eden endured the agonizingly slow passage of time.

The way he and Winter had first met beneath the gentle spring sunlight no longer mattered.

Nor did it matter who he had been in the memories they had created together.

No matter how it had begun, the ending was always the same.

This was where it ended.

With Jeffrey Wood’s daughter.

Or rather, the daughter of Arthur Helburn.

***

On the final day of the two-week exhibition, the gallery was full of visitors who had arrived later in the day.

Winter turned into the corridor closed to the public and made her way towards the administrative office.

As she reached for the doorknob, her gaze drifted to the nearby mirror.

Before she could take in her pale reflection, still recovering from a severe illness, she heard footsteps approaching.

“Oh, you’re here. You must have been quite sick. You still don’t look very well.”

A staff member returning from upstairs greeted her warmly.

Winter stepped inside and offered an awkward smile.

“I’m feeling much better now. More importantly, I heard there were some documents I needed to review.”

“Yes, please have a seat. Here is the list of works sold during the exhibition. Please take your time to look it over and then sign in the space at the bottom. All the other artists have already completed their paperwork.”

The staff member handed her a pen with practiced efficiency.

Processing sales records on the last day of an exhibition was part of her routine.

After reviewing the figures — the primary source of income for any painter — Winter took the pen and signed the documents silently.

It should have been a happy moment.

Yet her mind was elsewhere, consumed by unshakable thoughts.

There had once been a time when Winter had made countless plans for the day she finally earned a substantial amount of money.

Now, however, she could not think of a single one.

With tired, lifeless eyes, she finished reviewing the paperwork and handed it back.

“Have you finished checking everything? One moment, please.”

The staff member organized the documents before continuing.

“This is the payment for your sold works, minus the commission fees. Please confirm the amount. Is there anything else you need, or would you like us to contact your atelier?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

Winter gave a brief reply.

It didn’t take her long to receive the envelope containing her payment and complete the remaining paperwork.

After saying her goodbyes, she left the office quietly.

To reach the exit from the staff-only area, she had to pass through the main exhibition hall once more.

With her gaze lowered, she retraced her steps.

Having spent several days confined to bed, she still had commissioned paintings to complete.

Although she was not yet fully recovered, she needed to return to the atelier.

There was work that had to be done.

No matter how hard she tried to focus on other things, one thought kept slipping through the cracks: Eden’s face appeared in the reflection on the polished marble floor.

That day had marked the end.

It would most likely be her last memory of Eden Mayer.

From now on, unless fate intervened, there would be no reason for their paths to cross again.

The relationship she had once thought was love had turned out to be so fragile.

***

“Winter, come sit over here.”

The firm voice stopped her the moment she stepped through the atelier door.

Ellen, whose expression had remained troubled ever since they left the hospital, got straight to the point.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m much better now. I’m truly sorry for causing you so much worry.”

“Good. Then tell me what you plan to do now. Surely you don’t intend to keep working here while carrying that child.”

“…”

“I valued your talent highly, Winter. That’s why my expectations were high as well. So what exactly is this? I have to admit, I’m deeply disappointed.”

Winter hesitated, unable to answer.

Thoughts of the baby had kept her awake night after night, and yet she still had no concrete plans for the future.

Looking down, she instinctively concealed her flat stomach beneath the folds of her skirt.

At the very least, she wanted to complete her current commissions before requesting a leave of absence.

Since starting her career, she had never taken a break.

But now she desperately needed time to sort through her thoughts.

Before she could speak, Ellen sighed wearily and announced her decision.

“Once you’ve finished the painting you’re working on, you should clear out your space in the atelier.”

The dismissal came without warning.

Shock flashed across Winter’s pale face.

“Master…”

“I know you’ve worked harder than anyone else. I know that.”

Ellen paused before continuing.

“But I have no intention of allowing this atelier to become the center of unnecessary gossip and scandal.”

The harsh reality of Ellen’s words made the corners of Winter’s lips tremble.

She had no excuse.

But she didn’t want to leave like this.

“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to make excuses or change your mind, Master. I just—”

“If you had considered the atelier and my position, even a little, this never should have happened in the first place.”

“…”

“I don’t want to drag this conversation out any longer. Please don’t force me to become an even worse person than I already feel.”

The mentor who had supported Winter throughout her time at the atelier shook her head firmly.

Once Ellen had made up her mind, there was no room for negotiation.

If her decision was final, there was no choice but to accept it.

Standing before the atelier’s owner, Winter felt utterly lost.

It was as though she had nowhere left to go.

“Finish the work you have left as quickly as possible, then return to your hometown.”

Ellen had said everything she needed to. Eager to escape the awkward conversation, she got up.

It was not easy to dismiss a student she genuinely cared about.

Setting her personal feelings aside, Winter was one of the most talented artists Ellen had ever taught.

This only made the decision more painful.

But she could not bear to watch her waste away slowly in this place.

Seeing her skip meals while pregnant had taken its toll on Ellen.

If Winter left the atelier, she could return home and receive the support and care of her father.

Above all…

The Duke of Mayer — the man whose marriage negotiations had dominated the newspapers — was about to get married.

When that happened, a grand wedding would undoubtedly take place in Vartz.

Ellen did not want Winter to witness it.

‘Men really are the same. None of them can be trusted.’

Ellen shook her head, deliberately refusing to look back.

For now, being a cold and unyielding teacher was the kindest thing she could do for her student.

Click.

Click.

The sharp sound of her heels echoed across the floor and gradually faded into silence.

Winter was left alone in the studio that had been her second home for years.

Perhaps it was because she was still recovering.

Or maybe her nerves had simply been pushed beyond their limit.

Whatever the reason, exhaustion crashed over her like an overwhelming weight.

It had been an unbearably long day.