The next morning, Bella slowly opened her eyes in the hotel bedroom.

Even after returning to the hotel, her body still ached from the night before. Every muscle protested as she tried to move. It felt like an eternity just to sit up. Leaning back against the headboard, she rubbed her dry, heavy eyes and surveyed the room quietly.

‘This is…’

Bright, unfiltered sunlight streamed through the window as though morning had set in long ago. Yet her sleep-addled mind struggled to determine whether the previous night had been real or a dream.

The room, however, still bore the quiet remnants of what had happened, as if time itself had paused, reminding her that it had all been real.

And beside her—

Bella turned her head and drew in a sharp breath.

Logan was lying next to her, his shirt discarded and his upper body bare. Still asleep, he rested against the pillow, breathing slowly and evenly.

She remembered how she had clung to him throughout the night, her voice trembling beneath his touch. Heat flooded her cheeks.

Carefully, she began to move, intending to get dressed before he woke up. But at the slightest rustle of the sheets, his eyes slowly opened.

“You’re awake already? You must be tired. You should sleep a little longer.”

His voice, rough with sleep, was lower than usual.

“No, it’s just…”

Her words trailed off awkwardly. Embarrassed, she lay back down and stared at the ceiling. She felt him shift beside her.

Logan rolled onto his side to face her. Lifting a hand, he gently brushed her hair back as though tidying it. His fingers moved down to the nape of her neck and paused.

They had touched the scar.

“Was this scar from when you were a child?”

His voice was careful.

“Yes. Before I came to the orphanage. I was told I was involved in a large fire. But I never learned where it happened. Even the director said she didn’t know.”

Bella thought about the scar stretching across her shoulder.

Starting at the nape of her neck, it ran down her shoulder — a long mark that she could only see in the mirror. However, whenever she began to forget about it, the pain would remind her that it was there.

“That must have hurt.”

Logan’s gaze lingered on the scar, its color different from the rest of her skin.

“I don’t really remember. I was bedridden for a long time. They said I was close to death. Perhaps that’s why I don’t remember much about my time at the orphanage either. Once I had recovered, I was sent to the Rosedale estate.”

Bella answered him calmly when he tried to share her pain.

So much time had passed that she could talk about it without her voice trembling. Nevertheless, it was not a memory she wanted to revisit. Looking back, she could hardly comprehend how she had survived her lonely childhood.

If she could speak to the child she once was, that little girl would never believe the life she was living now.

Bella watched as Logan’s hand slowly traced the line of her scar. The mark had been there long before she ever met him, yet he could not seem to look away from it.

It must be unpleasant to see.

And yet, there was no disgust in his touch. No pity.

Only quiet, unwavering concern.

“You don’t need to worry about it. It happened over ten years ago.”

Voices from the past flickered through her mind—mocking words that accused her of clinging to old wounds for sympathy.

Bella placed her hand gently over his, a silent way of telling him she was fine.

“Even so, it doesn’t change the fact that you went through something difficult.”

As though he could see straight through her composure, Logan did not withdraw his hand.

“Do you want to recover your memories?”

He asked the same question again.

Bella fell silent.

If he was asking whether she wanted them back, the answer was obvious.

Of course she did.

But she had long since convinced herself that it was impossible. So she had taught herself not to hope. The greater the expectation, the greater the disappointment.

“I’ve managed just fine without my childhood memories.”

She spoke with steady maturity, but beneath her words lay feelings she could not voice.

If she regained her memories only to find out that her parents had abandoned her after all, she wasn’t sure she could bear it.

Perhaps it was easier to live without knowing, clinging to the faintest possibility that the truth was different.

“I received a reply from a physician renowned for neurological research. He believes there may be a way to help you recover your memories.”

Logan explained why he had mentioned the scar.

Despite Bella insisting that she could live as she was, he had not stopped searching. After making some discreet enquiries, he finally received a letter from a doctor who was willing to treat her.

“If you want to try, we’ll begin.”

Finding such a specialist required considerable resources. But the decision was entirely hers.

Bella felt a deep sense of gratitude.

He had sought out a doctor for her long before they admitted their feelings for each other.

The duke was a kind man.

More than that, he knew how to share his kindness.

It was this that made her heart tremble.

***

The following days were so peaceful that Bella sometimes found herself wondering if she truly deserved to be so happy.

Even after they had confessed their feelings, their daily lives did not change dramatically.

Logan remained as busy as ever and rarely had time to spend with her. He would return to the hotel late in the evening, share a brief, quiet moment with her and then leave again before dawn.

Bella’s routine remained much the same, too. Aside from the days she attended court hearings related to the concluded investigation, she spent most of her time in her hotel room.

She read. She drank tea. She let the hours pass as she always had. And yet, something felt different.

For the first time, she did not need to look after anyone. She did not have to choose her words carefully or be cautious in her movements.

The gentle warmth of the afternoon sun poured through the window.

On the table were a cup of tea, still faintly steaming, and a slice of cake, half eaten, with a neatly laid fork beside it.

Bella had been studying accounting from a book that Logan had brought her. She was midway through writing careful notes when she suddenly lifted her head.

Across from her sat Logan, who had said he needed to leave soon for an afternoon meeting. Yet he had not moved from the bedroom.

Instead, he was watching her.

“If you keep staring at me like that, I won’t be able to concentrate.”

At her remark, Logan smiled lazily, as though he had expected that answer.

“Then perhaps you should take a break. Why not close the book and come here?”

He spread his arms wide, utterly natural in the gesture.

Bella studied him for a moment, then let out a small sigh. Shaking her head, she returned her gaze to the book.

“So the tedious accounting text is more important than I am? Has your heart cooled already?”

He deliberately softened his voice in mock disappointment.

“You said you had a meeting at three.”

Bella replied calmly, long accustomed to his playful complaints.

“If I go over there, you’ll just refuse to leave until your secretary comes looking for you—saying you don’t want to argue with those old men who never listen.”

It struck precisely at the truth.

The duke, who initially seemed diligent and tireless, was actually someone who complained daily about how much he disliked work. Knowing how busy he was, Bella had initially indulged his whims. However, after the same scene repeated itself day after day, she no longer yielded so easily.

She felt uneasy at the thought that his schedule might fall into disarray because of her. She also felt apologetic towards the secretary who had to collect him each time.

“I never imagined hearing the truth could sound this heartless.”

Logan sighed at her firm response, but his smile never wavered.

In fact, he liked this side of Bella — the fact that she didn’t just indulge him unthinkingly.

Perhaps that was why he felt tempted to act even more childishly.

Still, he restrained himself and rose from the sofa obediently.

Walking over to the desk, he leaned down and pressed a brief kiss onto her forehead. Before she could protest, he stepped back and picked up his coat.

“I’ll be back.”

His footsteps were light as he left the room.