(Chapter 43)
As morning approached, the sunlight slowly filtered through the gaps in the curtains, gently illuminating Clarisse Faeloria's face, waking her with a mix of emotions. Her head felt slightly heavy, perhaps from the drink she had the night before, but what was more confusing was her feelings toward Lorcan Frostborne. They were now in a position far different from before, and Clarisse didn't know how to handle this change.
Lorcan was still asleep beside her, his face, usually tense, now appeared more peaceful. Clarisse watched him for a moment, trying to understand what was going on in his mind, never having imagined that their relationship would change in such a way. That night felt like a dream, and now reality was starting to greet them both.
Carefully, Clarisse slowly got out of bed, trying not to wake Lorcan. Her body felt a bit stiff, but it wasn't the physical discomfort that bothered her entirely—it was the emotional turmoil that was hard to explain. Clarisse walked to the window, opened the curtains a little wider, and let the sunlight pour in completely. The fresh morning air felt soothing against her skin, giving her a bit of peace.
However, beneath the calm, there was a creeping sense of worry. "What will happen after this?" she thought. Their previous marriage had only been a formality, a relationship without love that she had entered out of obligation. But that night had changed everything, and the once-certain Clarisse, who had smiled confidently, now found herself doubting that decision.
A soft voice from behind her made her turn. Lorcan was awake, sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at her with an unreadable look. They both stood in silence, not knowing what to say after everything that had happened the night before. The silence between them grew more awkward.
Lorcan finally mustered the courage to speak. "How do you feel?" he asked, his voice quiet but clear, his gaze still sharp as he looked at Clarisse.
Clarisse stared at him for a moment, trying to find the right answer. "I don't know. Last night... it felt so different."
Lorcan stood up from the bed and walked toward Clarisse. His steps were calm but determined, his posture strong and authoritative. "Do you regret it?" he asked, his voice still low, yet every word seemed to carry weight.
Clarisse paused before answering, "I don't know. It all happened so suddenly, without any plans."
Lorcan gazed deeply into her eyes, as if searching for an answer in her confused expression. Between them, there was a distance that couldn't be bridged so easily, even though they stood physically close.
They stood just inches apart, yet something still kept them from truly connecting. Clarisse felt her heartbeat quicken. She knew she had to decide how to move forward with this relationship. She couldn't go back to how things were before, pretending nothing had changed.
"What do I do now?" Clarisse finally asked, her voice weaker than she had intended, full of doubt she couldn't hide.
Lorcan briefly looked out the window, his sharp eyes scanning the view outside, before turning back to face her. "Like the wife of a Duke. But you don't have to force yourself," he answered, his voice softer this time, though still filled with authority.
Clarisse nodded slowly, though her heart was still heavy with deep uncertainty. She knew their relationship had changed, but no one could know how that change would impact her life. Clarisse decided not to rush, to let her feelings develop naturally, even though the road ahead seemed full of uncertainty.
That day, Clarisse was taken aback by a sudden request from Lorcan. A demand she never could have imagined, leaving her silent in a tense stillness. No words needed to be spoken, no feelings forced. For the first time, Clarisse knew this was a duty that had to be fulfilled. That night had opened the door to a deeper relationship, one that could no longer be avoided.
As everything began to feel clearer, Clarisse felt a deep exhaustion, her body weary after a night full of confusion and difficult decisions. Yet, behind that fatigue, there was a complex feeling, a shameful sense of pleasure, something hard for her to believe.
"This isn't me," she muttered softly, as if speaking to herself, trying to process the whirlwind of emotions inside her.