Chapter 19
“I have to send it. Right now.”
If she didn’t, who knew when her heart might weaken again? No—she wasn’t even sure there was anything left in her that could weaken anymore.
Aileen wanted to drive out everything—every trace of those two—from her home.
She ordered the butler to deliver the letter of annulment, along with a written document detailing the compensation, to the House of Avergue. Hilter took one look at her and seemed to understand without asking questions. He didn’t pry.
It felt like finishing an overdue assignment.
With a strange mix of relief and heaviness, Aileen dropped onto her bed like she had collapsed.
“It’s really over now.”
From this moment on, Carlisle would mean nothing to her.
Even if he had sided with Judith, even if he’d painted her as the villain—Aileen had still, until now, harbored some small feeling for him. But it was all burned away now.
She had expected, perhaps, that he might not believe her right away. But she hadn’t expected him to ask again and again, to doubt her so deeply that he demanded an oath.
“No… I must’ve still hoped—still believed he wouldn’t actually doubt me. What a fool I was.”
She let out a breathless, self-mocking laugh and raised one arm over her eyes. The darkness behind her eyelids slowly filled with tears.
Just a few months ago, Carlisle had treated her like she was everything to him. He believed her, no matter what. He used to say, over and over, that he trusted her more than he trusted himself.
And now…
“Is it because it’s Judith?”
Her voice trembled and caught in her throat.
Maybe it had been seeing Judith’s true nature—her two-faced cruelty—that finally broke something inside Aileen.
He had chosen her. Sided with her. Betrayed Aileen… for a woman like that.
He didn’t even know the truth. He’d been fooled like a fool. And yet, somehow, he’d turned on Aileen as if she were the one in the wrong.
She could feel it—the thread of trust she had clung to for so long finally snapping, loud and clear.
Everything she’d held on to slipped from her fingers like smoke. Now there was nothing left. Nothing in her hands, nothing in her heart. What could she possibly fill the emptiness with?
She closed her eyes.
And saw it—their wedding day.
—Carlisle, I’ll love you for the rest of my life.
—Judith, I’ll love only you, forever.
Judith stood in a flowing pink gown, a crown of flowers atop her head, smiling brightly as she looked up at him. Carlisle looked down at her, his expression soft and full of warmth. Then his gaze lowered, resting gently on the swell of Judith’s belly, his hand reaching out to touch it.
“…Ah.”
That should have been her. That was her—once.
She remembered it so clearly. The dress she wore, a deeper pink than her hair. The flower crown, red and white. The way Carlisle had looked at her.
The way he’d leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, sharing his warmth with her, wordlessly promising everything.
She had believed she would never forget that moment for the rest of her life.
And the child she’d dreamed of—his child, the one she had imagined so many times—would now never exist. Not ever. Not in this life.a
While Aileen was handing the annulment papers to Hilter at the estate, her heart in pieces, Carlisle was sitting in a chair, eyes closed, head tilted back in silence.
All around him was darkness.
At its center, Aileen knelt, collapsed, her shoulders shaking as she cried and cried.
Carlisle ran toward her. But a transparent wall stopped him, throwing him back every time. He kept running, again and again, but could never reach her. At some point, his legs simply froze, as if nailed to the ground.
Aileen looked up.
Her violet eyes—once bright enough to burn—now burned with rage, betrayal, and heartbreak as they locked onto his.
Flash.
Carlisle’s eyes flew open. His breath came in short, heavy gasps, like he’d been running in a nightmare.
“Aileen…”
His broken, rasping voice barely slipped through his lips. He dragged a rough hand down his face as if trying to peel away the shame and regret. The mask he’d worn—layered and heavy—crumbled under his fingertips.
He hadn’t planned any of this.
He had hoped, selfishly, that maybe he’d see her—just once. Even by coincidence. But it had only ever been a thought, a quiet hope. He didn’t actually expect it.
And yet, there she was.
He had ruined everything.
It didn’t take long to realize what was happening. Judith, crying and accusing Aileen, spinning her web of lies—it made his stomach turn. It was obvious she had twisted the situation to corner Aileen.
—“I know you love her, but when you’re with me, I want to come first. If not… who knows what might happen, Carlisle? You have to hold up your end of the deal.”
Judith had said that to him not long ago—half threat, half warning. He hadn’t thought he’d see the consequences so clearly, so soon.
But even more than Judith’s cruelty, what he hated most was himself.
For saying what he said to Aileen. For breaking her like that.
Her eyes—wounded, disbelieving—felt like they were strangling him. He wanted to tear out his own tongue.
—“I should’ve listened when people told me not to get involved with a parentless orphan from the lower class. If I’d known you’d turn out to be this ungrateful…”
Aileen’s voice echoed in his ears.
Each word felt like a thorn, a dagger. When she said it, it was like something pierced straight through his chest. And he couldn’t move.
Aileen knew him better than anyone.
She understood exactly how heavy those words were.
She had said them knowing what they would mean to him—just how deeply they would cut.
If anyone else had said those things, he might have brushed them off without a second thought.
But coming from Aileen, the words hit Carlisle like a blade.
For a moment, the mask of anger on his face cracked.
But only for a moment.
Because what filled his vision next was Aileen, trembling as if she had been the one stabbed.
The pain written across her face stopped his furious heartbeat cold.
She’s the one who’s hurting the most right now.
He must’ve lost his mind. No matter how devastated he felt, there had been no excuse to act selfishly in front of her. No excuse to make her shoulder his pain.
It was his fault.
If he walked out of the atelier alone, he knew what Judith would do next.
She’d twist the narrative—blame Aileen, claim she was the one wronged. She’d use the situation to tighten her grip on him.
But Carlisle didn’t have the strength to think about Judith right now.
He left the atelier without another word and made his way to the only place that had ever truly felt like refuge.
A place only he and Aileen had ever shared.
A place where only the two of them had come and gone.
A place where she would never return again.
His tired expression was slowly overtaken by despair.
“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”
His broken murmurs scattered through the empty room like dust in the air.
All he could do was replay the moment he destroyed something precious with his own hands.
This was the price of his failure.
The pain he had caused Aileen—he had no right to forget it, no matter how much it hurt him.
Even though he had wanted this—no, even though he had expected this—it still felt unbearable.
He had imagined it a thousand times. But the reality of losing her was so much crueler than anything he could have dreamed.
As the pain pressed heavier and heavier on his chest, Carlisle slowly rose from his seat.
In his pale, trembling hand was a small white case.
Time passed, as it always did—quiet and indifferent, like a river flowing through a still valley.
It had been several days since Aileen ordered Hilter to send the annulment papers to Avergue.
But no reply had come.
She didn’t know whether Carlisle had been caught off guard, surprised that she had gone through with it…
Or maybe he was simply reviewing the list of compensation.
Either way, silence was the only answer.
After hearing that Aileen had sent the annulment papers, the Duke and Duchess visited her daily, asking if there had been any response.
Each time, Aileen could only shake her head.
—“We pushed you to go through with it, so why the hell hasn’t that bastard said a word?!”
The Duke’s furious voice shook the walls every time the subject came up.
—“It seems he still hasn’t come to his senses,”
the Duchess would remark coldly, her voice calm but her expression frozen like a winter frost.
—“Hey, Aileen. Now you understand how dangerous it is to stamp something without thinking, right? Don’t go signing documents so easily next time.”
Ashite offered his sister a warm but smug warning, trying to lighten the mood with a teasing scolding.
—“I already knew that. And now I really know. So maybe drop it?”
Aileen narrowed her eyes at him, clearly annoyed, and Ashite quickly shut his mouth.
Still, both of them knew it was just half-serious banter. The atmosphere eased naturally.
There was a reason Ashite had brought it up, though.
It wasn’t just a breakup. And it wasn’t just a simple engagement.
Aileen and Carlisle hadn’t gone through an ordinary betrothal.
In the Diert Empire, there were two types of engagements.
The first was informal—a dinner with both families, a brief ceremony, and a public declaration. Most nobles chose this method.
The second was formal—where both parties signed official documents and submitted them to the Imperial Palace, legally declaring their intent to marry.
This option was rare, chosen only when a binding agreement was absolutely necessary—often for political reasons.
Sometimes, young lovers dreaming of a fairy-tale romance would take the second route, believing it to be more meaningful.
But most avoided it.
After all, even political alliances between noble houses were fickle. Ties and terms could change overnight. The informal method was safer.
And yet, Aileen and Carlisle had chosen the second.
Not because of political gain.
Simply because they loved each other.
And it wasn’t a fleeting impulse.
They had both thought long and hard before making that decision.
“How pointless it all seems now…”
Aileen murmured as she glanced out the window just before leaving for the palace.
The garden, once lush with green, was now slowly turning red with autumn.
