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06. My husband is here?

I hadn’t noticed the meaning before, not in this life nor the previous one, but Sebastian is dressed in an extremely elegant white suit tonight. At first glance, anyone would mistake the younger brother for the groom, not the one who actually said ‘I do’ at the altar.

“Seb,” I offer a gentle smile, watching as he stops between Christopher and me.

“Grandpa is looking for you. He was worried when you dashed off,” Sebastian says, focusing entirely on me, his back to Christopher, whose expression slowly turns stiff again. “Are you okay?”

“He should be worried about himself
” I whisper, sad, and timidly raise my eyes to find Sebastian’s gentle brown ones, lighter than his brother’s
 and I remember why there was a time I found comfort in him... After all, the way Sebastian looks at me, no one has ever looked — especially not Christopher.

There was a time when I asked God if I had married the wrong man, especially when I realized that I could never win my husband’s love. But that was never fair to either of us. Sebastian allowed himself to be used, knowing it was just an affair from the start. But it poisoned me. I became as corrupted as Christopher, and I hated myself for it. I hated myself more than anything.

“Let’s head back to the party,” Sebastian suggests, putting an arm around my lower back without glancing at his brother.

I sigh and nod, ready to follow him back to that hellish gathering and finally end this terrible day, but as we step away, Christopher’s calm yet surprisingly firm voice stops us
 “Don’t you think you’re being rude, little brother?”

Sebastian slightly turns toward his brother, a sarcastic smile playing on his lips, “Excuse me?”

“You’re interrupting my conversation with Charlotte.” Christopher crosses his arms, his eyes darkening. “Mother would be mortified to see you behaving so rudely.”

“I think we’re past worrying about Mother’s lectures
 after all, she no longer can’t give them,” Sebastian retorts, shrugging as his hand lightly slides over my waist. This subtle movement catches Christopher’s eye, his gaze lingering on the fingers that don’t touch my skin.

“See? It’s not because you’re two years younger that you’re not involved in business and politics, Seb
 it’s because you haven’t learned the basics of etiquette. Look at that suit. Do you really think white is a good choice for your older brother’s wedding? You know our family’s tradition — white, it’s the groom’s color.” Despite Christopher’s tone staying calm and polished, the disdain is palpable.

Sebastian smirks maliciously — a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Interesting, Christopher. You’re right. White is the color for the groom
 at least, it should be. But many things are switched tonight, don’t you think?”

Christopher doesn’t seem very troubled by his younger brother’s words, merely flickering a cynical smile. “Certainly, it’s not a concern of yours, Sebastian.”

I massage the top of my nose. That’s a dynamic I haven’t witnessed in a very long time. Sebastian has always seen his older brother as a rival, but Christopher, perhaps out of arrogance or simply because he knew he would never be overtaken, never cared for Sebastian’s words.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t concern myself with your affairs... But I’m concerned, big brother
 you have an appointment now, don’t you?” Sebastian pulls me slightly against him, staking a claim Christopher clearly cares little about. “Enjoy yourself... and don’t worry, Charlotte is in good hands.”

Christopher’s eyes sharpen
 and for the first time, something provokes his usually impassive expression.

Tired of being caught between these Houghton brothers, a role I’ve played far too long, I pull away from Sebastian’s grasp, causing him to look at me with a mix of surprise and hurt. Despite not wanting to cause sorrow to someone who has only ever loved me, I need to keep my distance; nothing good comes from involving with the Houghton brothers.

Fortunately, in six months, all of this will be over.

“I’ll meet with Grandpa Marshall to ensure he knows I’m alright, then I’ll leave,” I say with a polished smile and glance at Christopher, who looks intrigued.

Without another word, I hold up the heavy skirt of my dress and head back, ignoring Sebastian’s call, “Lotte, wait!”

I return to the ballroom, each step echoing on the cold marble floor. I feel all of the eyes on me as if they’re pricking me with needles. It feels like I’m carrying the world on my shoulders, a burden made of everyone’s expectations and judgments.

The orchestra’s music floats through the air, a sweet counter to my discomfort. The laughter and conversations seem to come from another world, one I no longer fit into. The chandeliers’ lights sparkle on jewels and glasses, creating tiny rainbows on the walls, but the beauty of this place no longer reaches me.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside me. With each step toward the center of the ballroom, the feeling of being watched intensifies. I’m sure rumors of my sudden return from the garden are already spreading.

I hear a murmur and turn to see Christopher and Sebastian coming into the ballroom together, pretending that the brief argument didn’t just happen. They both exude an aura of authority that quickly draws a crowd of aristocrats seeking their attention.

Christopher’s eyes briefly meet with mine, and a million unspoken things pass between us in a heavy silence. He looks away first, returning his attention to the men around him, keeping his usual expression.

I swallow hard, bitterness in my throat, while Sebastian gives me an apologetic smile I can’t return.

I grab a glass of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray and down it in one go, feeling the bubbly liquid slide down my throat. The room is full of forced laughter and superficial conversations, and I can barely hide my disinterest.

Hah... I still feel thirsty.

Before the waiter moves away with the tray full of glasses, I stop him and ask quickly, “Do you have anything stronger?”

“Yes, Mrs. Houghton. We have whiskey, vodka, tequila, and rum. Which do you prefer?” he says with his best professional smile.

“Bring me whiskey. And vodka.” I don’t blink as I ask, with a steady tone.

He gives me a curious look, his eyes lingering on my face for a moment longer than necessary. But he doesn’t say a word, keeping his professional demeanor as he walks away with impressive speed. It doesn’t take long before he returns with the tray, now holding the two drinks I asked for.

“Thank you,” I don’t wait for him to offer them; I just grab them with eager hands and go down the first.

The whiskey burns as it goes down, a warm sensation spreading through my chest. The vodka follows, cooling my throat, contrasting with the heat already spreading through my body.

I take a deep breath, feeling the alcohol start to take effect, while I watch my guests wearing masks around me. The fake smiles and shallow conversations seem even more irritating now. The waiter resumes circulating through the party, offering champagne, but I notice he keeps giving me curious looks... after all, why is the bride in such a hurry to get drunk? Whatever.

I ignore his gaze, focusing on anything that can distract me. With a heavy sigh, I approach a group of women who are more interested in gossip than anything else.

“Charlotte, good to see you back. We’ve been discussing the latest fashion trends from Paris
 we need your opinion!” The young woman’s smile doesn’t reach her eyes, leaving me feeling empty even though I force a smile onto my lips, wishing this night would end soon.


Finally, after a few more hours of sore feet and pinched toes, the party comes to an end. Now, in my room alone, still in my heavy dress, I remember how I waited all night for Christopher in his room. Years have passed, but the taste in my mouth is still bitter.

The large bed with soft sheets seems to tempt me, an invitation to shed this fatigue, but a chill runs down my spine, and a fear settles in my chest.

Just as I’m about to turn around to look for Elodie, the door opens, startling me — and the surprise that overtakes me is stronger than a punch in my stomach, stealing my breath away


Because, contrary to my memories from my first life, my husband is here.

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