When dinner finally came to an end, Rihaan rose from his chair.

At last, he could escape the suffocating atmosphere and return to the solitude of his room. He still hadn’t recovered from the betrayal—nor did he believe he ever truly would. Trust, once broken, was not easily restored. Perhaps he would never be able to place it in another person again.

"Let me escort you," Soren said, standing as well, his gaze flicking briefly toward his parents.

"No, I can—"

Soren turned fully toward him, his expression firm, silently insisting on seeing him back to his room.

Although the alpha found it awkward, he couldn’t refuse—not twice—especially with Soren’s parents right there, glaring at him as though he had cast black magic on their beloved son.

As they walked down the corridor, Soren spoke first.

"Does your family know you’re here, by the way? I forgot to ask last night, considering the state you arrived in..."

Rihaan’s steps halted, standing at the same spot. Soren, who had been looking at him, stopped beside him, waiting for his answer.

"I used my original form to get here," Rihaan replied calmly. "So it didn’t take long."

Soren turned toward him, gaze narrowing.

"You mean... you came here as a—"

"Yes. As a tiger."

Soren slammed his palm against his forehead, not even attempting subtlety.

"That means you scared some of my people," he said, glaring at the alpha, clearly displeased by the method.

"I couldn’t come in my human form," Rihaan muttered. "Not after what I did..." His voice dropped, head lowering in shame.

"So you know you were wrong," Soren said, folding his arms and exhaling sharply.

"Loving isn’t wrong," he continued, more evenly. "But being blinded by love is."

"I get it, I get it. You’re the lord of love," Rihaan said dramatically, rolling his eyes to the side.

"I am," Soren replied without hesitation.

Rihaan met his gaze and fell silent.

He knew Soren possessed an ability that allowed him to see whom a person loved—but he didn’t know how it worked, or how much it revealed.

"I was certain you wouldn’t refuse to marry me," Soren continued. "After all, you don’t hate me. Right?"

Rihaan stiffened instantly, caught off guard.

"W-What?" He blinked, genuinely shocked.

"My powers showed that you liked me," Soren said calmly. "Although your love for your omega was a deep red colour. That was why I suggested you bring him here in the first place. It isn’t unusual for political marriages to involve affairs—or other lovers. However—"

"Y-Your Highness," Rihaan interrupted, stepping back, hands raised as though he’d been accused of a crime, "I beg your pardon, but... what are you saying?"

He wasn’t guilty of such accusations.

At least—he hoped he wasn’t.

Soren bit the inside of his cheek. Perhaps he shouldn’t have said all those things he had kept hidden until now. He rarely spoke of his powers so openly—never with someone who wasn’t family. He didn’t know what had possessed him to blurt it all out, and now, of all times.

"Don’t mind me," he muttered, quickening his pace. "Just... not hating someone isn’t enough of a reason to love them."

Rihaan remained where he was, frozen.

He didn’t know what to do—or what to think.

He didn’t hate Soren. That much was true. He never had. There had been misunderstandings, yes, and the arranged marriage had unsettled him, leaving him frustrated with Soren’s rigid, duty-bound nature.

But still...

Why did Soren think Rihaan would want to marry him?

"Prince Rihaan?" Soren called, turning back when he realized the man was neither beside nor behind him.

Rihaan flinched, disguising it with a light cough.

"Yes," he replied, his voice echoing through the vast palace hallway.

The walk to his room felt strangely long, his steps heavier than before. There was an unfamiliar sensation tightening in his chest—one he couldn’t quite name, no matter how he tried.

When they finally arrived, Rihaan opened the door to his room. Just as he was about to step inside, he recalled how the man behind him had stood up for him throughout the day—against his own father, a man Soren never defied. All of it, done for him.

It made his heart ache in a way he couldn’t explain. Not even to himself.

He turned back and bowed slightly.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Soren tilted his head, puzzled.

"What for?"

"For... letting me stay here. For helping me last night, and just... being there for me," Rihaan said, lowering his gaze.

The man he had hurt so deeply was foolishly kind—kind to the point that regret clawed at Rihaan’s chest.

He sucked in a sharp breath at his own thoughts.

No.

Not because he hadn’t agreed to the engagement. But because Soren had been hurt all the same, even if he never said it aloud.

After all, Soren had always been the type to bottle up his feelings.

The red-haired omega let out a soft chuckle and shook his head.

"Oh, come on. We are friends," he said with a gentle smile, his amber gaze softening. "Get some rest. It’s been a long day."

With that, Soren turned on his heel and walked away.

Rihaan remained at the threshold, staring after the figure as it disappeared into the hallway—long after he should have stepped inside.

Only when Soren was completely out of sight did he close the door behind him.

He exhaled sharply, the emptiness of the large room pressing in. It felt as if the walls themselves were closing in, suffocating him.

Soren’s words echoed relentlessly in his mind.

"My powers showed that you liked me."

I... Do I like him?...

The thought hit him like a physical blow. How could it be? He had never thought of Soren that way. And yet, a memory—so vivid it burned—flashed before his eyes: Soren on their engagement day, calm, unwavering, steadfast.

He couldn’t deny it. Not even to himself.

"Fuck," he cursed, pressing his face into his hands, shaking his head. "No, no. This can’t be!"

It couldn’t.

He couldn’t like Soren—not when he had deliberately ended any chance they might have had. Not when he had hurt him so deeply, so irrevocably.

And yet... the ache in his chest refused to let him lie, even to himself.

Maybe his feelings for Arav had already been fading at the time. He tried to tell himself it was loyalty—he couldn’t, shouldn’t even think of anyone else. But now, his own actions had caused this unbearable pain, leaving him no peace.

He told himself he hated Arav, yet the wound still throbbed. Even a loveless relationship could hurt when someone you trusted betrayed you.

But deep down, he knew it wasn’t that simple.

This hurt—the ache, the guilt—it wasn’t just pain. It was shame, layered over regret and sorrow. And it was all his fault.