The apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree; Samuel had just polished it to look nicer. If Heena simply disappeared into the night, Samuel wouldn’t just sit back and mourn her absence. He would turn the entire empire upside down to hunt her down. He was too smart, too resourceful, and entirely too fixated on her.

She needed a flawless exit strategy. Something that wouldn’t just get her outside the iron gates, but would definitively ensure Samuel never came looking for her. And with only thirteen days left on the clock before the funeral concluded, she had to figure it out fast.

’’[Thirty Days Later]’’

Well, everything happened remarkably fast after the funeral.

Because, well, it just did. That’s how these things worked when someone like Samuel was orchestrating events with ruthless efficiency.

The ceremony concluded within the traditional thirty-day mourning period.

Maya was, of course, formally apprehended and charged with the murder of her husband through slow poisoning.

And in this society, in this era, women simply didn’t have substantial social standing or legal rights.

With Maya’s own birth family refusing to support her—actively stepping back and disavowing any connection—of course there was no one to help her, no one to advocate on her behalf, no resources for a proper legal defense.

The verdict was swift and merciless:

Maya was sentenced to spend the remainder of her life as a nun in a remote mountain temple.

Permanent exile. Permanent isolation. Permanent poverty and hardship.

Honestly, it wasn’t even shocking. This was actually a relatively ’lenient’ punishment by the standards of the era.

Some families dealt with murderous daughters-in-law far more harshly. Some mothers-in-law would even throw newly widowed daughters-in-law into their dead husband’s graves and bury them alive as "companionship for the afterlife."

So being sent to a temple was practically merciful in comparison.

But of course, for Maya specifically—someone who had spent her entire youth as a pampered rich merchant’s daughter, then most of her adult life as a beloved wife spoiled by her much older husband—

Surviving in a harsh temple environment with minimal food, constant manual labor, strict religious discipline, and absolute poverty was going to be absolutely brutal.

A different kind of death. Slower. More painful.

Perfect, really.

.

.

.

Heena and Samuel were having dinner together in their private quarters.

It was already the fourteenth day since the old Master had been buried.

Samuel was smiling as he looked at Heena across the table, talking cheerfully about various plans:

"I’ve been thinking we should completely renovate Father’s old quarters. Turn them into something more useful—maybe a proper library? Or additional guest rooms?"

He poured tea for both of them.

"And the main courtyard needs better landscaping. Those old pine trees are half-dead anyway. We could plant something more attractive—"

He was deliberately keeping the conversation light, discussing mundane household improvements and future plans.

But Heena was eating calmly, mechanically, without responding to any of his suggestions.

Just... quiet.

Samuel could FEEL it—that something was wrong, that something heavy was hanging in the air between them.

But he kept trying to change the subject, kept talking, kept smiling, kept acting cheerful and optimistic about their future together.

As if forcing normalcy would make the looming conversation disappear.

Then Heena calmly set down her chopsticks.

She looked directly at Samuel and said quietly:

"I need to talk to you about something."

For just a second—barely a heartbeat—Samuel’s chopsticks trembled in his hand.

He set them down carefully and said, trying to maintain his smile:

"We should talk after finishing the meal. No need to discuss serious matters on an empty stomach—" 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝙚𝙬𝓮𝙗𝒏𝙤𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝓶

"My lord."

Two words. Just two simple words.

But they froze Samuel completely.

Because Heena hadn’t called him "my lord" in a very, very long time.

Not since their relationship had shifted from strategic partnership to something more intimate.

She’d been calling him "husband" or "Samuel" or occasionally teasing nicknames.

But never the formal, distant "my lord."

Samuel slowly put down his chopsticks, setting them precisely parallel to the edge of his bowl.

Then he looked up, his expression carefully neutral, bracing himself.

Heena met his eyes directly and said clearly:

"Now that the old Master is dead and Maya is permanently removed from the situation, I would like to leave this household."

The words fell into the space between them like stones into still water.

Samuel’s face went completely blank.

Not angry. Not sad. Just... empty.

Like he’d been expecting this but had been desperately hoping it wouldn’t actually happen.

"Leave," he repeated, his voice flat. "You want to leave."

"Yes," Heena confirmed.

Samuel was quiet for a long moment, his hands resting on the table, completely still.

Then he said, still in that carefully controlled tone:

"May I ask why? Have I... have I done something wrong? Failed to provide for you adequately? Been neglectful in some way?"

"No," Heena said immediately. "You’ve been... you’ve been an excellent husband. Better than I had any right to expect."

"Then why?" Samuel asked, and there was finally a crack in his composure—a thread of genuine pain underlying the question.

Heena took a breath.

"Because I was never meant to stay here permanently," she said quietly. "Our marriage was always meant to be temporary. A strategic alliance to deal with Maya and secure your inheritance."

"That was the BEGINNING," Samuel said, his voice rising slightly. "But things changed. WE changed. This became real—"

"For you, perhaps," Heena interrupted gently. "But I always knew I would have to leave eventually."

Samuel stared at her, his expression shifting from blank to something more desperate.

"Why?" he asked again. "Just tell me WHY. If it’s not because I’ve failed you, if it’s not because you’re unhappy here, then what possible reason—"

"Because I have other obligations," Heena said. "Things I cannot explain fully. But I need to return to... to my family. To my birthplace."

Samuel’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"Your family," he repeated slowly. "The family you claimed not to remember? The background you’ve been deliberately mysterious about since we met?"

Heena said nothing, which was answer enough.

Samuel stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor.

He began pacing, running his hands through his hair in agitation.

"So you’re just going to leave," he said. "After everything. After—" He gestured vaguely between them. "After THIS. After what we’ve built together."

"I’m sorry," Heena said quietly.

"Sorry," Samuel laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You’re SORRY."

He turned to face her directly.

"I defended you. Protected you. Gave you everything I had. And you’re just going to walk away because of some mysterious ’obligations’ you won’t even explain?"

"Yes," Heena said, because what else could she say?

Samuel looked at her for a long moment, his expression cycling through hurt, anger, betrayal, and finally settling on something like resigned acceptance.

"When?" he asked quietly.

"Soon," Heena replied. "Within the week."

Samuel closed his eyes briefly, processing that.

Then he said, his voice carefully controlled again:

"And there’s nothing I can say to change your mind? Nothing I can do to make you stay?"

Heena felt her heart clench painfully.

"No," she said softly. "I’m sorry. But no."

Samuel nodded slowly, like he’d expected that answer.

"I see."