So the man who had always treated me with polite distance, never once stepping out of line, had long ago, behind my back, become completely devoted to another woman.

She led me into one of the tents.

"Oh, right—I'm Chloe Xyler. Just call me Chloe."

She poured me a cup of hot tea with warm enthusiasm.

I took a sip, my eyes sweeping across the inside of the tent.

Outside, the wind howled and snow lashed the ground. Inside, a brazier burned steadily, filling the space with a warmth that felt like spring.

A painting rested on the table. The figure in it was Chloe.

In the lower right corner, the signature read: "Liam Foster."

I stared at those two words like I could burn a hole right through them.

Ten years of marriage, and I had never known Liam could paint.

On the rare occasions I showed him my embroidery I'd stitched with care, he would only smile faintly.

"I'm a rough man. I don't understand these things. If you think it's good, Princess, then it must be good."

Chloe walked over, smiling as she said, "A few days ago, I begged Liam to teach me how to paint. I'm a slow learner—I just can't seem to get it right."

She rolled up the painting and slipped it into a paper tube by the desk. The tube was already stuffed full, big and small scrolls packed tightly together.

I took another sip of tea. It tasted bitter.

My gaze drifted lower, landing on the side of the bed, where a pair of training shoes sat.

But the size… those clearly belonged to a child.

My fingertips trembled. I was about to speak when a sharp, urgent cry of "Mom!" cut me off.

A young boy burst into the tent, sniffling, holding up an injured hand for her to see.

His skin was fair. And when he turned his head, his brows and eyes—so strikingly similar to Liam's—came into full view.

After bandaging his finger, Chloe gently patted his head.

"Please don't mind him. He's just like his father—always messing around with weapons and coming back covered in cuts. Before this, it was always his father who treated his wounds. I've never had to do it myself, so I was a little clumsy."

I steadied the teacup in my hands and said,

"Your husband seems very attentive to your son."

At the mention of her son, Chloe lit up, the words spilling out one after another.

"Yes, Liam actually loves children. On our wedding night, he even asked if I wanted one.

"After our son was born, he was the one who cared about every little thing—food, clothes, everything. Last year, our son said he wanted a particular candy, and Liam rode ten miles to the nearest town just to buy some.

"And the weapons our son plays with now—Liam had them specially made to fit a child's hands."

As she spoke, the boy nodded along eagerly.

"My dad is the best dad in the world!"

I looked at him, my throat tight like it was stuffed with cotton.

Ten years ago, when I first married Liam, I had wanted a child with him.

He had fallen silent for a long time before gently stroking my hair.

"These past few years, I've been fighting battles everywhere. If you were pregnant, I wouldn't be able to take care of you. Once the war ends, I'll ask the King to let me resign. Then we'll have a child—a beautiful one—and live peacefully as a family."

Ten years had passed.

The war had not ended.

But he had already fathered a child with another woman.

I couldn't help but ask, "How… old are you?"

The boy looked at me, his face bright and full of life.

When he smiled, a little dimple showed.

"I'm nine! Dad says I grow fast. I already look like I'm ten or eleven."

Ten years away from home—and a nine-year-old child waiting here.

So every solemn promise Liam had ever made to me… had been a lie.

I hid my trembling fingers under my sleeve and forced out a sigh.

"You and your son followed your husband to live in this northern land—it must have been hard on you."

But Chloe shook her head.

"I was born here in the north. It's not hardship for me. It's Liam—he's not suited to this climate, but he insists on staying here with us."

As I listened, a faint sense of dread crept into my chest.

The next moment, Chloe smiled and said, "Actually, the war here ended a long time ago. Liam stayed behind for our sake—he specifically asked to remain in the north.

"I heard he had to beg for a long time to convince the King. It really wasn't easy for him.

"He said once he finishes up some business with the court, our family will settle down in a nearby town… and never go back."

The teacup slipped from my hands and shattered on the ground. Shards of porcelain sliced into my skin.

Chloe let out a soft cry and quickly told her son to fetch some bandages.

"Are you alright?"

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.

Back then, after Liam suffered a defeat in battle, his reputation in the capital was completely destroyed. It was my father, the king, who trusted him—who overruled everyone else and saved his position.

At the time, kneeling before the throne, Liam had said, clear as day, "As long as the realm is not at peace, I will not ask to resign."

And now, while war still raged in other regions, he had already made his plans—abandoning his country, abandoning his wife, hiding at the frontier to live a carefree life with his new family.

My body began to shake. I couldn't tell if it was from heartbreak… or rage.

I pulled away from Chloe's hand and asked softly,

"How do you know what he says is true? I mean—the honors and rewards from the court are no small thing. How can you be so sure he'd give all that up for you?"

Chloe curved her lips into a calm smile.

"Because… Liam doesn't like being in the capital. He hates the scheming of court politics, the fake pleasantries between officials. And most of all… he hates Princess Grace."

I froze.

Chloe pursed her lips, clearly annoyed just mentioning that name.

"That Princess Grace is always sending Liam letters. He told me it's because she's been in love with him for years.

"But since she's a princess, he has no choice but to write back.

"Honestly, the main reason he wants to resign is to put some distance between himself and the princess. That way, he can avoid all that mess."

Mess.

I turned that word over in my mind, a vast absurdity swelling in my chest.

My thoughts drifted back fifteen years.

Back then, Liam was nothing more than a dependent at court.

With his parents stationed at the frontier, he was an easy target for the other noble kids—bullied, splashed with cold water, pelted with stones.

The first time I saw him was in the library. He'd been locked inside for three days and nights. He was starving, barely conscious. I quickly ordered my maid to bring food.

After he devoured it, stammering out what had happened, I slammed my hand on the table.

"From now on, you stay by my side. As long as I'm here, let's see who dares bully you again."

Liam knelt, trembling with fear—but from that day on, he never left me.

The peach pastries I loved. The butterflies I chased. Even the hairpin I paused to look at for just a moment—he would find a way to put all of them into my hands.

After one of his most successful battles, he returned in triumph. The first thing he did upon entering the palace was to ask my father to grant us marriage.

I had believed we loved each other—that everything had happened naturally, the way it was supposed to.

But in his eyes, all of it had been nothing more than unwelcome, unavoidable "mess".

My nails dug into my palms. I could barely keep the smile on my face.

So I stood up quickly, pleading exhaustion, and left the mother and son alone.

That night, separated by a thin curtain, I could hear Chloe whispering softly to her son.

I sat quietly for a while, then rose to get paper and a pen.

Word by word, I wrote down every one of Liam's crimes—falsifying military reports, delaying troop deployments, deceiving the throne—and secretly sent the letter out.

Watching the messenger disappear silently into the night, I lowered my gaze.

Since Liam had chosen to betray me, then he would pay the price.

That night, I lay in bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep.

Half-dreaming, half-awake, I thought I saw Liam standing in front of me.

He held Chloe and their son in his arms—the perfect happy family.

The moment he saw me, his face darkened.

"Princess, the truth is… I never loved you. All these years, I was only repaying the kindness you once showed me. Ten years have passed. That debt is paid. From today on, there's nothing between us."

I jolted awake.

Outside, the sun was already high in the sky.

Chloe lifted the tent flap with a smile.

"You're awake? Perfect timing. My husband just got back. I'll take you to meet him."

After dressing and washing up, I stepped out of the tent with her.

And there he was—Liam, whom I hadn't seen in ten years, standing just outside.

Hearing us, he turned with a smile.

"My lady, this guest you mentioned—who exactly is—"

His words died in his throat as his gaze met mine, cold as ice.

"Tell me," I said. "When you call someone 'my lady'… which one of us do you mean, husband?"