Valeria stumbled out of the room, her tears blurring her vision as she clutched the folds of her dress tightly, as if grounding herself from completely falling apart. The air in the corridor felt heavy, oppressive, and it pressed down on her as she walked aimlessly, trying to steady her uneven breaths.

She reached the end of the hallway and leaned against the cool stone wall, her sobs breaking free in quiet gasps. Each tear felt like a piece of her heart spilling out, but she didn’t bother wiping them away. The raw wound Markus had left with his words and actions was too fresh, too deep. “Why does he hate me so much? she thought miserably. Why won’t he let me in?”

Back in the room, Markus remained seated on the edge of the bed, his hands resting on his knees, his posture rigid. His chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, but his expression betrayed nothing of the turmoil simmering beneath his stoic façade. His jaw clenched as his gaze fell to the shattered porcelain and the mess of soup splattered on the wall and floor.

The silence around him was deafening, and the lingering scent of the soup—a gesture of care he had cruelly dismissed—gnawed at his thoughts. For a moment, his fist tightened as if fighting something within himself, but he quickly shook it off, pushing the feelings down.

Reaching for the phone on the bedside table, he picked it up and punched in a number he knew by heart. The sharp tone of the ringing filled the room, cutting through the suffocating quiet. 

After a few moments, the call connected, and a deep voice answered from the other end. “Markus uncle,” the man said, his tone calm but edged with curiosity. “This is unexpected.”

“I need you to come,” Markus said, his voice low but firm. “Soon.” The man on the other end paused, as though processing the urgency in Markus’s tone. “What’s happened?”

Markus exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll explain when you get here. Just… come. I can’t deal with this alone.” “Alright,” the man said after a moment, his tone laced with quiet assurance. “I’ll be there.”

Markus ended the call and set the phone down with more force than necessary. He leaned back against the headboard, closing his eyes briefly as he let out a slow breath.

The echo of Valeria’s voice, pleading for him to try, still lingered in his mind. Her teary eyes and trembling hands had stirred something in him—a flicker of guilt or hesitation he refused to acknowledge.

Shoving the thought away, he clenched his fists, his knuckles whitening. “It doesn’t matter.” he told himself. “I have to stay in control. I can’t let her—” But the sentence remained unfinished in his mind, as though even he wasn’t entirely sure what it was he feared.

Meanwhile, down the hallway, Valeria found herself standing in front of the large windows overlooking the garden. The moonlight bathed her tear-streaked face as she stared out into the night, her heart aching in a way she hadn’t thought possible.

She had come to this manor hoping for a new beginning, a chance to create a life filled with love and partnership. But Markus’s walls felt impenetrable, and she wondered how much more her heart could endure before it shattered completely.

Yet, even as despair threatened to consume her, a small, flickering ember of determination remained. “I’ll find a way.” she thought, though her resolve felt fragile in the face of his rejection. “I’ll find a way to reach him. I have to.”

Valeria wiped her tears hastily as she made her way down the corridor, but her red, swollen eyes were a testament to the turmoil within her. She didn’t notice Mrs. Stella standing near the grand staircase, observing her with a look of concern.

“Valeria?” Mrs. Stella called gently, her voice soft yet firm. Valeria froze, startled, and quickly turned her back to Mrs. Stella, attempting to compose herself. She took a deep breath, smoothing down her dress before turning to face her mother-in-law with a weak smile.

“Yes, Mrs. Stella?” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. Mrs. Stella stepped closer, her brows furrowed as she took in Valeria’s tear-streaked face. “You’ve been crying,” she said matter-of-factly.

“It’s nothing,” Valeria lied, her voice trembling. “I’m just tired. I think I’ll go to my room and rest.” Mrs. Stella’s expression softened, but her eyes glinted with quiet determination. She reached out and gently touched Valeria’s shoulder. “Rest, my dear,” she said kindly. “But don’t lose hope. Things will work out, I promise.”

Valeria gave a faint nod, her lips curving into a weak, grateful smile. “Thank you,” she murmured before continuing down the hall. Mrs. Stella watched her retreating figure for a moment, her jaw tightening as her expression turned steely. She straightened her shoulders and turned toward Markus’s room with purposeful strides.

Markus sat on the edge of the bed, his head resting in his hands as he stared at the floor. The broken vase and soup on the wall remained untouched, a chaotic reflection of the tension in the room.

The door opened without a knock, and Mrs. Stella entered, her heels clicking against the polished floor. Markus looked up, his irritation flaring at the intrusion. “Mother, I’m not in the mood,” he said curtly, leaning back against the headboard.

“Well, too bad,” Mrs. Stella shot back, her voice sharp and unyielding as she closed the door behind her. She crossed her arms and fixed her son with a piercing stare. “Because I’m not leaving until you hear what I have to say.”

Markus rolled his eyes, his frustration evident. “What now?” he muttered. Mrs. Stella took a step closer, her tone softening but no less firm. “I just saw Valeria,” she began. “She was crying, Markus. Crying because of you.”

Markus’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing, his gaze flickering away. “She is your wife,” Mrs. Stella continued, her voice steady. “Your legal wife. And whether you like it or not, it’s time you start treating her as such.”

“I didn’t ask for this marriage,” Markus retorted, his voice low and cold. “You arranged it. You brought her here.” He shouted. 

“I arranged it for your benefit,” Mrs. Stella shot back, her voice rising slightly. “Because I saw what you couldn’t—a woman who could stand by your side, support you, and bear your child. But you’re too stubborn to see it.”

Markus scoffed, his lips curling into a bitter smile. “Child? She’s nothing but a reminder of everything I didn’t want i never wanted one. It is the invasion of my privacy, mother!”

Mrs. Stella took another step forward, her gaze unwavering. “She’s more than that, Markus. She’s kind, patient, and trying her best to make this work. And you? You’re tearing her apart because you refuse to let go of your pride.”

Markus’s hands curled into fists, his jaw clenching. “She doesn’t belong here,” he said through gritted teeth. “She belongs exactly where she is,” Mrs. Stella countered firmly. “She’s your wife, Markus. And the sooner you accept that, the better it will be for both of you. Stop pushing her away. Stop punishing her for things that aren’t her fault.”

Markus stood abruptly, his height looming over his mother as his frustration boiled over. “You think this is that simple?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous. “You think I can just forget everything and pretend this is normal?”

“No, I don’t,” Mrs. Stella said, her voice softening. “But I do think you owe it to her—and to yourself—to try. Otherwise, you’re going to lose her. And if that happens, Markus, you’ll regret it more than you can imagine.”