Realizing Zane might be too perfect.

Alessia felt empty, her shoulders slumped. Her eyes had bags.

The house around her felt less like a sanctuary and more like a battlefield. Every whispered rumor, every leaked story, every sideways glance carried the weight of the war she never wanted to fight.

She stopped and turned to face Zane. His eyes were steady, as always controlled, like a man who built walls around his heart to keep the world out.

But tonight, there was something else there. Exhaustion? Sadness? A flicker of doubt?

“This isn’t your fight,” she said quietly, voice barely above the steady tick of the grandfather clock.

“You can walk away. You don’t have to burn yourself down for me.”

Zane’s gaze sharpened. “Don’t insult me like that.”

Alessia swallowed hard, the lump rising in her throat heavier than usual. “I’m serious.”

He stepped closer, voice low. “I don’t get to walk away from you.”

She looked down, biting her lip. “I’m not the prize here. I’m the war.”

“And I’m the soldier,” he said simply.

The room was