Chapter 33

Cassian’s pov

That night, I tried to distract myself.

Sisi insisted on building a pillow fort, and I let her

even though it meant dismantling half the sitting room furniture.

But I was still a pretty decent way of distracting myself from the mid life crisis going on in my head.

She laughed as I crawled in after her, her little arms flinging plushies around like it was a war zone.

“Mommy always makes the roof higher,” she said. “You’re too slow.”

“I’m structurally sound,” I muttered.

Sisi giggled. “You’re a big slow dragon.”

I growled,

It was dramatic enough to match with my tickles.

She shrieked with laughter and buried her face in a cushion.

But even as she laughed—Selena didn’t come.

Even as Didi filled the room with so much laughter and pleas, there wasn’t still any sign of her.

Eventually, I pulled Sisi into my lap and just held her. She settled her cheek against my chest and yawned.

“Mommy’s still not smiling,” she mumbled sleepily.

“I know, baby.”

“Did you do something bad?”

I stiffened. “Why would you say that?”

“Because Mommy only looks like that when people break her.”

Gods.

It felt like being stabbed with something dull and slow.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I hope not.”

Sisi tilted her head back to look at me. “You should ask her.”

“I did.”

“Ask again.”

I kissed the top of her head. “I will.”

But even as I said it, I wasn’t sure how.

Because this wasn’t the version of her I knew how to fight.

This wasn’t rage. Or annoyance. Or frustration.

This was pain.

Quiet, cold pain.

And it made me feel more helpless than anything else ever had.

When Sisi was finally asleep, I stayed by the fire.

Just watching the flames eat the logs like they had all the time in the world.

I tried to piece it together—every moment from the last Four days.

What had shifted?

What had gone wrong?

We’d been laughing. Eating together. Making flower crowns. She’d even let me carry her basket, for crying out loud.

And then, she disappeared into the palace library.

When she came back, she was gone.

My mind wouldn’t stop replaying it. That moment she brushed past me. The tears in her eyes. The way her lips had trembled, like there were words she was too afraid to speak.

And that look.

That haunted, broken look.

I’d seen it once before.

On my own face. After I’d buried my father.

At some point, I stood. Moved down the hallway like a man possessed.

I stopped in front of the general study.

That was where rhe maids said she was.

I could see the reflection of the lamp from here

I didn’t knock.

Didn’t dare.

I just stood there, hand hovering near the handle.

Trying to find the strength to walk in. Or the courage to walk away.

In the end, I did neither.

I leaned against the wall.

And waited.

I don’t know how long I stood there.

Maybe minutes.

Maybe longer.

Time didn’t work the same when I was waiting for her.

The door didn’t open. I didn’t knock. My wolf paced just beneath my skin, agitated, restless. Growling low with every second that passed. He didn’t like being this close and unwelcome. And neither did I.

At last, I pushed away from the wall. Quiet steps back down the corridor. Back toward silence.

But I didn’t go to my room.

I ended up in the garden instead.

Midnight came woth the chilly cold air

The kind that seeped into your liver and threatened to freeze them.

I could see the silent fountain from the window here.

This was her favorite part of the palace grounds.

I’d found her here once. Before all this. Before she’d stopped speaking to me with anything but her eyes.

She’d been barefoot, crouched near the lilies, whispering something to Sisi about fairy circles and enchanted petals. I’d stood at a distance back then too, watching. Wanting. Never sure if I deserved to step closer.

Now I wasn’t sure if I ever would again.

I sat on the edge of the fountain. Let the water lap quietly behind me.

Let the silence gnaw.

It was my own fault, wasn’t it?

Somewhere along the line, I’d done something. Said something. Forgotten something.

And she’d shut the door without a single word.

But what was I supposed to do with that?

My fists clenched.

I didn’t care about being rejected. I didn’t care if she screamed, if she slapped me, if she pushed me down the stairs. I could take pain.

But I couldn’t take that look again.

That haunted, distant expression like I reminded her of something she’d spent years trying to forget.

And that’s what terrified me the most.

Not that I’d done something wrong.

But that I reminded her of someone else who had.

**

Morning came too early.

I hadn’t slept. Barely moved.

I must’ve dozed off sitting upright because when I opened my eyes, the fountain water was still, the sky was just turning gold, and my back ached like hell.

I stood with a groan and turned toward the palace.

That’s when I smelled it.

Warm spices. Butter. Something sweet.

Breakfast?

That was new.

More like I had never paid attention this early in the morning before

Same way I hadn’t taken note of when she left the study.

I followed the scent through the side hall and into the private dining chamber, expecting maybe the kitchen had started early.

But it wasn’t the staff.

It was her.

Selena.

She was in the corner near the hearth, stirring something in a pot with her back to me. Her hair was damp

like she’d just come from the bath and pinned loosely at the nape of her neck. She wasn’t humming. Wasn’t moving with joy.

But she was there.

Present.

Moving.

There was a stack of pancakes already plated beside her. Sisi’s favorite kind

the ones with cinnamon swirls.

I know, Sisi had way too many favourites . Even I was beginning to lose count

But Selena managed to keep them glued to her brain.

And beside those, three cups of freshly brewed tea. Set perfectly in a line.

I stepped closer, cautious.

“Need help with anything?”

Her shoulders tensed. Just for a breath.

Then, calmly, she said, “It’s almost done.”

No smile.

No greeting.

But not avoidance either.

Progress.

“You are quite the early bird,” I said, trying to keep my voice light.

She turned just slightly. Her profile caught the sunlight. Her jaw was tense.

“. Not often. But Sisi likes my pancakes.”

“She’ll love them.”

That got a whisper of a smile. Not at me. Just… in general.

It was enough.

I watched her for a beat longer, wanting to say something—anything—that might bridge the distance.

But she turned her back before I could.

She was already reaching for a cloth to cover the teapot.

I got the message.

**

Breakfast was quiet.

Again

Sisi, of course, did most of the talking.

“This one looks like a moon!” she pointed at her pancake with syrupy fingers. “And this one’s a cloud. Mommy makes better pancakes than Chef Gilda.”

“Don’t let Gilda hear that,” I said, trying to keep the mood light.

Selena said nothing.

Just sipped her tea slowly.

She didn’t look at me.

Didn’t speak unless spoken to.

But her eyes drifted to Sisi often, and her fingers occasionally brushed the back of her daughter’s hand.

She was still in there. Somewhere beneath whatever had shut her down.

I just didn’t know how to reach her anymore.

**

We went to the orchard together.

Just me and Sisi.

And even though my thoughts kept drifting—toward the curve of Selena’s shoulder, the tension in her voice, the way she hadn’t once looked at me directly—I tried to stay present.

Tried to give Sisi the version of me she deserved.

Not the distracted one.

Not the one haunted by things he couldn’t name.

We picked apples until her arms were full, and I let her sit on my shoulders to reach the tallest ones.

She giggled the whole time.

At one point, she leaned forward and whispered, “You’re smiling more today.”

I blinked. “Am I?”

“Mm-hmm. You smiled like this at Mommy once. When you were painting rocks.”

My chest tightened.

“Do you think Mommy’s mad at me?” she asked suddenly.

I stopped walking. “What?”

“She’s sad again. Like before.”

I crouched and took her hand. “No, baby. She’s not mad at you. She loves you more than anything.”

“Then why is she so quiet?”

I hesitated. “Sometimes grown-ups… carry things they don’t know how to talk about.”

Sisi tilted her head. “Like heavy baskets?”

“Exactly.”

“Can we help her carry it?”

I smiled faintly. “We can try.”

I didn’t see her again until just before dusk.

Sisi had fallen asleep in the garden hammock, arms curled around a storybook she barely made it halfway through.

And I carried her inside in slow, careful steps—trying not to wake her. She stirred once. Mumbled something about dragons and pancakes. Then drifted again.

I found Selena in the sunroom.

Alone.

She was seated by the long window, her legs tucked beneath her, a book open but untouched in her lap. Her eyes weren’t on the pages.

They were on the sky.

The orange light poured across her skin, softening every edge. And yet, she still looked… unreachable.

Like a statue carved from grief.

I cleared my throat gently. “She’s asleep.”

No answer.

I stepped closer. “In the hammock, like she always wanted. Didn’t even get past chapter two.”

She nodded once. Didn’t look at me.

That was it.

That was the last thread.

I’d held back all day. Pretended I didn’t notice the tension in her shoulders, the way she flinched when our hands brushed, the careful way she avoided even standing too close.

But I couldn’t keep pretending.

Not when every part of me was screaming.

“Selena.”

Still no answer.

I took a step closer, standing just in front of her. “Look at me.”

She blinked—slow, like waking from a faraway dream.

And finally, she looked up.

Her eyes were guarded. Distant.

But they still gutted me.

“What’s going on?” I asked, voice low. “What changed?”

“Nothing.”

That word

It was quiet and flat and somehow managed to shatter something in me.

“Don’t lie to me.”

Her fingers tightened around the edge of the book. “I’m not.”

“You’ve been silent all day,” I snapped. “You haven’t looked at me. You won’t talk to me unless it’s about Sisi. Did I do something? Say something—?”

“No,” she interrupted quickly. Too quickly.

I stepped back, my fists clenching. “Then what the hell is this?”

“Cassian, please,” she whispered. “Just… leave it alone.”

“I can’t,” I growled, pacing. “I’ve tried to give you space. I’ve tried to respect whatever you’re going through, but you won’t even let me in. You act like I don’t exist. Like I’m some shadow you have to tolerate for Sisi’s sake.”

She didn’t deny it.

Didn’t say a damn thing.

And somehow that was worse.

“I’m not asking for all the attention in the world,” I muttered, running my hands through my hair

I wasn’t even sure what I was doing

Or why I was being this open woth her

But I wanted to

Because it felt right. “I know I don’t deserve that. I know I’m not—whatever you wanted. Whatever you had. But don’t stand there and pretend like I’m not trying.”

“You are,” she said quietly. “You are trying.”

“Then why do you keep shutting me out?”

Her throat worked, her lips parted.

But nothing came.

Not a word. Not a breath.

Just silence.

And her eyes—those haunted, red-rimmed eyes—held something that twisted my gut.

Not hate.

Not even anger.

Just… pain.

“You know what?” I muttered, dragging a hand through my hair. “Forget it. I don’t need an explanation. You’ve made it clear you want distance.”

I turned away. Just enough to breathe.

Just enough to not fall apart in front of her.

But before I could step out, I heard her whisper.

“I’m scared.”

The words hit me like a blade to the chest.

I froze.

Turned slowly.

She was still in the same position, only now—her gaze had dropped to her lap. Her hands trembled slightly over the book’s cover.

I stepped back toward her, slow and careful.

“Scared of what?”

She didn’t answer.

So I crouched in front of her, trying to see her face. “Selena.”

Finally, her eyes met mine again.

And this time, I saw it.

A storm of emotions. Guilt. Confusion. Something that looked like betrayal, but not aimed at me.

And under all of it—longing.

A need she didn’t want to admit.

I swallowed hard. “I don’t want to break you.”

“You might not mean to,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean you won’t.”

Her voice cracked.

And that did something to me.

I didn’t reach for her. Didn’t push. I just let the silence stretch.

Let her speak if she wanted.

She didn’t.

Not another word.

And after a long beat, she stood—slow, graceful.

And walked right past me.

Like the conversation never happened.

Like I didn’t exist.

And gods help me… I let her go.

Because if I touched her, even once…

I wouldn’t be able to stop.

Not now.

Not when everything in me was begging to understand why she looked at me like I’d already ruined her.