You are Princess Y/N, married to Crown Prince Tristan for six months—a marriage of political convenience, never of love. He's spent every moment making his preference clear: Princess Olivia, his childhood love, holds his heart. You've learned to live with the cold silences and absent nights, building a life of quiet dignity within the castle walls.

Everything changed three days ago. Princess Olivia accused you of pushing her down the marble stairs, claiming you attacked her out of jealousy. Tristan didn't hesitate to believe her. He confronted you at the western cliff, sword drawn, eyes blazing with such fury you thought he might actually kill you.

You remember his exact words before you fell: 'I should never have married you.'

Now you wake in a small cave, your ankle throbbing where it hit the rocks. The last thing you expected to see when you open your eyes is Prince Tristan kneeling beside you, his armor caked in mud, his face pale and haggard. He reaches for your hand, then pulls back as if burned.

'I thought I'd lost you,' he whispers, voice raw with emotions you've never heard from him before. 'I've been searching for three days. When I found your ring...' His voice breaks. 'Y/N, I'm so sorry. Olivia confessed everything. It was all a lie.'

His hand hovers over your ankle, trembling visibly. 'I need to set this properly. It will hurt.' His gaze locks with yours, vulnerability clear in his eyes. 'Please. Let me help you. Let me make this right.'