Chapter 302: v3 - 3: the life she had chosen III

Chapter 302: v3 Chapter 3: the life she had chosen III

There had been a time when leaving the palace had never felt like an occasion at all.

When Marian and Adrian had married, the social season was still underway.

She had been Empress for only a matter of weeks, and everything had felt new.

She attended several of the remaining dinners, luncheons, balls, and receptions with genuine excitement.

People were eager to meet her.

They welcomed her.

They flattered her.

They wanted her approval.

Marian had enjoyed every bit of it.

Even when the subject of children came up, she had never found the questions particularly troublesome.

They were newly married.

Of course people were curious.

And Marian herself was hopeful.

She and Adrian had already begun trying from the very beginning of their marriage.

Surely, in time, it would happen.

So when someone asked whether there might soon be an addition to the Imperial family, Marian would simply smile.

"We are hopeful."

And she meant it.

There was no reason not to be.

The rest of that first year passed easily.

The remaining events of the season came and went, followed by the quieter months of winter, and then another season began.

By then, Marian had been married for nearly a year.

The questions had begun to come more often.

Still politely.

Still wrapped in pleasant conversation.

An elderly duchess might inquire about her health.

A lady might ask whether the Imperial nursery had been prepared.

Someone might remark that it would be wonderful to hear a child’s laughter in the palace.

Marian still smiled.

"We are hopeful."

But this time, the words carried a little more weight.

She had already been trying for months.

There was still no reason to panic.

Not yet.

There was time.

Still, Marian began paying closer attention.

She was the one who sought advice from the physicians.

She asked questions.

She learned about timing and began keeping track of the days considered most favorable.

At first, it was nothing more than a small adjustment to their routine.

Then it became something she thought about more often.

She would glance at the calendar.

Count the days.

Remember what she had been told.

And when the right time approached, she would become a little more attentive toward Adrian.

Sometimes she would seek him out while he was working.

Sometimes she would linger beside him longer than usual.

Sometimes she was simply more affectionate.

She never knew whether he understood exactly why.

He probably did.

Adrian noticed everything.

Then another month would pass.

And another.

A few days late could make her hopeful.

A week could make her wonder.

And then her period would arrive.

The disappointment was always there.

But Marian would tell herself there was still plenty of time.

She would simply try again.

By the following social season, however, the questions had changed.

They were no longer occasional.

They had become expected.

A luncheon.

A dinner.

A reception.

Eventually, someone would ask.

The Empire needed an heir.

Everyone knew it.

And everyone knew who was expected to provide one.

Marian began finding the questions increasingly difficult to tolerate.

Not because she was ashamed.

Not because she had stopped hoping.

But because she was already trying.

She did not need to be reminded of it every time she stepped into a drawing room.

And then there were the women.

Marian began noticing them more.

Young women presented at court.

Daughters of ambitious families.

Women who seemed particularly interested in Adrian.

They found reasons to approach him.

They lingered in conversation.

They sought his attention.

Some were subtle.

Others were not.

Marian understood perfectly well what they were thinking.

There was still no heir.

And where there was no heir, there were always people willing to imagine another future for the throne.

It unsettled her.

And Adrian did not always make matters easier.

Sometimes, he seemed to deliberately make her jealous.

At first, Marian did not understand it.

She would see him speaking to another woman and wonder whether he had noticed her.

Whether he found her attractive.

Whether there was something she was missing.

She would watch from across the room, growing increasingly irritated.

Sometimes she confronted him.

Sometimes she ignored him.

Sometimes she became genuinely angry.

There had even been occasions when her temper got the better of her in public, leaving her embarrassed afterward.

What made it worse was that Adrian sometimes seemed almost satisfied by her reaction.

It was infuriating.

There were nights when Marian cried because she could not understand why he would behave that way.

And Adrian, being Adrian, rarely explained himself.

He would listen.

Remain composed.

And say very little.

It went on for long enough that, during the third year of their marriage, Marian began to wonder whether she could continue living with it.

There were moments when she was so furious that she genuinely wanted to leave him.

Then, gradually, she began to notice something.

The pattern.

It happened too often.

Too deliberately.

And there was always something else.

Adrian’s eyes.

Whenever he spoke to another woman, his attention would eventually return to Marian.

He would look at her.

Watching.

Waiting.

As though he were more interested in her reaction than in the woman standing before him.

That was when Marian finally understood.

He was testing her.

Deliberately.

Provoking her simply to see whether she would react.

Once she recognized it, she began seeing the pattern everywhere.

The lingering glance.

The unnecessary conversation.

The slight pause when he knew she was watching.

Adrian was not genuinely interested in those women.

He was watching Marian.

Always Marian.

It was infuriating.

And even now, it still hurt when he deliberately provoked her.

It still made her angry.

But she no longer mistook his behavior for genuine interest.

Perhaps some part of Adrian had never entirely forgiven what had happened years ago.

Perhaps this was his petty way of making her feel a fraction of what he had once felt.

Marian could not say that he was right.

She certainly did not approve of it.

But she understood him better now.

And perhaps that was why she had become more patient with him.

She had hurt him once too.

She knew what it was like to choose someone else and leave him with the consequences.

So she could tolerate a little of his bitterness.

Not happily.

Not without complaint.

But she could live with it.

Their marriage was not perfect.

But it was happy.

She loved him.

He loved her.

And despite everything she wished he would change, Marian had never doubted that.

By their fourth year, she had stopped attending ordinary social functions whenever she could avoid them.

The questions had become exhausting.

The expectations were worse.

And the ambitious women watching Adrian irritated her more than she cared to admit.

So she simply stopped going whenever she could.

Adrian never pressured her.

If anything, he seemed perfectly content whenever she chose to remain at the palace.

And Marian was content with it too.

She had her books.

The gardens.

Her father.

The few friends she still saw.

And Adrian.

Her life had become smaller than she had once imagined.

But it was a life she had chosen.

A life she was happy to live.

There was only one thing missing.

A child.

And that absence, no matter how peaceful the rest of her life became, had never stopped mattering to her.

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Tbc