Chapter 21
The Time to Grow Up

“I don’t know if I should be leaving you alone like this.”

Bill sighed, his face clouded with worry.

“Uncle, if you keep fussing, you really will miss your train.”

Layla chided him gently, urging him on. She was so composed, so steady—it made him proud, but at the same time, oddly reluctant to leave.

The day before, a letter of bereavement had arrived at the cabin. Bill’s elder brother had passed away. They hadn’t been close; in fact, they hadn’t spoken in years. Still, he was the last of Bill’s blood, and ignoring it wasn’t an option.

So Bill arranged for a short leave and decided to return to his hometown for a few days. That should have been simple enough, but the thought of leaving young Layla alone weighed on him like iron.

“Make sure you lock the doors. Even if it’s hot, keep the windows fastened.”

He repeated the same warnings he’d been giving since last night.

“The shotgun’s in my room, so—”

“I’ll lock all the doors and windows tight, then bring your shotgun to keep by my bed. And if anyone bad shows up, bang! I’ll shoot them.”

Layla recited his words smoothly, like a schoolchild repeating her lessons.

“I’ll eat well, sleep well, and take care of myself.”

It would only be three days at most, but Bill worried as if he were leaving her for months.

Though still uneasy, he finally forced himself to walk on. Layla went with him to see him off at the mansion gates.

“Layla… was there some trouble at that party?”

As they approached the grand building, Bill asked carefully.

“No. Nothing happened. It was fun. Really.”

“I see… it just seemed like you’ve been keeping your distance from Kyle ever since.”

“Me? From Kyle?”

Layla laughed, as though the idea were absurd.

“Of course not. We’ve just both been busy, that’s all.”

“So I can trust that?”

“Yes. Why would I lie about something like that?”

“True. It’s not as if you’ve got reason to be awkward with him. Then… if you’re scared being alone, maybe you could have Kyle—no. Forget I said that.”

Bill waved his hand firmly.

“That boy’s the most dangerous of all.”

“Uncle!”

“If he does come around, send him home before sundown. Don’t forget.”

“Stop with the nonsense and just go already.”

At the entrance, Layla patted his back affectionately, shooing him along.

He left only after repeating his cautions several more times, glancing back again and again as he disappeared down the plane-tree road.

Layla stayed until he was out of sight, waving brightly whenever he turned.

It was going to be a very long three days.

“Layla’s avoiding me.”

Kyle was certain of it now.

“It must be because of that night at the party.”

The reason wasn’t hard to guess.

“Don’t you think so too, Phoebe?”

He asked solemnly, but the pigeon perched on his window sill only pecked at oats, ignoring him. Talking to a bird made him feel foolish, and Kyle let out a heavy sigh.

Once again, Phoebe had delivered one of Layla’s disappointing notes. Bill was away visiting his hometown, and Layla would be at the library all day, so the cabin would be empty.

It was the same every day now. Excuses. Visiting friends. Errands in town. Orchard work. At first, he’d thought she was just trying to spare him wasted trips. But by now it was obvious: flimsy excuses to avoid him.

“I can’t blame her. I’d avoid me too.”

Kyle dug his hands into his hair, groaning.

He had boasted he’d be her partner, promised to protect her—and then left her alone. By the time he heard from a servant that Layla had already gone home, she was gone. He’d run out in a panic, but it was too late.

Why hadn’t he gone sooner? Why hadn’t he kept his word?

As Kyle paced the window restlessly, Phoebe fluttered away. Staring at the direction she had gone, he suddenly rushed out the door.

He hardly remembered mounting his bicycle or pedaling. Only Layla in his thoughts. Only the ache in his lungs. Only Layla again. By the time his chest felt ready to burst, he had reached the cabin at Arvis.

Laundry hung in the yard—white sheets and pillowcases, dripping fresh water. Beyond them, the silhouette of a slender figure moved.

Kyle’s heart eased with both relief and aching guilt. He pushed back his damp hair, and at that moment, Layla peeked from behind the sheets. Her green eyes widened when she saw him.

“…Kyle.”

Her voice, soft and uncertain, was so sweet it made him forget his embarrassment.

“I’m sorry.”

Kyle spoke at last, seated at the table, his tone like a confession. Layla, sitting across from him with her hands folded, lifted her head in surprise.

“I really am. It was my fault.”

“No, don’t. Please don’t say that.”

Flustered, she shook her head.

“I’m sorry. For lying.”

“It was because of me. Everything is my fault.”

“No. I’m not angry with you. Not even a little. I swear, Kyle.”

“Then is there another reason? For avoiding me? Something I don’t know?”

“Kyle… you’re like family to me. I really do care for you. That’s why… that’s why I think we need to take some distance now.”

She tried to smile, but the look on his face told her it hadn’t worked.

She wasn’t angry at him. That much was true. But that night at the mansion’s glittering party, Layla had seen it clearly. The line between them. A line she’d ignored until now, pretending friendship could erase it.

She had always known Kyle belonged to a world far above hers. But seeing it laid out before her—the gilded halls, the nobility he mingled with—made the truth undeniable.

Kyle Etman was no longer the boy she’d grown up with.

Why must children grow into adults?

That night, walking barefoot through the dark forest with her shoes in hand, Layla had turned the thought over and over. And she had decided. To accept time. To accept what came with it—even if it meant keeping her most precious friend by stepping back.

“You realize you’re talking nonsense, don’t you?”

Kyle’s voice was low, steady.

“No. I mean it.”

“You like me, but we should be apart?”

“That way, we can always stay good friends. Kyle, I don’t want to lose you.”

“And you think I do want to lose you?”

His eyes wavered, but his words were fierce.

“No. Layla, that’s impossible. I’ll never let us drift apart. Never.”

“Kyle…”

“We can’t. Not us.”

He slammed his fist down on the table, glass rattling.

You have to grow up, Kyle.

Layla kept the words inside, answering only with a soft smile.

It was time to grow up.

She swallowed the sharp words, and instead rose cheerfully.

“Let’s eat, Kyle.”

She tied on her apron with brisk hands.

“As an apology for lying, I’ll make us the most delicious lunch ever.”

“Matthias, isn’t it time you left the army and focused on family affairs?”

Riette tossed aside his newspaper and sprawled on the sofa, yawning. Across from him, Matthias sat in a wing chair, still dressed in jacket and tie despite the heat, reading calmly.

“A year or two in the Guard won’t hurt. It’s tradition.”

He turned a page lazily.

“True enough. The Duke of Herhardt tradition.”

Riette stretched, muttering.

“And Matthias von Herhardt will be the most perfect duke of them all.”

As he chuckled, a canary fluttered from its cage and landed on Matthias’s book.

Matthias watched the bird quietly, a faint smile softening his face. Riette, who had seen him slaughter birds without batting an eye, stared in disbelief.

“God help me, I hope that’s a hen, Matthias. Otherwise the picture’s downright grotesque.”

Matthias didn’t answer. He raised his hand, and the little bird rubbed its beak against his finger.

“Don’t you think so too, Claudine?”

Riette turned to the girl across the room. Claudine sat with her embroidery frame, but her gaze was fixed on Matthias and the bird. When their eyes met, she smiled faintly.

“Most songbirds are male, you know.”

“Ugh. Spare me. Let’s just pretend it’s female.”

Riette shuddered dramatically.

“Otherwise it’s two roosters making eyes at each other.”

“What does it matter? It’s only a bird,” Claudine replied with a small laugh, turning back to her stitching.

Matthias flipped another page once the bird hopped off the book, unbothered as it flitted around his hair and shoulders.

“At your engagement party, you should wear yellow, Claudine. Maybe His Grace will dote on you like that bird.”

“No.”

Her reply was instant.

“I dislike yellow. It feels… cheap.”

She smoothed her embroidery, smiling slightly.

Riette’s lips twisted in a wry grin. He knew her barbs well enough. Dropping the topic, he moved back to Matthias’s army service and the upcoming engagement.

“Our little Claudine is about to outshine even the imperial princess.”

“Don’t exaggerate, brother.”

Claudine laughed, radiant, though her brows tightened briefly.

Everyone knew the Emperor of Berck wanted Matthias for his beloved youngest daughter. The princess was a beauty, the jewel of society. Even Claudine had felt the threat.

But Matthias had refused.

Why?

Because the Herhardts were older, wealthier, and prouder than the imperial house. Taking a princess as duchess would bring more inconvenience than gain.

That arrogance was tolerated—because it was the Herhardts.

So Claudine Brandt had bested a princess.

Not for love.

But in name, and in rank, she would soon be above her. And that thought made Claudine feel as though she could love everything in the world. Even that ridiculous little bird.

“Our duke’s engagement right around the corner. Makes me feel strange, somehow.”

Riette stretched again, settling upright.

Claudine lowered her eyes, her needle flashing.

As if nothing had ever been said.