ONE NIGHT STAND WITH HOT DUKE-Chapter 129: Something that I might be able to do

At that moment, Esme returned from the restroom, her face bright as ever, unaware of the heavy silence that had just passed. Valerie quickly brushed at the corner of her eye and smiled but this time her smile was different. Still fragile, yet more honest.

In her heart, Valerie knew her life hadn’t changed. She would still return to the castle. Still stand at a duke’s side. Still carry a suspended status with no certainty.

But for a few minutes in that small café, with an old friend who saw her as she truly was, Valerie felt if only briefly that she still had room to breathe.

"Do you know?" Esme said, her voice trembling with genuine excitement. "The opera at the eastern hall is staging a new production tonight. They say it’s beautiful about a reunion after a long separation. We should go watch it, then take a walk. Like we used to."

The words like we used to landed gently, yet struck something deep in Valerie’s chest. For a moment, she fell silent. A warm impulse nearly made her nod without thinking a desire to become her old self again, the one who could laugh freely without counting the hours, who could return home without dread. But another image quickly followed: the castle gates, the servants’ watchful eyes, the clock that always seemed to tick too loudly.

Ethan rescued the silence with a small smile."An opera sounds nice," he said calmly. "It’s been a long time since the three of us did something like this."

And in the end, they went.

The night welcomed them with lights flickering on one by one, the city streets shimmering with a golden glow. Inside the opera house, the music rose lofty, grand, and filled with yearning. Valerie sat between Esme and Ethan, her dress immaculate, her posture composed. But her heart her heart trembled. Every note seemed to remind her of something she once had, and then slowly let go.

Esme leaned over from time to time, whispering about stage details or praising a singer she adored. Ethan, on the other hand, commented only occasionally brief, sincere, always precise. Valerie listened, smiled softly, laughed when Esme went overboard with her admiration for a scene. In between those moments, she forgot forgot the title, forgot the distance, forgot the great name now attached to her.

When the opera ended, they walked along streets embraced by the deepening night. Streetlamps cast their three shadows onto the damp stone. Esme talked endlessly about her wedding plans, about Ronald who was stiff but loyal, about her dream of a small house with windows facing a garden. Ethan listened, sometimes nodding, sometimes adding a short remark that made Esme scoff in mock annoyance before laughing again.

Valerie walked between them, her hands clasped in front of her. She felt warm not only from the air, but from the simple truth that she was remembered, invited, included. That she was not merely a name spoken by others.

Without realizing it, time slipped away. Valerie glanced up at the sky the moon was high now, the night far later than she had expected. Her steps slowed.

"Esme," she said softly, almost reluctant to break the moment, "I have to go back."

Esme stopped abruptly. Her smile faded, replaced by an honest, childlike disappointment."Already?" she asked. "It feels like we just got here. I’m not ready to part yet."

Valerie looked at her friend’s face the face that had known her before everything changed."I’m not either," she replied quietly. "But I can’t stay too long."

There was another meaning behind those words one that didn’t need explaining. Esme understood, even if her heart resisted it. She was about to say something, perhaps to persuade, perhaps to hold on. But Ethan stepped half a pace forward.

"Esme," he said gently but firmly, "Valerie really does have to return."

Esme turned to him, slightly annoyed."You’re always too reasonable," she muttered half teasing, half resigned.

Ethan gave a small smile, then looked at Valerie a gaze without judgment, without pressure."We can meet again," he said. "It doesn’t have to be today. It doesn’t have to be long. But next time peacefully."

Valerie nodded. The words were simple, yet they felt like a small promise she could safely hold onto."Yes," she said. "I’d like that."

Esme hugged Valerie tightly longer than usual."Don’t disappear again," she whispered. "At least let me know you’re alright."

Valerie returned the embrace. Her chest warmed, her eyes burned slightly."I’ll try," she answered honestly.

Ethan stood a short distance away, giving them space. When Valerie approached him, he inclined his head slightly not out of formality, but respect."Take care on your way back," he said.

"You too," Valerie replied.

When she finally walked away, Valerie did not look back. She was afraid afraid that if she saw their faces one more time, her feet would refuse to move. Yet within her, something remained simple laughter, lighter steps, and the reminder that before she became a duke’s woman, she had been and still was Valerie.

And that night, brief as it was, gave her the breath she needed to move forward once more.

The upper-floor corridor should have been silent as it always was, like every night when the castle began to fall asleep. Yet for Valerie, that night felt as though someone had deliberately switched on a light far too bright right in front of her eyes.

She had just stepped onto the final stair when the door to Demian’s study opened.

And the world stopped moving.

Ivanka Kosler stepped out first.

Her hair was loose, her expression calm almost satisfied and her body was wrapped in nothing but Demian’s shirt. It hung oversized on her frame, falling to mid-thigh, the sleeves slightly rolled as if she had adjusted them without much care for how it looked.

Then Demian followed.

Shirtless.Only dark trousers clung to his hips. His shoulders were bare, his chest rising and falling slowly, silver hair faintly disheveled.

Valerie didn’t know which hurt more the sight itself, or the fact that for a fraction of a second, neither of them looked guilty.

Demian noticed her first.

"Valerie—" he paused, then spoke quickly, as if an explanation could still fix everything. "Ivanka spilled tea on her dress. She couldn’t go out like that, so she wore my shirt for now. She’ll change into another gown after this."

The words were neat. Too neat.

Valerie looked at him. Her gaze was flat, her face calm a calmness that made Demian’s chest tighten.

"I don’t care,"