Imogen, still recovering from childbirth, took a short walk in the garden to clear her mind before returning to her room. Back in her room, Archie brought a basin of water to wash her feet. After drying them, he helped her settle into bed, tucking the blanket around her with a gentle smile. "It's getting late. Time to sleep."

Imogen found this odd and tugged on Archie's hand. "Aren't you going to sleep with me?"

Archie patiently reassured her, "I'll stay in the guest room until you've fully recovered. I don't want to disturb you if I wake up in the middle of the night to check on the baby."

"Oh, alright." Although disappointed, Imogen accepted his explanation. After all, Archie often rose at night to care for the baby in the next room. The maids frequently praised Archie to her, saying that, despite being a new father, he was incredibly attentive. This filled Imogen with a similar sentiment.

"Thank you for everything, Archie," she said softly.

"It's my duty," Archie replied, leaning down to kiss her forehead. After bidding her goodnight, he left the room.

Once the door closed, Imogen's smile faded, her expression becoming unreadable. Archie was back, and she should be happy. But she couldn't shake the feeling that he was both familiar and strange; well-known yet inscrutable. Archie remained attentive, but a sense of detachment permeated his care. Whenever she tried to get closer, he stiffened, seeming resistant or reluctant. Why? They were husband and wife; shouldn't their kisses and embraces be natural?

The unease grew. She wondered if she was suffering from postpartum depression or simply overthinking. Was that why she felt paranoid and insecure? That afternoon, she had even grabbed Archie's hand and asked, "Do you not love me anymore?"

Archie had spent a long time comforting and assuring her of his love. Each declaration was tender and heartfelt, a vow-like sincerity that made her cheeks flush and her heart race. But alone again, the cold emptiness of the other side of the bed left her heart hollow.

Imogen stared into the darkness, her voice barely a whisper. "You can comfort me all you want, but please… don't lie to me."

Archie had been staying in the guest room for the past few nights. As he pushed open the door, a pair of arms wrapped around him from behind. Archie quickly closed and locked the door. He turned and embraced the woman clinging to him, holding Johanna tightly. His tone was indulgent yet tinged with helplessness. "Are you jealous again?"