Two weeks passed in a blur.
Min-jae had slipped neatly into the rhythm of Abdel-shafi, moving through the castle with practiced ease, no longer an outsider gaping at new sights but a temporary resident who knew which halls were quiet, which balconies caught the best breeze at dusk, and which servants would gossip if he so much as blinked wrong.
Jahan still dragged him everywhere.
And every time, Min-jae followed with that same calm expression even while his brain screamed, I didn't come here to babysit a prince.
The castle staff adored him.
The king and queen asked about his "wife" every time they saw him.
Tariq still glared at him like he wanted to bite something.
And Min-jae?
He pretended not to notice any of it.
He slept well, ate too well, and ignored the quiet ache each night when he remembered Meical.
His dumb husband who probably hadn't even realized he was gone the first few days.
Probably.
Maybe.
