One Day, My Fiancé Brought His First Love Along - Chapter 32

“Jeron.”

He stood tall, his short hair neatly slicked back, looking even more commanding than usual. His expression, however, showed a hint of nervousness.

“You look… breathtaking, Aileen. So much that I didn’t know how to approach you.”

“Is that so? You look wonderful tonight, too, Jeron.”

At her compliment, Jeron awkwardly scratched his reddening cheek.

“I… um… later, would it be all right if we had the first dance…?”

He stumbled over his words, his voice quieter than usual as he glanced around at the crowd, clearly conscious of their surroundings.

But Aileen could only offer him an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry, Jeron. I promised my brother I’d dance the first with him.”

“Ah—of course. That’s fine. I’d be happy with the next—”

He had just begun to recover when his words were cut off.

“Count Carlisle Averg and Lady Judith of House Hessiden are entering!”

The doors opened, and the voice of the herald rang out loud and clear—announcing the two people Aileen had least wanted to see.

Her eyes shifted to the entrance almost instinctively.

As he always did at formal events, Carlisle wore sleek black attire, his hair combed neatly to one side. He walked beside Judith with his usual composure.

Following the direction of Marquess Hessiden, who had arrived earlier, the two proceeded deeper into the hall. As other nobles moved aside to give them space, Carlisle’s face came into view.

He looked paler than the last time she saw him. The sharp angles of his nose and jawline had grown even more pronounced. His eyes were darker, colder—heavier somehow. He looked… gaunt.

If he had thrown her away so cruelly—if he had chosen betrayal—then shouldn’t he at least look happier?
Why did he look like this?

Her eyes, tinged with an emotion she couldn’t quite name, drifted to Judith, who stood proudly beside him.

Lavender hair flowed freely down her shoulders, and a large ruby hairpiece sparkled beside her right ear. Her rose-colored gown dipped low at the neckline, cinched tightly at the ribs before flaring outward, completely obscuring her stomach. Her arms were bare.

Those vivid red eyes sparkled with joy—radiating a happiness she could barely contain. In contrast to Carlisle’s cold stillness, Judith looked utterly alive. Beautiful. Almost too much so.

It was strange.

To see another woman standing in the place she once believed would always be hers—standing beside him in front of all the nobles gathered—it left a sour, unfamiliar sensation in her chest.

And then, as if on cue, the memory of what happened at Madame Kiroe’s atelier came flooding back. The emotions tangled inside her—bitterness, betrayal, sorrow—all began to stir again.

She had thought it was over. She had convinced herself she could see him again and feel nothing.

But maybe… maybe she was wrong.

“Aileen.”

Jeron’s voice pulled her back from the brink.

“Ah… sorry, Jeron.”

“It’s all right. His Majesty will be arriving soon, and when the dancing starts… I’ll come find you again.”

“My father’s calling me.”

He added with a soft smile, then melted into the crowd.

Aileen exhaled a quiet sigh. Guilt pricked at her—for Jeron, and for herself.

“Aileen, there’s Retta over there. Why don’t you go say hello?”

The Duchess, who had been chatting with nearby noblewomen while listening discreetly to their conversation, spoke gently.

And just as she said, Aileen spotted Retta—her familiar face flickering into view through the crowd.

Without hesitation, Aileen turned and made her way toward her.

As she wove through the throng, she occasionally felt the burn of certain gazes settling on the exposed skin of her back. She didn’t have time to figure out who they belonged to.

The emperor had arrived.

“I’m glad to see so many in attendance tonight.
May the glory of our past shine even brighter in the years ahead.
Let us not forget this day—this moment.”

With Emperor Edys’s brief speech, soft, elegant music began to spread through the grand ballroom.

Older nobles gathered in strategic clusters, following the alignments of power and interest, while the younger ones began drifting toward the dance floor in pairs.

“May I have the first dance?”

As promised, Ashite appeared at Aileen’s side and held out his hand with a smile.

“Ashite, you almost feel like a real person today. It’s kind of strange.”

“…What did you just say, Retta?”

“I didn’t say anything!”

Retta quickly retreated to her husband, tail tucked, when Ashite growled and instantly dropped his usual composed smile.

Watching the familiar scene, Aileen let out a small laugh and took Ashite’s hand. The two began to move in perfect rhythm.

Aileen danced with practiced ease. Her graceful movements sent gentle shimmers through her ivory gown, scattering light like falling snow.

She spun lightly in his arms, and as they approached the final steps of the dance, her gaze briefly locked with Carlisle’s through the crowd. It lasted only a moment, but it pierced sharply before vanishing again.

Something twisted in her chest. But before it could grow, the music changed—and Jeron stepped in to take his turn.

“Aileen.”

He offered his hand with a gentle smile. Aileen placed hers in his.

Despite his large frame, Jeron’s hand was surprisingly soft. Not the hand of a man who wielded a sword—it was the hand of someone who had never known the weight of steel. A man of numbers, not of war.

Aileen sometimes forgot that Jeron worked in the Ministry of Finance. Could she truly spend her life with someone who walked a path so different from hers? What if, like before, they hit a wall neither could cross? Would she be able to share her burdens, her heart, with him?

As Jeron led her across the floor, his steps fluid and sure, Aileen found herself lost in those questions.

Then, suddenly, the music shifted. The dance brought them into a sweeping half-arc, reversing their orientation—and once again, her eyes clashed with a gaze she didn’t want to meet.

She instinctively lowered her gaze half a palm’s width.

That sight—his arm wrapped firmly around Judith’s waist—appeared and disappeared between swaying dancers. She couldn’t look away.

Carlisle’s piercing blue eyes… even as he danced with Judith, never strayed from her.

It made no sense.

Aileen’s expression slowly faded as she struggled to make sense of the growing ache.

“Aileen… are you feeling unwell?”

“Huh?”

“I thought your face seemed a bit pale. If my dancing is the problem, please forgive me.”

“Oh… no, it’s not that, Jeron. I think I was just concentrating too hard. I didn’t even realize I was frowning. I’m sorry.”

“If you’re tired, we can stop. Truly—I’m already happy just knowing you agreed to dance with me.”

His voice held a trace of disappointment, but the sincerity in it warmed her. After a moment’s thought, Aileen nodded and thanked him quietly. They slipped off the floor together.

Carlisle never took his eyes off them until their figures disappeared into the crowd. His deep blue gaze darkened, glinting cold beneath the surface.

“…Jealous, are you?”

Judith curled one side of her lips into a smirk, her voice teasing but sharp. Others would have seen the way she looked up at Carlisle—her large eyes gleaming with mischief—as endearing. Almost charming.

All eyes were still on them—the dazzling couple making their debut as a pair. Judith knew it. That was precisely why she found so much pleasure in provoking him.

“Come on, say something. People will start wondering if you’re still obsessed with your ex, you know. Your dazzling new lover’s standing right here.”

Only then did Carlisle lower his gaze to meet hers. When Judith saw herself fully reflected in his eyes, she smiled even more radiantly.

“That’s better.”

But her satisfaction didn’t last long.

“…Enough.”

“What? You want to stop?”

“I think we’ve danced enough.”

“Even if this is a contract between us, don’t you think this is a little much? Your ex-fiancée disappears with another man and the first thing you want to do is run after her? That’s what I’d expect from some desperate fool.”

“…”

“Besides—I’m pregnant, remember? With your child. Leaving me alone like this? What do you think that’ll look like?”

Her words were laced with sweetness, but the warning beneath them was clear. Her lips smiled, her voice gentle, but her meaning sharp. Around them, the nobles had no idea what was being said—only that the two of them looked like a painting as they danced.

From the moment he entered the ballroom, Carlisle’s attention had been focused solely on Aileen. Even without seeing her, he could sense her.

Always.

He noticed everything—Jeron approaching her, the way Aileen’s bare back caught the wandering eyes of the nobles, the way she danced in someone else’s arms.

Carlisle wanted to rip Jeron’s hand from her waist, wanted to pull her back into his arms.
When their eyes met earlier, he wished time would freeze.
But he couldn’t look away.
Not even when Aileen turned her head, her gaze shifting to Jeron instead.

All of it—his desires, his jealousy, his impulse to reach out—were selfish. Wrong. He knew that.

You shouldn’t be seeing a commoner. An orphan. Someone beneath you…

He had ignored all those warnings, once. And if he had known it would end like this—if he had known she would look at him with such disappointment, such grief, such disgust—maybe he would’ve listened.

Carlisle forced himself to remember every moment of that day. The contempt in her eyes. The shame. The pain.
He had caused it.
He had chosen this.
And yet now that it was real, it was unbearable.

To know that he had destroyed her—and that she was looking at someone else now.

And to know that he was the one she had to survive.

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