I Won't Pick up the Trash I Threw Away

After six long years of war, my betrothed finally returned—but not alone. He arrived with another woman and their child, claiming he couldn’t abandon them. The same reckless man who once burdened me with the responsibilities of a duchess now dismissed me with cruel words: “Leila, you’re not the duchess yet.” That was the final straw. I ended our engagement without hesitation.

Later, in a moment of uncertainty, I found myself asking, “How far can I go?” Silence followed, and I quickly tried to backtrack, embarrassed by my own question. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. That wasn’t what I meant to say—”

Kalian interrupted me, his voice calm, almost amused. “Anything,” he said simply. There was no anger in his tone—if anything, he seemed to be smiling. “As long as you’re not selling the kingdom, you have my permission. You’re my agent now.”

Some things, once discarded, should never be reclaimed.