*Chapter 20: Scars on the Same Heart**
When Silence Feels Safer Than Words
---
Hana stared out the window of her childhood room, the one with pale pink curtains and an old bookshelf that still smelled like rain-soaked paper.
She hadn't been here in years — not since marrying into the Wolter family. And yet, everything looked the same. The vines crawling outside the windows, the slight creak in the floorboard near the bed, even the old photo frame with her mother's faded smile.
Everything was the same.
Except *her*.
She had changed.
Or maybe… *she had remembered* who she used to be before Sher Wolter.
---
### A Safe Distance
She hadn't cried.
Not when she left the Wolter mansion.
Not when Sher didn't stop her.
And she wouldn't cry now.
Instead, she busied herself with Chorl Foundation files, daily garden walks, and sarcastic banter with Kai over calls.
Klein had texted her, once — something like *"Sher looks like he hasn't slept in 3 days. Just saying."*
She didn't reply.
Not because she didn't care.
But because if she let herself reply…
She might fall again.
And this time, she wasn't sure if she'd survive.
---
### Meanwhile, Back at the Mansion...
Sher sat in his study, surrounded by reports, yet reading none of them.
Every time the door clicked, he looked up. Hoping. Expecting.
But it was always Mira. Or silence.
"She hasn't contacted me," Mira said one evening. "She's keeping her distance, sir."
Sher didn't reply. His hands were clenched so tight his knuckles had gone white.
"Do you want me to—"
"No," he cut in. "If she doesn't want to be found, I won't insult her by chasing."
Mira hovered closer, worried.
"But what if she wants you to chase?"
---
### The Twist Begins
On the fourth day, Hana was attending a charity gala her family hosted — draped in crimson silk, eyes unreadable, smile cold.
Everything was going fine.
Until she heard a familiar voice behind her.
"I heard the Chorl princess was here, looking all calm and in control," came a sly, mocking tone.
Hana turned. Her stomach twisted.
**Princess Liora.**
The royal heiress who had once tried to claim Sher as her political match — and had *hated* Hana ever since their marriage.
"Oh," Hana said dryly. "Still breathing, are we?"
Liora's smile didn't reach her eyes. "For now. Unlike your marriage."
The words hit like ice. Hana didn't flinch.
"Must be nice," she said sweetly, "having so much free time to stalk other people's husbands. Still no luck with yours?"
People around them laughed.
But Liora leaned closer, her voice venomous.
"You can push him away all you like, but it won't change the truth. He belongs in our world. And you—" her eyes narrowed, "—are just a beautiful mess with sharp words and a weak heart."
That's when Hana's smile *vanished*.
---
### And Then… He Walked In
Just as Hana opened her mouth to destroy Liora with one final sentence—
A familiar presence entered the ballroom.
Tall. Cold. Impossibly magnetic.
**Sher Wolter.**
Every guest turned. Even the chandeliers seemed to pause.
Hana's breath caught.
And Liora's face lost all color.
Sher's grey eyes scanned the room — and locked on *Hana*.
He walked past the royals, the nobles, the whispers.
Stopped right in front of her.
And without breaking eye contact, he said one thing that silenced the world:
---
> "You left. But my heart didn't let you go."
The words hung in the air like thunder refusing to fade.
Liora's fake composure shattered. Guests watched in stunned silence.
But Hana?
She didn't even blink.
She tilted her head, gaze cold as ice. "Did you rehearse that in front of a mirror? Or was Mira your audience?"
The sharpness in her tone didn't go unnoticed.
Sher's jaw flexed. "Do you think this is a game to me?"
"No," she said smoothly, "you don't play games. You win them. That's the difference."
---
### A Storm Between Them
The ballroom faded. Lights, whispers, murmurs—none of it mattered anymore.
Hana turned to leave, but Sher caught her wrist gently. "You misunderstood that night."
"Oh, did I?" Her laugh was hollow. "Because I clearly remember your voice saying you *used* me to win back power."
Sher's brows furrowed. "That's not what I meant—"
"But that's what you *said*," she cut in, eyes shimmering but unreadable. "And words matter, Sher. They always have."
He was quiet.
"Then tell me," she whispered. "Why didn't you run after me?"
Sher stared at her. The truth was tangled in his throat.
"Because…" he said, voice low, "I thought you needed space. And I didn't want to chase a woman who looked at me like I broke her."
Her expression cracked—just slightly.
"And did you?" she asked.
He didn't answer.
---
No Confession, No Retreat
Sher stepped closer. "Tell me you don't feel anything, Hana. Tell me you hate me, and I'll walk away."
Her heart thudded violently against her ribs.
She looked at him—her cold, beautiful husband with haunted eyes—and smiled. But it didn't reach her eyes.
"I don't feel anything," she said flatly.
Liar.
It broke her inside. But she said it anyway.
Sher's hand dropped from her wrist. His face hardened—blank mask returning.
"Understood," he said simply, voice perfectly composed. "From now on, you'll get the husband you *think* you married."
He turned and walked out.
And that time—it was *Hana* who didn't stop him.
---
### Later That Night…
Back in her room, Hana sat motionless on the edge of her bed.
The air was too quiet. Her heart was too loud.
She didn't cry.
But a single tear slipped down her cheek.
And she whispered to herself, so low even the walls wouldn't hear:
> "I lied."
---