The End of the Special Contract Romance (1)
The new bride’s smiling face was utterly beautiful. It radiated a brilliant glow all on its own, as if it had distilled and captured every ounce of happiness and joy in the world.
Iris stood among the wedding guests, gazing at her friend as she walked down the aisle. They had known each other since childhood, their bond forged through years of deep friendship.
Her fiancé’s carriage accident had left him gravely injured, postponing the wedding again and again, but at last, with his full recovery, the ceremony could finally take place.
Perhaps because of all those hardships and trials, the groom and bride—slipping rings onto each other’s fingers—beamed with wide smiles even as tears glistened in their eyes. Iris offered them a heartfelt round of congratulatory applause and let a faint smile curve her lips.
She wished, from the bottom of her heart, that her friend would live in happiness for a long, long time to come.
Holding that earnest wish close, she remained in her seat until the ceremony ended, then joined her other friends in moving to the dining area. Tables laden with food had been arranged in the outdoor space behind the temple where the wedding had been held.
The friends claimed a single table for themselves, settling in to chat idly among one another.
“Did you see Rachel bawling her eyes out at the end? She wept so heartbreakingly, I nearly started crying myself.”
“It couldn’t be helped. How much did she suffer waiting for Viscount Morgan? Honestly, she could’ve called off the engagement and found someone new, but she stayed true to her word.”
“Anyway, it’s a good thing they’ve finally tied the knot. Viscount Morgan will spend the rest of his life making it up to Rachel for keeping her loyalty, and she’ll be with the man she wanted—perfect for her.”
Iris listened quietly to her friends’ words, murmuring agreement now and then. There was one simple reason she didn’t throw herself into the conversation more actively.
She had no desire to draw attention to herself.
And so she hoped the topic wouldn’t swing her way—but with every other one of them married, her friends had no choice but to turn their curiosity toward the only unmarried woman in their midst.
“So, Iris is the only one among us who hasn’t gotten married yet?”
Someone tossed out the question offhand, and every gaze snapped to Iris, who had been eating demurely. Her expression stiffened ever so slightly.
“Oh, you’re right! Iris, when on earth are you going to marry Viscount Roberts?”
“Yeah, you’ve been together for quite a while now, haven’t you? It’s high time you started planning the wedding. If Viscount Roberts is dragging his feet, you should dump him on the spot.”
One friend planted her hands on her hips and delivered the advice with grave sincerity. Flustered, Iris waved her hands in hasty denial.
“It’s not like that—don’t get the wrong idea. We’re together because we genuinely like each other.”
“Really? Well, that figures. Where else is he going to find someone as pretty, kind, and well-bred as you, Iris?”
“Honestly, once we’re all married, you’d make the best wife out of any of us, don’t you think? I can just picture you being amazing at supporting your husband.”
“Of course—the Viscount Roberts who marries Iris is one lucky man. He’s a little older, sure, but you two can just start having children right after the wedding.”
Iris gulped down water in quick succession to hide the way her face was twisting in discomfort.
The friends she’d gathered with today shared long histories, so their words flowed freely, without a hint of restraint. It was a comfort at times, but in a moment like this, it left her inwardly uneasy.
She knew they meant well by her, but that didn’t make their words any easier to hear—any more what she wanted.
*A good wife…*
Truth be told, Iris not only doubted she could become the kind of exemplary wife her friends praised; she was downright skeptical of the notion.
This, despite having diligently attended bridal lessons throughout her girlhood and earning repeated acclaim from society as the finest catch for marriage.
Why?
*Because I don’t really want to become that at all.*
She had no wish for a life of marriage that turned her into someone’s wife—tending to him until her dying day, bearing children that ravaged her body, raising them through endless toil.
Even born into one of noble society’s most harmonious households, where those around her generally enjoyed untroubled family lives, the very idea filled her with aversion.
But what good would it do to bare her soul to these friends? They would only dismiss her as childish and offer the same tired reassurances she could already predict:
*Once you actually get married, it’ll be different, Iris. You’re just still living like a sheltered girl under your parents’ wing—that’s all it is.*
*Or maybe you haven’t met the person you truly love yet? Once you do, your heart will change, you’ll see.*
After venturing similar confessions a few times only to feel more suffocated than ever, Iris had learned to seal her lips entirely.
Thankfully, once she began her contract romance with Eric, the nagging voices had quieted. But even that respite had worn thin after two full years.
The pressure to marry started building again, the people heaping it on Iris multiplying once more. Even near-strangers felt bold enough to toss in their two cents.
Close acquaintances or distant ones—it all amounted to the same thing in the end.
No one was truly on her side.
*Ah, I feel like I’m going to choke.*
At last diverting her friends’ attention elsewhere, Iris pressed a hand to her solar plexus and faintly creased her brow.
Everyone else seemed wrapped in joy and serenity, but inside her, it was a roiling sea lashed by storm winds.
How much longer could she hold out like this?
With every mounting wave of pressure, the knot in Iris’s chest tightened further. The small sigh she exhaled as she turned her head carried a worry that ran deep and heavy.
* * *
The Botanical Society’s annual conference rotated among the seven major kingdoms each year. This time, it was hosted by the Kingdom of Kent, so Eric had made the trip for a few days.
Unfortunately, the schedules overlapped, and he hadn’t been able to attend Iris’s friend’s wedding as her partner. Fortunately, Iris—ever understanding—had sent him off without a single word of complaint.
Feeling unnecessarily guilty about it, Eric had bought her a gift on his way back. But now that he was home in the empire, it struck him as overly extravagant, leaving him in a bind.
*We’re not even really dating, so wouldn’t something like this just make her uncomfortable?*
It had already been two years since he and Iris had entered into their contractual romance, driven by mutual self-interest. By now, they ought to at least be friends, yet a clear wall still stood between them.
There was this persistent tension that kept him from fully relaxing, forcing him every so often to mentally trace the boundaries before acting.
*Is this okay? Or should I hold back?*
*But this time, it’s really tricky…*
Eric knew full well that the longer their “relationship” dragged on, the more whispers would start behind their backs. Like Iris, he too was under no small amount of pressure to marry.
Amid all that, he could easily picture the awkwardness Iris must have endured, showing up alone to the wedding without a partner. That was why he’d bought the gift in the first place—yet now, actually giving it to her felt like a hurdle he couldn’t clear.
In the end, he’d made it as far as the Marquis Hugo’s residence before turning on his heel and heading to a nearby park instead.
He figured a breath of fresh air would help him think more clearly and decide what to do next—only to spot someone utterly unexpected there.
“Lady Hugo…?”
The profile of the woman sitting blankly on the bench, lost in thought, was achingly familiar. When he called out softly, just as he’d anticipated, Iris turned her head.
“Ah, Young Lord Roberts.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Just… had some things on my mind.”
Iris lowered her gaze and offered a faint, clouded smile before tilting her head in mild confusion.
“But what about you? Why are you here…?”
“…”
With no ready excuse coming to mind, Eric gave an awkward laugh and opted for honesty.
“I was on my way to see you, but I stopped by first to sort out a few thoughts of my own.”
“I see. So, what business did you have with me?”
“Um.”
Eric fiddled with the gift box tucked in his pocket and, instead of answering, simply sat down beside her. The long summer sun was beginning its slow descent.
He pondered what to say next, then settled on the safest, most ordinary opener: a simple check-in.
“How was your friend’s wedding?”
“Oh, yes. It was a long time coming, so they seemed incredibly happy. Watching them, I felt a little envious… and amazed.”
“Really? What part?”
Eric’s voice resonated low and gentle. It was such a soothing timbre, warm and reassuring, that Iris found herself letting slip words she’d been holding back without even realizing it.
“Just… I wondered if it could really feel that good. And it was nice to think that she’ll never have to worry her family again. Both sets of parents were over the moon.”
Seeing them had inevitably brought her own parents to mind. If Iris walked down the aisle someday, the marquis and marchioness would be twice as overjoyed.
Fidgeting with her fingers, Iris let out a sigh that carried the weight of her words.
“Watching my friends, sometimes I think maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to just get married like everyone else and start a family.”
“Why’s that?”
“Then, at least, I wouldn’t disappoint my parents. I could be a proper child for once.”
Ever since returning from the wedding, her thoughts had been a tangled mess, branching out until they’d reached that reluctant conclusion.
She didn’t have the confidence to marry, but she lacked the strength to hold out against the mounting pressure from all sides forever, either.
“Everyone else’s kids from other families are all married and settled down. If I’m the only one who doesn’t, won’t it feel like I’m lagging behind? Besides, people’s expectations of me are so limited anyway…”
“I don’t think that way.”
Eric, who had been listening quietly to her words, refuted her firmly. Her eyes—dark like fresh leaves—widened in surprise.
“…Pardon?”
“Not following the path everyone else takes, or not living like ordinary people, doesn’t mean you’re falling behind. It just means you’re different from them.”
Eric smiled softly. It was a gaze so warm and kind that it instantly quieted the churning in her heart.
“Being different isn’t the same as being wrong. I hope you’ll keep walking your own path, steadfast as you are.”
“Even if I don’t marry… and just waste away the years without ever sorting out my own heart…?”
“That’s not wasting time. It’s the process of discovering who you are.”
For someone raised in a mold, reclaiming control over their own life could only take time and effort. Eric knew that all too well; he’d once been smothered by his parents’ expectations of him becoming a reliable head of the household before he’d finally broken free.
At least he’d had a clear goal in botany that let him stand on his own sooner, but without that, he might have wobbled like Iris, with waves of doubt crashing over him again and again.
“The more confusion you endure, the stronger you’ll grow. Plants are the same way. Once they push roots through harsh winds and rain, they show a resilient life force that nothing can shake.”
“…Is that so.”
Hearing comfort from Eric—words no close acquaintance had ever offered—left Iris with a strange feeling stirring inside.
Her nose prickled, and she couldn’t tell if it was resentment toward those around her or gratitude toward him.
Eric watched her fall silent for a moment, then spoke up with a lighthearted cheer.
“Actually, I came today because I had a gift for you, but I don’t think it’ll work.”
“…?”
“Let’s exchange it.”
Feeling her large, round eyes—innocent as a gentle puppy’s—fix on him full of questions, Eric grinned.
“Lady Hugo, are you free this weekend? Come with me to the arboretum—let’s shake off the blues.”
The fading twilight’s red glow washed over Eric. Iris, unable to tear her gaze from his eyes that held the sunset’s warmth, nodded almost without thinking.
It was the first time she’d ever broken their agreement to meet just once a week.
