Chapter 363: The Hidden Widow (1) Clarisse
The sun had just begun to rise over the rooftops of Grafen, casting a warm, golden light that filled the city streets with a quiet peace. Clarisse adjusted the weight of her sleeping son on her hip as she stepped out of the high-end inn where they had been staying. Her long blonde hair, tied back in a loose braid, shimmered in the sunlight, and she looked every bit the beautiful noblewoman, though her circumstances were anything but luxurious.
Grafen had become her home after everything fell apart. After the war, after Lucan’s death, and after her father-in-law Hektor’s betrayal. She hadn’t chosen this life, but she was determined to make it bearable, if only for her son. The little boy, barely ten months old, snuggled against her chest, his soft breaths warm against her neck. He was all she had left, and everything she did now was for him.
The market was already bustling by the time she arrived. The sounds of merchants calling out their wares, the clatter of carts, and the chatter of townspeople filled the air. Clarisse made her way through the crowd, her sharp eyes scanning the stalls for the best produce. She had learned to live simply since everything changed, and though she was still living in a nice inn, she liked to do things herself. No more maids, no more servants running around to do her bidding. It was a strange adjustment, but one she was slowly growing used to.
"Fresh bread! Still warm from the oven!" called a baker, a broad smile on his face as he waved a loaf in her direction.
Clarisse gave him a polite nod, adjusting her grip on her son as she made her way to the stall. "Two loaves, please."
The baker, an older man with a kindly face, wrapped the bread in cloth and handed it over. "A fine choice, my lady. That’ll keep you and the little one fed for a good while."
She smiled, though it felt tight on her face. She wasn’t used to people calling her "my lady" anymore. It reminded her too much of her old life, the life that was now just a distant memory. After paying the baker, she moved on to the vegetable stall, picking out some fresh carrots and a few potatoes for the simple stew she had been planning to make later.
As she moved through the market, Clarisse kept her son close, her mind wandering. This was her new reality—quiet mornings in Grafen, shopping in the market like any other commoner, trying to make ends meet. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was peaceful. At least, until she remembered why she was here in the first place. Her chest tightened at the thought of Lucan, her husband. He had sworn he would win, that he would protect her and their child. He had failed.
A flicker of anger sparked in her chest, a familiar feeling these days. It wasn’t just Lucan she was angry at. No, there was another. The man who had killed him. Lyan. The man who seemed to always be nearby, checking in on her and her son like it was his duty. She couldn’t decide whether to be grateful or furious every time she saw him. He was responsible for Lucan’s death, after all. But there was something else... something she didn’t want to admit to herself. Something that made her feel conflicted whenever he was around.