I’m Not Sorry But The Prince Will Marry Me Anyway

Tristan.

What are you thinking about by yourself right now?

I wanted to ask him that over and over. Was he misunderstanding something?

That sort of thing didn’t suit our relationship.

Honestly, isn’t this the kind of situation that only happens to protagonists in a five-volume romance novel who have already spent four volumes building up their story?

For a moment, I considered just laying everything out and freeing myself from this mess.

But the problem was that the cards in my hand weren’t exactly clean enough to clear up any misunderstandings.

Bringing up the salon might just add more fuel to the fire.

While I hesitated, Tristan seemed to have reached a decision and turned to me.

“Dori. Do you have time today?”

“Yes, of course!”

“I was thinking of visiting Rick… and there’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”

“Understood. Whatever it is, please go ahead.”

“Then get ready and come out. If you need anything, let the palace maids know.”

Tristan returned to his room.

When the maid approached to take his orders, I told her I didn’t need anything. But without a word, she handed me a small cloth pouch.

It wasn’t until then that I realized I actually did need something—to store the crumpled, filthy letter I was holding.

Walking around with it as it was would definitely make people recoil. Especially my family.

Soon, dressed simply, I headed to the royal hospital with Tristan.

Rick was lying in a spacious and comfortable private room.