About

We were bound by a political marriage. To me, he was not a beloved husband. He was merely a connection forged by the family's will, a man who used me like a tool. To him, I must have been nothing more than a political partner. Then one day, a friend who was jealous of me spread false rumors that I was a traitor. As the daughter of an influential Duke, her words quickly swept through high society, and people branded me a traitor without a single doubt. Accustomed to a life without love, I wasn't particularly shocked. Even my family didn't love me, and my husband only used me. So, I thought it would just pass. However, my husband's reaction was different from what I expected. He demanded a divorce. Although the divorce was eventually scrapped due to family pressure... he did not leave me alone. And that night, I looked into his face—the face of the man who killed me—one last time as I drew my final breath. ……That was how my life should have ended. When I opened my eyes, I had returned to three years before everything happened. The point where the political marriage had just been decided. I resolved that in this life, I would live comfortably without being used by anyone. I planned to demand a broken engagement from my husband, cut ties with the friend who framed me, and tell my father I would find a new suitor. But— “This time…… please don't abandon me.” “Excuse me……!?” He was definitely the man who killed me. Yet, he held onto me with desperate eyes, as if he were someone who had experienced that tragic future along with me. I remember my death. If so, then you…… exactly what is it that you remember?