Chapter 129

Elise had sworn she wouldn’t cry. She’d rehearsed this moment over and over, each time steeling herself against the flood of sorrow she knew would come. She had anticipated that their reunion wouldn’t be pleasant, but she never imagined it would be this devastating.

The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable. Finally, as if the weight of her grief had rendered him speechless, he extended his hand cautiously. “Wait, hold on.”

Elise didn’t move, didn’t flinch. He looked down, his brow furrowing.

“I already knew it, but… did you really have to show it this much?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He noticed then—the blood smeared across her hand, dripping faintly from her clenched fist. A flash of worry crossed his face.

“You’re bleeding. Lower your hand, Elise.”

But she only tightened her grip, the edges of her nails biting even deeper into her palm. Rezette, reaching out, carefully pried her fingers open. His gaze caught on the tiny crimson beads blossoming on her skin, and he felt an unexpected surge of alarm.

He quickly looked around, searching for something to wrap her hand, but the haunted, sorrowful look in her eyes held him captive.

“Does something like this even matter to you?” she asked, her voice trembling with a bitterness that surprised them both. “Or is it just that you don’t like seeing damage done to your possessions?”

“Possessions?” He looked up at her, startled. “What are you talking about?”

Her eyes narrowed, a spark of pain and anger flashing through them. “Because I’m useless to you now, right? Broken, discarded…”

The realization struck him like a blow. Rezette felt dizzy, as though he’d just been punched in the gut. How had she come to this terrible conclusion?

He reached for her hand again, softer this time, willing her to feel what he couldn’t find the words to say.

“No… not at all,” Rezette finally managed. His voice was rough, barely steady, as he pulled a blanket around her shoulders, covering the torn nightgown that hung in shreds. Gently, he cradled her tear-streaked face in his hands, pressing his forehead against hers, trying to anchor them both. Her skin was icy, colder than he remembered. Damn it, even this chill is too familiar.

“Elise, that’s not what this is,” he murmured, his voice low and urgent.

She didn’t reply. Her gaze held him, accusing, teary, and sharp as thorns, piercing straight through his defenses. The distrust in her eyes was palpable, and it tore at something deep inside him.

Possessions? How could she think that? The thought alone was unbearable.

Without another word, Rezette drew her close, wrapping her small, trembling body in his arms. He held her tightly, willing his warmth into her chilled skin. Gradually, he felt her body soften, thawing from both fear and the cold as she melted against him.

He’d always felt this overwhelming need to hold her, as if he could imprint her into himself, as if by holding her close enough, she’d become a part of him. It was a raw, unyielding instinct that rose up every time he lost control. And now, with her fragile body in his arms, his composure was entirely shattered.

He swallowed down the sharp edge of urgency and fear that stirred within him as he took in her delicate state. Only now did he fully realize how harsh he’d been, how carelessly he’d allowed his own emotions to cloud his judgment.

He should have taken a moment to clear his head.

No matter how hard he tried, Rezette couldn’t bring himself to accept that Elise was truly trying to push him away. He stood there, caught between the painful choice of letting her go or pulling her even closer, and finally managed to speak, though his voice trembled.

“Please don’t think of it that way. You know… it’s not what you believe.”

Elise’s shoulders tensed, her eyes narrowing. “…Then why?”

He swallowed, the bitterness in his chest rising up like a tide. “Because I couldn’t understand it. Why did you leave without a word?”

She remained silent, her gaze falling away, but he pressed on, the words escaping him like sharp edges.

“You said you loved me. So why? If you intended to leave from the start, why did you make such… empty confessions?”

Had he been the only one who believed that she was his?

He looked down, his voice a hoarse whisper now. “I was angry… because I never got an explanation.”

Each word scraped painfully in his throat, like swallowing shards of glass. When he lifted his gaze, he saw her tear-streaked face, her golden eyes shimmering, the tears falling like delicate jewels.

“Don’t cry,” he murmured, his voice softening as he held her closer. “You, of all people, know I’d never hurt you.”

Elise looked up at him, startled. She stopped pulling against his embrace, her resistance melting as she searched his face, as if seeing him clearly for the first time in years.

Her gaze held his, eyes carved with the shadows of old scars. She mouthed the word silently, as if it were too heavy to speak aloud: Liar.

Rezette’s breath caught. He could wound her whenever he wished—she was right. Just as she could wound him. Not all pain was physical; some cuts went far deeper, leaving marks that never fully healed.

“I… I never lied,” Elise whispered, her voice as fragile as breaking glass. “I loved you deeply. But you… you never loved me.”

Her words were like a blow, leaving him speechless.

“That’s why I couldn’t keep holding on,” she added, her voice trembling.

As she spoke, the blanket slipped from her shoulders, revealing bruises that marred her skin beneath the tangle of her silver hair. The faint, metallic scent of blood clung to her, mingling with her own soft fragrance. She stood there, not only physically worn but profoundly wounded, as though her very heart was bruised from carrying too much hurt for too long.

It was only now, with the full weight of her brokenness laid bare, that Rezette saw her pain clearly. And it hit him, sharp and cold, piercing through his chest.

He was in freefall, a sickening realization dawning within him as he repeated her words in his mind.

Didn’t love her? Him?

The notion seemed laughable, absurd, like claiming the sun would never rise. How could she think that?

He reached out, his hands trembling as he placed them gently on her shoulders. “Elise… how could you ever think I didn’t love you?”

But her eyes held only a haunted sadness, a look that told him she had been asking herself the same question for far too long.

She’d vanished overnight, slipping away like a whisper on the wind. He had chased her across cities, a madman possessed by a single purpose. If that wasn’t love, then what could it be? Every day since she’d left, her face had haunted him, an imprint seared into his mind. Even in the height of his anger, he’d known that seeing her safe would’ve dispelled any bitterness within him in an instant.

This had to be love.

But now, with Elise standing before him, bruised and broken, Rezette felt his thoughts tangle like a knotted skein, impossible to unravel. Where was he supposed to start? What was he supposed to say? And in the back of his mind, a dark question clawed its way forward, filling him with dread.

“So… does this mean you no longer…” His voice faltered, unable to voice the rest of his question. Did she no longer love him?

But the answer was already there, plain in the golden depths of her eyes. They held a resigned coldness, a resignation so complete it left him shaken. She had already let go, hadn’t she? A chill spread through his chest as he realized how deeply he had misjudged everything. 

He’d thought simply finding her would be enough, that closing the distance would somehow erase the pain of their separation. But her hurt ran deeper than he’d ever imagined, and the distance between them was not physical but an emotional chasm he didn’t know how to bridge.

For the first time, he was forced to confront the possibility that his efforts might have come too late, that her wounds might be beyond his power to heal. The weight of it was crushing, and he felt, for the first time in his life, truly lost.

Amid the thunderous pounding of his own heart, Rezette caught a faint, fragile heartbeat that reverberated through the silence. It struck him like a bolt of lightning—Elise wasn’t alone. During the twenty agonizing days he’d spent searching for her, something had grown inside her, a presence that connected them in a way he couldn’t fully grasp or claim.

“Elise, please, just answer me one thing,” he pleaded, clinging to the faintest glimmer of hope. “That night, when you left at dawn… did you know you were carrying my child?”

Her response was a hollow whisper. “…I didn’t know.”

“But even if I had known,” she continued, her tone devoid of warmth, “nothing would have changed.”

His heart sank. “Why?”

“Because I will never… acknowledge that this child is yours. Not even to you.”

The words struck him like a physical blow, tightening his chest as dread pooled in his stomach. “But why?” he asked, desperation creeping into his voice.

Elise’s gaze held him, stripped of love and hate alike, a chilling finality etched into her features. Her silence deepened the tension between them, and instead of answering, she posed a question of her own.

“If I have your child, who will you sell the baby to?”

The accusation hung heavy in the air, sharp and painful. Her words pierced through him, igniting a mix of anger and anguish. How could she think that of him? He opened his mouth to defend himself, but no words came. He could see the wounds in her eyes, the distrust that had formed a barrier between them, and it shattered his heart all over again.

***

The snow hadn’t stopped falling.

Outside the window, the landscape lay blanketed in a thick layer of white, serene yet suffocating. Elise watched as Irrien’s servants toiled tirelessly in the garden, shoveling the heavy snow that threatened to freeze solid by nightfall. Such snowfall was a rarity in the southern region, where flurries might only visit once a decade, transforming the world into a glistening wonderland.

It had been three days since she had arrived at the estate.

In that short time, a few things had changed, the most significant being her room. When she awoke, she found herself in a different space altogether. Genovia had arranged for her to move to a new bedroom, one with windows that invited the outside in, allowing her to breathe a little easier. This room, close to the north gate, was a far cry from the locked, windowless chamber she had known before. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Elise felt a flicker of hope.

She had slept nearly a day and a half straight, enveloped in a cocoon of warmth and safety. During that time, the doctor had made several visits, ensuring her recovery. Each time, Elise would take her medicine, the bitterness fading into a haze as she drifted back to sleep. Occasionally, she’d awaken long enough to nibble on a few bites of fruit before surrendering to the sweet embrace of slumber once more.

Through it all, Rezette had remained by her side.

The last three weeks without him felt like a distant memory, almost dreamlike, as his presence once again enveloped her in a familiar warmth. The only notable change was their location; they were now in Norella instead of Rotiara. Yet they still shared the same space, moving through their days together.

From the moment she had first awakened, however, Elise had resolutely avoided his touch. She was especially adamant about it during moments of vulnerability—changing or bathing—fearing that if he saw her bare body, he might reach for her again. An instinctive certainty gripped her: she needed to keep her child as far from him as possible.

“If I have your child, who will you sell the baby to?”

Three days had passed since she posed that question, and Rezette had offered no response. The silence stung, a cowardly evasion. He could have at least denied it.

Since then, she had caught him glancing at her abdomen with a gaze that betrayed a conflict of emotions—longing and distress battling for dominance. But when he looked at the child, his expression turned disturbingly cold.

Mealtimes had become the hardest moments to endure. Ever since she had first noticed her nausea, the mere smell of food was enough to churn her stomach. She could see the darkness in his eyes whenever she struggled to eat. Though he quickly masked his feelings, Elise could tell that something was amiss.

That was not how someone looked at their own child.

A fresh wound opened in her heart, raw and aching. So he truly has no love for the baby.

The child was his flesh and blood, yet he could dismiss the baby so easily, and that realization hurt her more than words could express. Rezette’s concern had always been solely about her—about Elise herself.

“When does the morning sickness usually subside?” His voice carried from beyond the half-open door, his tone filled with impatience as he pestered the physician.