Chapter 18
“I’m not happy.”
“……”
I am unbelievably foolish—your one passing word makes me rejoice. A thoughtless remark from you shakes me.
“But still,”
Though it’s still spring… it feels as if many seasons have already passed. The emotions that pushed and hit me without rest were exhausting. While everything in the world is soaked in life, I am still in winter. I throw myself against the biting wind. I wait for spring. I struggle desperately so I do not freeze to death.
“I want to stay by your side.”
“……”
“Even if you hate me, even if I disgust you.”
Sometimes I wonder—if you had been honest with me, if you had told me I hurt you, would things have turned out differently? But it’s already in the past. Don’t regret it, I tell myself over and over again.
One must take responsibility for one’s own mistakes. Yet neither of us did. Our feelings should have been spoken to each other. Yet neither of us did. And even if he realizes it now, what would change? I know, yet I can’t do anything. Things have already worsened beyond anyone’s control. And still, you push me like this… You step forward yourself, while hiding your thoughts just like before. You corner me, even though neither of us can change anything. I laugh at your cruel kindness.
Isilia opened her mouth.
“Someone might say that a one-sided love, that something like this isn’t love but obsession.”
You might think so too,
“I’m sorry.”
But I call it love. Even when I resent you, even when I pity myself,
“The truth is, I don’t know what to do.”
I don’t know how to stop—what am I supposed to do? My love is clumsy. People say love isn’t something done alone. Isilia turned her head. The children smiled at each other. His light-blue hair shattered like sunlight—so lovable.
“But if you tell me to stop, then I will.”
Ruian would never do that. Even knowing this, I still say it—what kind of twisted mind is that? Is it the same feeling he had when he asked me if I was happy? A carriage approached the mansion in the distance. I recognized the crest and laughed. So Jordan failed to keep Marillian again. Not long ago, I told myself I’d throw my whole body into this until the end—yet I’m always fickle. Isilia turned her head. Ruian was watching. In the end, I don’t know why he said such things to me, and even if I did know, it wouldn’t be pleasant.
“Ruian.”
“……”
“Shall we get a divorce?”
If that’s how badly you want to push me away. If that’s what you want. There’s no point dragging this out. It will only hurt the children. If every path leads to wounds, then let it end with the least damage. …I wonder if I am the cause of all this. Waves of regret crashed over her, but nothing changed. I began it; you continued it. If you tell me to stop, then I will. Isilia lifted her head. Ruian looked at her.
“It’s getting dark.”
“……”
She grabbed him before he could leave. Meeting those cold blue eyes looking down at her, she spoke again.
“Ruian, if you tell me to stop, I can stop.”
If you want it, I can. With no reply, she kept talking to him. Cornering the one who turned away. She felt her heart shatter into pieces. Even so, she spoke again and conveyed her meaning… and Ruian—
“Let’s go back.”
—turned and walked away.
Should I drag this out? No. It would only be more pathetic. She called out to him. He didn’t look back. Why? I gave you the chance. I said the words you wanted to hear—why? Why do you crush even my soul? Gathering the ragged remains of her heart, she looked at him. He never turned around.
“Let’s get a divorce.”
She said it. Isilia closed her eyes. Her trembling hand pressed against her chest. The pain choked her; she couldn’t think. She forced her eyes open, and there he was—walking away.
“……”
Why am I doing this? Isilia smiled—a smile showing just how deeply she was wounded. A smile meant for him, in case he turned around. Even as she handed him her shattered heart, Ruian ignored her. What do you call this? She should chase him, but her feet wouldn’t move. Her body refused to take that final step—it was terrified of what would come once she did. She couldn’t move.
What do you call this feeling? I spit out words that should have been like coughing up blood—exactly what he wanted to hear—and he shows no reaction. Did I really do something so wrong? A selfish thought rose. Maybe he wants to return the pain I gave him. I want to resent him. Is it still not enough? I’m already hurt enough—so why won’t you… My thoughts tangled and snapped. I wanted to hate him, despise him, and yet—he ignored the very words that cut me to pieces—
—and somehow, I found that lovable.
Why am I like this? What is this conflicting feeling—this twisted mixture of love and pain?
“……”
Dragging this out would do no good. And yet… Isilia sighed. She had agonized over the thought of him nodding to divorce. And strangely, she felt relieved.
“Mom.”
Her son, who resembled his father, called to her. His young eyes were full of concern, and Isilia smiled. His gaze moved to her hand pressed over her chest.
“Does it hurt?”
He hesitated, looking at her. Such a sweet child. Our… our children. Her chest stung sharply, as if someone were poking her with needles. As she winced, Johan hurried closer.
“Mom, are you hurt?”
She smiled, saying she was fine. Johan tilted his head. Looking gently at him, she felt warmth around her hand. El was staring, wearing the same expression. She opened her mouth as if to speak, then frowned, raising her hand to her cheek—tapping her own cheek with her finger. The child saw through her lie. El tugged at her hand, demanding the truth. Isilia couldn’t help but laugh.
“A little.”
When she smiled again, El puffed her cheeks—scolding her for smiling while in pain. The child looked so adorable. Isilia stroked her head. El pulled her hand away, annoyed by Isilia’s frivolity. Johan asked why. Isilia just smiled and took his hand.
“……”
El did not ask why—she just walked away. Had she sensed everything between her parents? Or just the lie of not being in pain? The child was perceptive—perhaps she knew both. If she truly understood what was happening…
Isilia closed her eyes. What must that feel like—for a child? Would the world seem to collapse?
To see her mother and father—
Her chest ached. Guilt crashed down on her.
She opened her eyes. The blackness vanished. Johan stood in a field of flowers, looking at her. She raised her free hand and stroked his head. His eyes softened.
“Johan.”
“Mm?”
“…Never mind. Let’s go inside.”
“Yeah!”
What should I do with these precious children? As they neared the mansion, she saw her daughter waiting. When their eyes met, El stiffened before approaching and taking her hand. What should I do, with these adorable children? She laughed; they stared curiously. Ignoring their looks, she walked on. One child in each hand.
The butler approached, bowing, saying he would escort them upstairs. Johan giggled. They entered the mansion—and Isilia froze.
Ruian and Marillian were facing each other.
The children stopped and looked at her. She tried to let go of their hands so they could go ahead—yet they held tighter. Stubborn. She sighed.
“……”
“……”
What are they doing? Showing affection? She frowned. If you want to confess your feelings, do it somewhere else—not where everyone walks through. This isn’t good for the children. With that judgment, she tightened her grip on their hands and tried to go upstairs—but then her eyes met Marillian’s.
Isilia turned away, ignoring her. She opened her mouth to tell the children to go ahead—
But Marillian spoke.
