A Way to Confirm Your Husband’s True Feelings - Chapter 78

Caesar was walking into the drawing room that Freya had just left. Watching the door close behind him, Beatrice wrung her tense hands. As she had confided to her sister just moments ago, it was finally time for an honest conversation with her husband.

“Caesar, first…”

As she turned toward the sofa to guide him to a seat, a loud thud made her instinctively turn around.

“Caesar?”

There he was—her husband, down on both knees on the floor. The sight of such a towering man kneeling with a face full of utter despair filled Beatrice with deep bewilderment.

“W-What are you doing? Get up. What if someone sees you? Your dignity—”

“I was wrong, Beatrice.”

What came from her husband’s mouth was an unconditional confession of guilt. The desperate sincerity of it was so overwhelming that it instantly silenced her.

“As you know, I come from humble beginnings… I don’t really understand how nobles apologize. So I can only ask for forgiveness like this. But this much, at least, I say with all my heart. It was all my fault.”

But regardless of his sincerity, this wasn’t the kind of unconditional submission Beatrice wanted. She didn’t want him to take all the blame. That would change nothing from how it had been.

What she wanted was communication, not to stand above him or dominate him.

“If it will calm your anger, you can hit me. I’d even endure being stoned in the street if it meant you’d forgive me. So please…”

But Caesar, slightly missing the point, continued his misguided apology.

In his world, apologies and penance had always looked like this, so he didn’t realize what was wrong.

To him, every wrongdoing required a matching price, and for hurting his wife’s heart, he couldn’t even begin to guess what that price should be.

So Caesar offered the only thing he had: himself. Honor, dignity, pride—none of it existed in his mind at that moment.

He naively believed that punishment would earn him forgiveness, blindly thinking that if only she didn’t leave, he could lose an arm and still endure.

“If… If you could reconsider the divorce… I can’t imagine life without you anymore. Even if I’m just a husband in name, it’s enough. Just… please stay as my wife on paper… and if I’m not enough for you, even if you take a lover… it will hurt, but I’ll bear it somehow. So please…”

As the sob he tried to suppress nearly broke out, Caesar clenched his teeth and struck his own thigh with a fist. The dull thump rang out painfully, and Beatrice, feeling the shock more than surprise, quickly knelt in front of him.

“Alright, alright. Just get up, Caesar. Let’s sit on the sofa. As long as I’m still your wife, if your knees so easily meet the ground, then mine will too. Don’t forget that.”

Seeing his wife kneel because of him, Caesar scrambled to his feet.

Even then, he clung tightly to the hand she offered, his grip so strong it made her bones ache. When she winced, he immediately loosened it, but didn’t let go.

Beatrice led him to the sofa. The sight of a large, utterly deflated man following her like a child was almost comical, and she almost laughed.

But she pulled herself together. Seeing Caesar in such a broken state, she knew at least one of them needed to stay composed.

“I know how sincere your apology is. But what I want isn’t for you to just blindly say everything was your fault. We both made mistakes. And last night, I didn’t even acknowledge mine—I just got angry. So what we need now is… to talk.”

Caesar, still gripping her hand in both of his like someone who had no will of his own, nodded slowly. Did he really understand what she meant? She wasn’t sure, but Beatrice continued anyway.

“You said earlier that it was all your fault. Can you tell me… what it is you think you did wrong?”

That’s where she wanted to start. But as expected, Caesar couldn’t speak right away.

It was obvious he had begged for forgiveness just because she was angry, not because he had thought it through. Beatrice sighed softly.

“Actually, I should be the one to apologize first. Do you remember the day after we arrived in the capital? The day we went to visit His Majesty?”

Caesar nodded again. Of course he remembered. That was the day Beatrice’s behavior had started to change.

“Well… that day, I overheard your conversation with Sir Schultz. I followed you out to bring your handkerchief, and I heard your voices. I was curious about what you’d say about me when I wasn’t there. It was wrong, and I regret it. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry, Caesar.”

Rather than being surprised she had overheard them, Caesar’s face paled instantly as he tried to remember what he had said to Dillon that day.