After I Died, My Husband Went Mad - Chapter 297

So the one who had stolen away Dehart’s childhood—the person who had forced him to endure years of loneliness and suffering—turned out to be Sebelia’s father.

A cold shock ran through her, her heart turning to ice. Her mind was a tangle of emotions and memories, leaving her at a loss for words.

It wasn’t as if Sebelia bore any responsibility for what happened. Silas had never truly acted as her father, and she had no reason to feel guilty about his actions.

But human beings were never purely rational.

If only I had realized sooner… No. That’s not it.

Even if she’d known the truth earlier, what could she have done? If she had known, would she even have been able to ask Dehart to help her seek revenge?

Her thoughts swirled, leaving her dizzy.

As she tried to steady herself, Claude approached and handed her something—a letter from Rossel.

“He asked me to give this to you when you woke up.”

She accepted the envelope without a word. If her guess was correct, the letter would contain news about Marquis Wheddon’s transfer to Lockwood.

No matter what, Silas remained the most troublesome figure in her entire life.

She pressed her lips together and traced the edge of the envelope with her thumb.

“You’re still not fully recovered, so try to rest for now. Watts will stop by again to check on you soon, so try not to fall asleep.”

Still dazed, Sebelia nodded without really thinking, like a wind-up doll. Claude left the room, leaving her alone in the quiet.

She managed to lift her head to gaze out the window.

The new room on the first floor offered the most peaceful view she had ever seen. Outside, flowers of every color swayed in the breeze.

It was the perfect scene for clearing her mind. Slowly, Sebelia pushed herself up from the bed.

Click. She opened the window, and the wind carried in a sweet fragrance. Leaning on the sill, she breathed deeply.

The flowers are so beautiful.

She didn’t need to ask who was responsible for the garden’s beauty. Turning the envelope in her hands, her gaze grew troubled.

Rustle. Her trembling fingers broke the seal, and a shimmering powder scattered into the air.

The letter inside was surprisingly brief. The pale blue stationery was as delicate as the envelope, and carried a gentle scent.

As her blue eyes skimmed over the affectionate greeting, a knock at the door was followed by a low, familiar voice slipping into the room.

“Bella, may I come in?”

“Ah.”

Startled, Sebelia quickly slipped the letter between the books stacked on the table and smoothed her hair.

“Just a second.”

Dehart waited patiently outside the door until she told him to enter. When he stepped inside, Sebelia noticed that he looked even more refreshed than he had that morning.

The shadows beneath his eyes had disappeared, replaced by a contented smile. He looked happier than anyone else in the world as he raised a basket in his arms.

“These are all foods the doctor approved. You don’t have to worry—eat as much as you want.”

Dehart moved the table to the window, and Sebelia watched anxiously, worried the books might fall.

“These are sweets from a famous bakery in the capital. The bread is from the shop we visited last time. And this luxurious box was a gift from Prince Shateian. Or rather, Crown Prince now.”

Dehart continued, pushing aside a gold-trimmed box.

“I hear the imperial chef made it himself, but if it’s that special, you can always eat it later.”

Sebelia stared at the box sitting atop the book hiding her letter. When she finally turned, she saw Dehart watching her, a faint frown on his face.

“…You’ve been so quiet. Did I do something to upset you?”

“No, it’s nothing. Really. My head’s just a bit foggy.”

“Is that so? Well, at least you don’t have a fever.”

He pressed a gentle hand to her cheek and then to her forehead. His touch made her heart pound and her thoughts spin.

Surely he must know by now that her father—Marquis Wheddon—was responsible for the deaths of his parents, and had even tried to kill him. That greed and malice had ruined his life.

So why did he seem so calm?

Caught between hope and fear, elation and guilt, Sebelia hesitantly reached up and covered the hand Dehart rested on her cheek.