After I Died, My Husband Went Mad - Chapter 339

“Ow.”

“Tsk. Be careful.”

Dehart gently pulled Sebelia’s hand away from her eyes, carefully examining the swollen skin around them. Thankfully, they hadn’t gotten any worse, just puffy from crying too much.

While he was at it, Dehart checked her face for any other signs of injury. Aside from her teary, swollen eyes, everything else was fine—her cheeks had a healthy glow, her lips were rosy, and her blue eyes, clear and intelligent as always, shone like an autumn sky.

She was beautiful as ever. Captivating, really.

He was so caught up staring into her lake-like eyes that he lost himself for a moment. Then, suddenly, Sebelia grabbed his sleeve tightly.

“Hey.”

“Yeah? What is it?”

Dehart snapped out of his daze and nodded at her.

“Could you… call my name? Just once?”

He tilted his head in slight confusion, but complied.

“Bella.”

“No, not that one.”

“Hmm?”

Seeing that he didn’t understand, Sebelia asked again,

“My real name.”

“…..”

Only then did Dehart understand, and his face turned serious. This wasn’t something she’d ever ask unless she was deeply shaken.

“Why are you asking all of a sudden?”

“Just once. Please?”

“Bella. Bella Ashrent.”

His deep voice floated through the night air.

“That’s not it…”

When Sebelia insisted, he slowly shook his head, then gently pulled his arm free to wrap it around her shoulders.

“Let’s head back to the house first.”

“Dehart, just wait—”

“Let’s get something warm to drink and some rest. We’ll talk after that, okay?”

He figured meeting her mother had shaken her more than she’d realized. Otherwise, why would she ask to be called by a name she’d once thrown away, the name tied to all those painful memories?

With that thought, Dehart picked her up in his arms before she could protest.

“Wha—!”

Suddenly cradled like a princess, Sebelia yelped and gave his shoulder a soft, harmless smack.

“Put me down! At least let me finish what I was saying!”

“Ow! Careful. If you bruise me, who do you think suffers from it, Bella?”

“If you don’t want to get hit, put me down.”

But Dehart just pressed his lips together and silently carried her down the garden path toward the house. Sebelia tried to wriggle free a few times, but his arms were steady and refused to let go.

Only when they finally reached the house did she stop struggling. In a quiet voice, she spoke up.

“My name…”

“Yes, Bella.”

Dehart purposely emphasized her name Bella as he stepped onto the porch.

“It wasn’t my father who named me.”

“…?”

“Not a servant or the butler, either. It wasn’t the uncle who abandoned me, or any of his men.”

Her blue eyes gleamed with an emotion that might’ve been sorrow, or perhaps something more hopeful.

Dehart paused on the steps, then turned away from the house and walked with her over to a gazebo in the garden. He gently set her down on a bench and sat beside her, letting her lean against his shoulder.

The touch of her hair against his cheek tickled, but more than that, the swirl of emotion inside him made it impossible to stay quiet.

“Then who gave you your name?”

After speaking brightly, Sebelia fell silent for a moment, then let out a slow breath. She reached over and laced her fingers with his, letting her heartbeat thrum through their joined hands. Then, with her fingertip, she traced letters on the back of his hand.

Elena.

“My mother gave me my name.”

Dehart bit his lip, closing his eyes for a long moment before pulling her into a gentle embrace—almost out of habit.

And with that, it was as if a dam inside Sebelia had burst.

“When my mother and father were still in love, she told him that if she ever had a daughter, she’d name her Sebelia. If it was a boy, he’d be called Servil; but I was born a girl…”

She was abandoned by her uncle’s men. That much was clear.

When she faltered, Dehart finished the thought for her.

“So Marquis Wheddon must have remembered that name all this time.”