Chapter 217
“Hold me.”
When Freesia softly whispered those words, Izar bit his lower lip hard enough to feel the sting.
The woman illuminated by the starlight was beautiful.
A radiant, glowing flower, but also a sharp blade gently scratching at the surface of his heart.
When was the last time he held her? The last time he tasted her lips?
In the distant memory of a long-forgotten early summer, he had taken her without hesitation. He had kissed her, indulging in the ecstasy that tightened every muscle in his body.
But now, even the thought of holding her hand made his mouth go dry with fear.
Everything he gave her was a weapon capable of ending her life—a fact he was reminded of every time he saw the scar on her pale wrist.
The scar she had left as a warning, a constant reminder.
“You want me to hold you in this situation? Do you intend to paint me as a beast?”
He deliberately responded using formal language, hoping it would bring him back to his senses.
He could just leave the room. That would be the end of it.
But he knew better than anyone that he couldn’t resist her temptation or walk out of this room.
Even now, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the way her bare shoulder peeked out, her cheeks gently flushed.
“But the baby is stable now…”
Freesia murmured, stroking her lower abdomen. This wasn’t their first time sharing a bed, and she should have been able to act shamelessly, but she didn’t know why her mouth was burning with heat.
If she were the kind wife who forgave her husband’s betrayals, wasn’t it natural to share a bed before he left?
‘So this isn’t an unnatural reaction,’ she told herself.
This isn’t because I’m suddenly swayed by him.
“You’re leaving, and I don’t know when you’ll return.”
“I’ll return as soon as I can. Even if I have to search every inch of the empire…”
Izar clenched his teeth as he spoke, brushing his hand roughly through his hair. The woman standing before him was too alluring, and his patience was quickly draining away, like water seeping through cracks in the rocks.
When Freesia pressed herself against him, his entire body tensed with heat.
“Even if I’m the one asking, will you still refuse me?”
Her face flushed red all the way to the tips of her ears as she whispered. She silently prayed that the baby in her womb wouldn’t hear those words.
But once she was in Izar’s arms, her inner thighs tingled involuntarily. A thirst for physical pleasure, long forgotten, was awakening inside her.
And that pleasure—she only knew it through him. She craved the sensation of being held tightly by him, of him filling her completely.
Freesia blinked up at him and softly said,
“I have moments when I want to be held too…”
When he saw the desire reflected in her pale green eyes, Izar realized something.
From the start, he had always given her whatever she wanted, no matter how strange or dangerous the request was.
The days when he could easily resist her had long since passed.
A breath filled with frustration and longing escaped him. His throat burned, and he couldn’t stop the mixture of anger and pleading from spilling out.
“Why do you confuse me like this?”
“Izar.”
“You once called me horrible, pushed me away, and didn’t hesitate to try to end your own life.”
If she had told him outright to die before her eyes, it might have been easier. At least then, he could have understood her anger.
If she had commanded it, he would have gladly obeyed.
That kind of anger made sense to him.
“You agreed to the portrait as if you were doing me a favor. You even chose a name for our baby…”
But the most painful part was when Freesia occasionally treated him with sweetness and warmth.
Nova.
When she said that name, no one—not even God—could have known how deeply he struggled to breathe from the overwhelming happiness.
Had she forgiven him?
Maybe naming their child ‘Nova’ meant that she truly intended to live a long life with him, not as someone on borrowed time.
He tried to crush those hopes, to stomp them out, but no matter what, they kept taking root.
But whenever he looked into her eyes, his heart always sank under the weight of reality.
Izar cupped her lovely yet terrifying face and whispered,
“You don’t love me anymore. You haven’t forgiven me either, have you?”
“……”
“Even if I wanted to make you happy, you have no intention of allowing it.”
He wanted to stay by her side.
But being near her, while unable to grasp her feelings, was agonizing. If he had any pride left, he should have rejected her.
He should have used the baby as an excuse and left.
“And yet, here I am.”
Despite everything, he foolishly clung to the hope that maybe—just maybe—this was a fleeting whim on her part, and she truly wanted him again.
The thought that this could be his last chance made his mind go blank.
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