Chapter 41
Carlos watched his sleeping mother in silence, then gently smoothed her disheveled hair. His gaze dropped to the faint rise and fall of her abdomen.
The womb carrying his child.
Even to the naked eye, there was the slightest swell.
So very carefully, he lowered his hand and placed it over her belly. Thinking of the child curled within, he murmured softly,
“Don’t worry, Mother. I’ll keep the promise I made today.”
After a moment, he straightened. Then he lifted the lid of the brass water pitcher beside the bed. Into the dark water, a fine, pale powder dissolved slowly.
“When your child is born… I’ll cherish and love them dearly.”
His voice, low and sweet, sounded like a lover’s whisper.
Click.
The lid closed with a faint sound.
Carlos pressed a brief kiss to his mother’s forehead, then left the room, heading toward the annex where Emily stayed.
* * *
Morning came. Brunhilde opened her heavy eyes.
Carlos, who had been beside her when she drifted back to sleep, had already left. The space next to her felt empty.
Thinking of the heat of the night before, the uneasy dream that followed, and her son’s comforting words, her throat felt dry.
She poured herself a cup of water and drank it down in one breath. The cool liquid soothed her, calming her heart.
‘It was just a dream. There’s nothing to worry about.’
Trying to settle the lingering chill inside her, she leaned back against the headboard. Her body felt unusually heavy, perhaps from having woken once in the night and been drawn into another peak of exhaustion afterward.
She would sleep a little longer.
After another sip of water, she lay back down and pulled the covers over herself. The memory of her son’s gentle promise in the early dawn eased her mind.
“When this child is born…”
She cradled her abdomen tenderly, thinking,
‘Everything will return to how it was.’
Once the child was born, this forbidden relationship would end. Carlos would return to being her dutiful son, and she would return to her rightful place, as his mother, as Emily’s mother-in-law.
And she would spend the rest of her days as a loving grandmother to both children.
‘…Perhaps not for very long.’
A shadow flickered across her face. But it passed as quickly as it came as she smiled again. She had already made her decision. Carlos would surely resent her if he knew.
“But… I’ve secured his promise.”
He had sworn to protect and love the child. And her son, who valued his word above all else, would surely keep it.
Thinking of that vow, warmth spread through her chest. Brunhilde closed her eyes more peacefully.
‘I’ll sleep just a little longer.’
She would wake around ten and finish knitting the clothes for her grandchildren. As always, she rested a hand over her slightly rounded belly, drifting off while wishing she could soon feel the child move.
…But how long had she slept?
“Mm…”
A faint groan slipped from her throat. Brunhilde opened her eyes to a sudden pain. It was sharp, as if something had kicked her from within.
At first, she thought it might be the baby moving. Her mind, still dulled by sleep, couldn’t grasp the sensation clearly.
But the pain intensified. Her abdomen burned and twisted as though something inside was tearing apart.
Sleep fled like darkness before dawn. Clutching her stomach, she let out a strained cry.
‘Someone… someone…’
Something was terribly wrong inside her body. Inside her womb.
The pain grew fiercer, as if her insides were being ripped and crushed. Gripping the sheets, gasping for breath, she forced out a broken cry,
“S-someone… help me…!”
Fortunately, someone came.
As she drifted in and out of consciousness under the mounting agony, the wrinkled face of the deaf maid appeared before her.
A damp cloth was pressed to her forehead. A hand gripping hers.
The cold air brushing against her legs… the dampness beneath her…
It felt like that familiar, dreadful sensation that had come to her every month since her first bleeding.
‘It’s nothing. It’s nothing…’
She clung desperately to that thought, denying the truth. Just a passing pain. Something that would fade like a fleeting illness.
But the images from her dream kept returning. The black branches tearing into her body. The spreading red beneath her.
Tears streamed down her face. At last, unable to bear it, she forced herself to reach between her legs.
Her fingers came away wet with blood. She went dizzy and screamed like a madman.
“No—no! No!!”
The maid, unable to speak, cried out in alarm and pressed her down, trying to restrain her. But Brunhilde thrashed wildly beneath her.
“This can’t be happening! My child—my child…!”
With desperate strength, she threw the maid off and tore away the covers.
The cloth beneath her was soaked with deep, unmistakable red.
Discussion
0 CommentsNo comments yet.