Chapter 254
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.
She was a little curious to see what Cain would look like holding the baby, so when Charlotte silently asked for permission, Agatha stepped aside without complaint. And just as Charlotte hoped, Cain holding the baby was…
“You’re impossibly awkward….”
She almost laughed out loud at his awkward posture.
Cain’s hand was so large it could easily support the baby’s entire head and then some. His muscular forearm seemed almost comically out of place, nearly as thick as the baby’s whole torso.
He was just holding a child, but somehow it was the funniest sight Agatha had ever seen.
“Please, take him back quickly.”
Cain’s face grew even paler. He looked genuinely worried he might somehow hurt the child with his massive arms. Agatha did her best to stifle a smile as she gently took the baby from him.
The baby, shuffled from one person to another, started to look increasingly uncomfortable. His little face twisted, and his shoulders trembled as if he might burst into tears at any second.
Cain, flustered, blurted.
“See, look! He’s about to cry, isn’t he?”
“Well, what did you expect? If you never hold your own child, of course he’s going to cry the first time you do.”
“…That’s….”
Cain stammered, his pale face suddenly turning bright red. Agatha’s playful reproach hit the mark.
“I just thought maybe me being close to him wouldn’t help.”
Cain scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. It was a clumsy excuse, but it was also the truth.
“And if his own father can’t be good for him, who can?”
She really did want Cain to meet their baby’s gaze without flinching—to pour all the warmth and love he could into this child, no matter what had happened between them.
Cain nodded.
“Yes. I understand. If that’s what you want, Agatha, I’ll try—really try—to hold him as much as I can.”
Did holding a baby really require this much effort and determination? Agatha couldn’t help but tilt her head at his awkward promise.
Still, when Cain reached out again—this time a little calmer—he carefully took the baby from her arms.
Watching this broad-shouldered, muscle-bound man sweat while holding a baby barely bigger than his hand, Agatha had to admit: it wasn’t so much moving as it was comical.
But not in an unpleasant way. There was something endearing about it, too—almost cute, she realized with a quiet smile.
It was a peaceful evening.
A warm, safe house, a beloved child, a host of loyal attendants and guards ready to give their lives for this tiny life—and Cain himself, so overwhelmed by love for their child that he didn’t know what to do.
If she could freeze this moment in time, Agatha wondered if she would ever feel so happy again.
Of course, beneath this fragile peace, the unresolved issues remained—problems between her and Cain, the missing knights, Esther’s fate, and the tangled secrets behind the late Duke’s death all waited like thorns to tear it apart.
But just for this moment, Agatha let herself be content.
“Waaah!”
In the end, the baby burst into tears in his stiff father’s arms. Cain’s face turned blue with panic, and Charlotte quickly took the child back, expertly soothing him.
“I’ve prepared a bath to help you relax.”
“Thank you.”
Charlotte, determined not to disturb Agatha’s rest, slipped away into the adjoining nursery with the baby. Even though only a thin door separated them, the crying quieted almost immediately.
Agatha watched as the maids carried in warm water for her bath and thought how clever it was that the lady of the house always had a separate room next to the master bedroom just for such things.
“I’ll leave you to rest, then.”
“Yes, you must be tired, too.”
“I’m fine. I only care about your health, Agatha.”
“We both haven’t had a proper rest in over a month. We’re equally tired.”
“It’s not the same. I didn’t give birth to a child.”
“…”
“When a woman gives birth, it’s as if she puts her life on the line. …I remember how much pain my mother was in when she gave birth to Esther.”
He glanced briefly at the nursery door, his expression shadowed by a memory. Though he quickly composed himself, Agatha could hear both old and ongoing pain in the words he let slip.
“You’re worried about Esther, aren’t you?”
Agatha summoned the courage to speak the name she hadn’t uttered in months—not since seeing the tragedy in Arta. She’d been afraid to bring up his pain, afraid to touch a wound he still carried.
Cain’s expression froze, hardening at the mention of that name.
“…Yes.”
Sensing the heavy mood, Liana quickly ushered the servants out and excused herself, promising to return as soon as Agatha called for her bath.
“But I’ll find her. Soon.”
“Yes, you will find her. You will.”
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