My Husband Never Dies - Chapter 68

Until the sharp click of the closing door echoed through the room, Evelyn somehow managed to remain standing. The moment it shut, she gripped the sides of the cradle with both hands and collapsed to the floor.

“Ugh…”

How much time had passed? A soft whimper rose from above her head. The moment that crushing presence disappeared, the baby began crying again. A hollow laugh escaped Evelyn’s lips. Still leaning against the cradle, she slowly pushed herself upright.

Tear-filled green eyes looked up at her. Evelyn tugged the blanket over, wiping the baby’s tears away with rough, careless motions before speaking coldly.

“Quit crying.”

The baby, too young to understand, only continued to fuss. Tiny arms reached into the empty air, waving aimlessly. The way those little lips kept opening and closing looked unmistakably like a plea for milk.

Evelyn let out a long sigh.

“…Wait. I won’t let you starve.”

She rang the bell for Laura. She had never looked after a child. Never raised one. The baby would be far better off in Laura’s hands.

As though she’d been waiting just outside, Laura hurried into the bedroom almost immediately. After a quick look at the baby, she hurried back out to fetch more goat’s milk.

This was nothing more than a small kindness.

Evelia Locke knew better than anyone how unbearable hunger could be. After the old woman who had taken in an abandoned newborn left to die beside a rubbish heap passed away, the four-year-old girl was left alone.

Driven by starvation, she stepped outside that ramshackle house for the first time. Had the women on the streets not reached out to the filthy child who forced spoiled scraps into her mouth while fighting back nausea, Evelia would have died of hunger and disease.

She remembered the rough hands that had willingly given up their own piece of bread so she could eat.

The kindness that offered her shelter from the storm.

The gentle hand that laid a cool cloth across her fever-burning brow.

Those small acts of compassion, gathered one by one, had raised Evelia Locke, the girl who should have died.

She’s only offering this baby one small kindness of the same sort.

“Oh, my! Were you that hungry, little one?”

Holding the gleaming silver nursing bottle, Laura gently wiped away the baby’s tears before guiding the bottle to her lips. As though she’d never cried at all, the baby quietly began to drink.

“My goodness, not even a fuss… Oh? Look, my lady. The little miss won’t take her eyes off you. How precious. She must already know who her mother is.”

Evelyn silently met those bright green eyes before turning away. Strangely, the revulsion that had once twisted inside her was nowhere to be found. In its place, an aching tenderness filled her chest.

At the same time, she knew. She would never be able to dispose of this tiny life.

“I think… Misty would be a good name.”

Because you’re a child of the mist.

As though she somehow understood that she’d just been given her name, the baby broke into a radiant smile.