My Ruin to You - Chapter 67

Outside the window, snowflakes swirled violently.

Crackle, crackle— The old brick fireplace, weathered by time, cast a dim glow as it warmed the room. Roseline’s gaze swept over the apron hanging on the wall and the worn table smudged with fingerprints before settling on the man seated beside her.

Maybe it was the fever, or maybe it was just that today had been too cruel. But the man who had told her to just ask now struck her as unbearably irritating. Or maybe she was just done holding back. Fine. If he wants me to speak, then I’ll speak.

She pushed away the hand that had been gently stroking her hair and sat up straight.

“There was something I’ve been wanting to ask you.”

The old iron bed creaked—a low groan—as Valen gave a slow nod. Roseline swallowed dryly, fists clenched tight in the blanket.

“You knew, didn’t you? That I was going to be sent to the Marquis’s clinic.”

His brows lifted slightly, as if surprised by the question, then settled back into place.

“Of course.”

“And back then… did you also know about the experiment?”

His steel-gray eyes lingered on her, slow and deliberate—taking in her fever-flushed eyelids, her clouded irises, her tightly pressed lips, even the way her hands gripped the blanket like it was the only thing keeping her from falling apart.

As if searching for every crack in her composure, his gaze traced the fractures in her emotions with unbearable patience.

“Were you disappointed that I didn’t warn you?”

“Disappointed? That’s not even—!”

The words surged up, bitter and scalding, but she forced them back down.

“…No. That’s not what I meant.”

If she was being fair, it wasn’t entirely his fault. If it were me, she thought, I would’ve stopped him the second I heard he was being sent to that hellhole. But that was her way—not his. She couldn’t demand he act the same.

“Why didn’t you keep going?”

“…That was out of line. I think I just want to blame someone right now.”

She bit back the rest, shaking her head before burrowing back under the covers, turning toward the wall. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing sleep to take her—but barely a moment passed before she shot upright again, not even giving Valen a chance to pull the blanket back. Her glare could have burned through steel.

“Actually, you are to blame. How could you do that to me?”

You were cruel. No—that whole marriage was the problem. Did you ever once mention marrying me? An engagement? You said nothing. Since when does a marriage happen without the other person even knowing? Fine. Let’s say it does. What if I wasn’t ready? And what if, after spending time together, we realized it wouldn’t work? How could you leave me with nowhere to go? You knew—you knew—how easily your words could destroy my life. So how dare you?

The words that had been lodged like a knot deep inside her came pouring out in a torrent. As Roseline fumed and vented her anger, Valen remained perfectly still, watching her with quiet intensity. Her ragged breaths gradually steadied, rising and falling until, finally, he spoke.

“I missed you.”

“……”

“I thought if I did that, you’d come to me at least once.”

His expression was calm, his voice measured.

For someone who had upended her life, it was an absurdly romantic excuse.

She hadn’t expected that. Roseline bit her lip and turned her head away, as if dodging the words. It was a ridiculous reason—cowardly, even—and yet, strangely, the will to argue and resent him had drained away.

“You could’ve just told me to crawl back…”

But there were still too many lingering wounds to just let it all go. Hearing her grumble, the corner of his mouth lifted faintly. There was something unsettlingly satisfied in that lazy smile—like a predator who had just finished a successful hunt.

And well, he had.

Whatever he had been imagining when he was so sure she’d come crawling back, the sight of her now—worn down to rags—wasn’t far from it.

Roseline let her head drop. A heavy sigh spilled over the blanket, and Valen reached out, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.