Chapter 237
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.
As soon as my thoughts reached that point, suddenly…
“Dana, love me. Not anyone else, not anything else—just me, for who I am.”
I felt like I finally understood why he’d said that.
Is he just exhausted from suppressing his old self and pretending to be the kind of man I could love?
Now that we’re back home, surrounded by people who remember who he used to be, maybe it’s become harder for him to keep playing the devoted husband for my sake.*
That thought was disappointing—and yet I wondered, could someone really fake it so perfectly?
I thought about it for a long moment, then finally opened my mouth—though I’d promised myself not to say anything more tonight.
“Killian.”
“…Yes?”
“We’ve been through a lot, but no matter what, you’ve been a good husband to me.”
“……”
“You may have lied to me a thousand times, but I don’t believe your love or your care was ever a lie.”
“……”
“So please, just keep being a good husband to me.”
For a long moment, the silence was absolute. Then I heard a faint rustling from the other side of the room—clothes shifting.
“If things really are too hard for you, you can do whatever you need to. I’ll still—ah…”
Just as I was about to turn and face him, I heard his footsteps coming closer. Suddenly, a strong arm came down over me.
Killian pulled me into an embrace so fierce, I almost couldn’t breathe. The man who’d spent the whole day keeping his distance now clung to me as if we were a single body.
“Ah, Dana…”
He buried his face beneath my chin, his breath hot on my neck.
Wait—that’s not just breath.
There was something warm trailing down my skin.
“Killian… are you…?”
I reached to touch his cheek where it pressed against my neck. My fingertips came away wet.
“…Are you crying?”
God. I’d never seen this man cry—not through the hardest times, not even when he’d sold his conscience or broken his own convictions for my sake. He’d gotten sad, yes, but never once shed tears.
“Ah—”
I tried to sit up and reach for the lamp, but the moment he sensed I might leave, he yanked me tighter into his arms.
“Killian, wait—hang on. That’s not it…”
All I wanted was to hold him and offer comfort, but he wouldn’t let me move, hugging me from behind and pouring his grief out onto my shoulder.
“I just wanted to be a good husband to you. That’s all I ever wanted.”
“Killian…”
“I’ve only just taken back what was mine. So why do I have to feel like a criminal?”
I still didn’t have all the answers for why he’d acted so out of character today, but when I heard the raw injustice in his voice, I realized at least why he’d gotten so drunk and let his guard down.
‘So all the guilt he’s been repressing finally broke through.’
He must have kept it all bottled up, unable to deal with the guilt of killing to survive. Now, back home, after drinking, his defenses finally crumbled and everything spilled out.
He doesn’t even like alcohol. How desperate must he have been to drink so heavily the moment we escaped enemy territory?
I felt bad for not understanding his heart sooner.
“Killian… It’s okay to be tormented by guilt. It just means you’re human…”
“I’m not a criminal.”
I’d tried to comfort him with the priest’s words from my memories, but he flatly rejected the label.
“How can it be a sin for us to be together? What am I supposed to apologize for, and to whom? I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“You’re right. You’re absolutely right.”
Maybe words weren’t what he needed—maybe just an ear to listen and arms to hold him would do more good than any advice or borrowed comfort.
With some effort, I managed to turn in his arms. I wanted to offer a safe place for him to cry, but he was so much bigger than me that, in the end, I was the one clinging to him.
I awkwardly wrapped my arms around his waist and patted his back, just like he did for me whenever I cried. And I whispered the words he’d once said to me:
“It’s over now. Just like you said—let’s leave the past behind us and keep moving forward, my love.”
“My love…”
He echoed my last words, then suddenly hugged me so tightly I could barely breathe, as if trying to merge himself into me.
“This is where I belong.”
“Yes, this is your place.”
I said, letting him cling as much as he needed. This sort of desperate attachment felt a little unlike Killian.
I had a faint idea of why he’d been acting so strangely, and at the same time, I knew I didn’t truly understand.
Even after coming home and reclaiming his place, my husband was still a mystery to me.
Discussion
0 CommentsNo comments yet.