The Abandoned and Terminally Ill Lady Married a Monster - Chapter 82

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Chapter 82

“Just us. No Mother tagging along, and even if Father miraculously wakes up, it’s still just us.” His eyes, their corners sharper than usual, held a determined glint as he issued his invitation. This was the first time he’d so directly asked me on a date, and it felt strangely exhilarating.

I hesitantly nodded. He still seemed dissatisfied, his brow furrowing slightly. “Should I just send them both away for a convalescent trip?”

“What?”

“They’re getting on in years. They’ve been talking about moving to the countryside to live a quiet life together. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to grant their wish.”

What do they call that in other countries? Abandoning your elderly parents in the mountains… not abandoning, exactly. But the ominous way he muttered made it sound like just that.

I stared at him, momentarily dumbfounded. He seemed serious.

“They say it’s not good for married couples to live with their parents for too long. It’s a universal truth, apparently. We should probably follow that rule, mmmph…”

My hand flew to his mouth, cutting him off mid-sentence. He stopped, looking at me with slight surprise. Mortified, I could feel my cheeks burning. He didn’t remove my hand. He stared at me, momentarily stunned, then chuckled softly, as if amused.

‘Don’t laugh, you idiot.’

Once your parents are gone, I’ll be leaving too. And you’ll be alone in this huge mansion. And you don’t even know it. Glaring at him, I tried to pull my hand away. He quickly raised his hand and caught mine, pressing it against his lips. Something soft and yielding smeared across my palm. My face flushed even brighter.

“L-Let go.”

I tried to pull away, but it was no use. He continued to press his lips against my palm, seemingly enjoying himself. Finally, he released my hand, but it didn’t stray far. He nuzzled his cheek against it.
“You put it there first.”

That’s not called putting my hand on your lips, it’s called covering your mouth. It seemed my hand wasn’t going to regain its freedom any time soon. Slightly regretting my impulsive action, I gave up on retrieving my hand. Instead, I said what I had originally intended. “Don’t even think about sending Mother and Father away. We should all live together.”

“Do we really have to?”

Anyone would think Mother was my own. I wiggled my fingers, pinching his cheek lightly. It was softer than I expected.

“Mother makes a lot of strange requests, so it must be bothersome. And the villa in the countryside is much nicer than here, so it wouldn’t be bad, ow!”

Kin needed to be disciplined for his disobedience. I pinched him again, and he winced. I worried for a moment that I’d pinched him too hard, but then I saw the slight twitch of his eyes and lips and pinched him harder.

“I like living with Mother.”

To be precise, it was, ‘I like you living with Mother,’ but what I’d said wasn’t entirely untrue, so I didn’t correct myself.

I genuinely did like living with her. I liked living like this. I’d once read about someone who woke up from a happy dream and cried. When asked why they were sad after such a pleasant dream, they replied that they cried because they knew it was impossible. I used to understand that sentiment. Now, it felt different.

Even if a happy dream came true, it might not bring joy. Some dreams are happier left as dreams. Those, you could wake up from and cry. But this… this felt like clinging to time I couldn’t hold. Kin pouted. “You like living together?”

“…Yes.”

He stared at me for a moment, then pulled my hand to his waist, my forehead resting against his collarbone. “If you like it, who am I to argue?” A large, strong hand patted my back in a familiar rhythm.

“But you have to promise to watch the roses with me. Just us. You promised.”

I couldn’t bring myself to answer. I simply closed my eyes, pretending to be overcome by sleep.

***

I woke up with a throbbing headache, just like yesterday. I thought the pain had subsided after all the commotion, but it had returned with a vengeance.

‘Did I overexert myself, like Kin said?’

But my condition felt different. Even after receiving my terminal diagnosis, I rarely experienced severe headaches or coughed up blood. I had started coughing up blood a year ago, but it only happened every one or two months. I had last coughed up blood just a week ago, so it was strange to have another episode yesterday.

I got out of bed, carefully and discreetly testing my body. I was in pain, but I thought I could manage the outing. Uneasy, but dismissing it as fatigue, I pushed aside thoughts about my health for the time being.

The house was bustling with activity as everyone prepared for the flower viewing. Kin and I, already ready, were taking a stroll outside while we waited for Mother to finish her preparations. As we passed the tower, Father suddenly poked his head out of the window.