The Abandoned and Terminally Ill Lady Married a Monster - Chapter 94

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I struggled, but Kin’s hold was secure. Mortified, I covered my face with my hands.

“I said, hold on tight.”

How can I hold on tight when I’m being carried like this, wearing a shawl that screams ‘We are family ♥’, all the way to Mother?

Well, it certainly is an effective way to get through the crowd.

The onlookers parted, startled, creating a clear path. Kin strode forward, unfazed. Just as my embarrassment reached a fever pitch, the commotion died down. Kin clicked his tongue. Viscount Bezil, or whatever his name was, was being dragged away by the Guard.

In short, I had been carried through a crowd, in this ridiculous position, wearing this embarrassing shawl, to intervene in a fight that was already over. My face burned with shame.

“Put me down.”

“See? I told you there was nothing to worry about,” he said with a teasing grin, obliging my request. The moment my feet touched the ground, I fled back into the shop. Kin and Mother followed, still bickering.

“You could have taken your time. Maybe used a little more force, gotten yourself investigated by the Guard. Honestly, stop interfering in our marital bliss.”

“Interfering? Let’s be precise. You’re the one interfering. Ailee and I had a prior engagement to shop together.”

Anyone listening would think Ailee married Mother, not me, Kin retorted, handing me a bottle of perfume. “Ailee, what about this one? It’s cute. It’s called ‘Fairy Perfume,’ perfect for you.”

I glared at Kin instead of the perfume. Mother, wearing an expression that clearly said ‘I’ve raised such a wonderful son,’ sighed dramatically.

Then Father chimed in, his voice brimming with excitement. [My dear, you should have seen it! Minerva gave that scoundrel a water slap right across the face and completely obliterated him! I thought she’d go for her usual g***n kick or a punch to the nose, but she must have restrained herself because you were there. ]

A water slap… a g***n kick… a punch to the nose…

The burning in my cheeks faded, replaced by a wave of nausea.

Mother, who had been giving Kin a disapproving look, suddenly broke into a hearty laugh and squeezed between us. I should listen to Mother. If I tell her I want to leave, she might never let me. I might be… overpowered.

“I liked that scented candle earlier. What do you think about putting it in our room?”

“…Y-yes. That sounds lovely.”

It wasn’t difficult to imagine Mother casually restraining me and locking me in a room. In my mind, she said, ‘Nonsense, dear. You need to live. I’ll protect you, no matter what. You just focus on breathing.’

Oh dear. Did I make a mistake marrying into this family?

No, this is a wonderful marriage, a once-in-a-lifetime stroke of luck. Meeting two people who adore me so much is truly a blessing. Actually, three people.

Just as a creeping sense of unease began to prickle at my fingertips, murmurs rippled through the crowd.

“Did you see the Duke just sweep the Duchess off her feet…?”

“I saw it too…”

The whispers washed over me, and my face flushed crimson again. I pinched Kin’s hand hard, a small act of revenge.

***

Kin apologized profusely, at least thirty times, for carrying me in front of everyone. “I don’t care what people say about me, but I hated hearing them speculate about you being mistreated in the ducal house. That’s why I did it. I won’t do it again.”

I finally accepted his apology. How could I stay angry when he said things like that?

Seeing Kin so dejected, I sighed inwardly. He even declared he was done shopping, and I made him promise never to do it again.

By the time we finished, I was utterly exhausted. As the tension drained away, the dull ache that I had been suppressing returned with a vengeance. I gasped, instinctively covering my mouth as if I were about to cough up blood. A wave of foreboding washed over me.

This isn’t just exhaustion.

From coughing up blood yesterday to the persistent pain today, the signs were ominous.

I tried to recall when the bleeding had started. A little over a year ago, perhaps. After a few episodes of hemoptysis and agonizing pain, I had been forced to seek information on my own. Unable to consult a physician, I had relied on books, which was how I’d discovered the nature of the medicine Mother had been giving me. The same book warned that hemoptysis signaled impending death.

Puzzled by my continued survival, I had finally consulted a doctor, who gave me a year to live. At the time, I simply accepted it, surprised I had lasted this long. The doctor’s words seemed more credible than the fragmented information from the book.

But now, considering the limited resources available for a proper diagnosis, I realized that the one-year prognosis might have been inaccurate. It could be much shorter. Perhaps even less than a month. According to the book, with the amount of Taumiel I had consumed, I should have been dead already.

I glanced at Kin. Death didn’t frighten me. But what if my calculations were wrong, and I died in front of him? What if I had less than a month, and I subjected Kin, Mother, and Father to such a horrific sight?

No.

My heart pounded with guilt. Suddenly, Kin stopped, taking my hand.

“Look.”

His words snapped me back to the present. I couldn’t let him see how much pain I was in. Pushing the discomfort aside, I followed his gaze. A street artist was painting a picture of the sunset over the city streets.