The Full Story of an Incomplete Divorce - Chapter 4

Everything was miserable. The nights spent lying alone, forcing herself to sleep. The mornings greeted in an empty bed. The sense of humiliation that came each time she tried to placate her loneliness with her own hands. The constant pretense and forced smiles, acting happy in front of people.

Just how long did she have to live like this? Was there even an end to this tedious, exhausting loneliness?

If only she hadn’t entered this marriage in the first place…

“Are you happy in this married life?”

Charlotte’s face contorted in anguish. She resented and was bitterly hurt by Lucius, who neglected her.

“H-heuk, uk, heu…”

Burying her face in the pillow, Charlotte covered her ears with her hands and cried until she could no longer hear Lucius’s voice, finally falling asleep as if collapsing from exhaustion.

The next day. Although the morning sun had risen quite some time ago, Charlotte did not get out of bed. After sending away all the maids who had come to help her tidy the bedding and prepare for the day, she lay under the covers, moaning. Her body felt heavy, like waterlogged cotton, and her head throbbed, likely from crying all night.

Knock knock.

“I said I wanted to be alone.”

She had specifically warned them not to come to her room until summoned. At the sound of the knocking, Charlotte irritably turned over. Seeing that it was quiet outside, thankfully, it seemed the maid had understood and left. But this time, instead of another knock, a low voice came through.

“Charlotte, it’s me.”

It was Lucius. If not for last night, she would have welcomed him with a happy heart. Pressing her throbbing forehead, Charlotte let out a long sigh. She didn’t want to see Lucius’s face right now. Should she just ignore him? After a moment’s hesitation, Charlotte unsteadily got up and opened the door.

“What is it?”

The man, dressed in a buttoned-up suit, his face dazzling in the morning sun, exuded an aura quite different from her own—disheveled hair just risen from bed, wearing a crumpled nightgown she hadn’t bothered to straighten.

“You didn’t come down to the dining room today. The maid said you refused your meal.”

“I have no appetite.”

His clear blue eyes lingered on Charlotte’s puffy eyes.

“Have you been crying?”
For a moment, something hot welled up in her throat, and Charlotte gripped the hem of her clothes tightly. What would change if she said she cried because of what you said, that it was all your fault? Tap. Releasing the strength from her hand, she shook her head weakly.

“…It’s not something for you to concern yourself with.”

“Charlotte.”

“If you have nothing more to say, please leave. I’m tired.”

Without even waiting for an answer, Charlotte closed the door and lay back down on the bed. She was tired. She didn’t want to expend any more emotional energy than this. Closing her eyes, she felt herself sinking into a deep, profound sleep.

After that day, Charlotte spent most of her time holed up in her room. The atmosphere in the mansion, now that she—who had always been the one to approach Lucius and start conversations—no longer even joined him for meals or tea time, grew still, beyond quietude into stark bleakness. It was a continuous succession of suffocating days.

“Ma’am, I’ve brought the account books. Would you like to review them?”

Charlotte stared blankly at the books the maid held out, then shook her head without any enthusiasm.

“No. From now on, please entrust the management of the account books to the head maid, not to me.”

It was the first time the mistress, who was thorough and never neglected a single thing, had entrusted the management of the accounts to someone else. The maid was surprised internally but did not show it.

“Yes, ma’am. Would you… like me to bring you a cup of warm tea?”

“It’s fine. I don’t really have the taste for it.”

After the maid left, Charlotte rested her chin on her hand and turned her gaze out the window. After crying all night, she had been plagued by a profound sense of lethargy and had completely let go of all the duties of the lady of the house, including managing the accounts, charitable activities, and social engagements.

The loneliness that had followed her like a shadow and Lucius’s indifference were hardly new occurrences. She herself didn’t know why she was suddenly so overwhelmed by this feeling of powerlessness. She simply didn’t want to do anything. Like a person who had lost all will, her entire daily routine consisted of lying in bed or sitting blankly, staring out the window until the day grew dark.

Day by day, her face grew gaunt, and her eyes, once like ripe honey, lost their vitality, like gems that had been drained of their color. In contrast, her mind had become exceedingly clear and calm. Sitting quietly in her chair, staring at the red sunset setting in the west, Charlotte slowly rose from her seat.

Soon, a resolute look flashed across her face as she left the room.