Chapter 165: Happy For Others
Lorraine sat by the tall window of the drawing room, her gaze drifting lazily over the garden bathed in soft morning light. The sprawling green seemed impossibly calm compared to the storm raging in her mind.
She had finished plotting, every intricate detail of vengeance meticulously written, every calculated step laid bare on parchment. But now, her temples throbbed with unbearable intensity, as though the weight of every word she wrote were pounding inside her skull.
Her desk, usually a place of power, now seemed like a prison. The scattered parchments, once her instruments of control, now mocked her, their ink blurring in the haze of her headache. One more glance at those indecipherable letters and she feared her brain would simply spill out, leaving nothing but ruin.
She had searched for him, her husband, but was told he had left the mansion earlier. Where could he have gone? A prickling sensation grew in her chest, a faint but undeniable ache. She recalled the way he had looked at her earlier: the silent anguish in his eyes, the way his fingers had lingered, pressing so gently yet with such undeniable purpose against her head before he turned and walked away. His touch was impossibly warm, a contrast to the cold emptiness she often felt within.
A small smile curved her lips as her attention shifted to the garden. Emma and Elias sat beneath a large, flowering bush, their presence almost comical. Emma’s cheeks were flushed pink, and she spoke in an endless stream, each sentence spilling faster than the last. For every word Elias said, which was two or three at most, Emma seemed to utter ten, as if trying to fill every silence with noise.
Elias leaned toward Emma with the effortless stillness of a man who had long mastered restraint. His expression remained deadpan, stoic, almost unreadable, but there was an undeniable tension in the way his eyes flickered, briefly sharpening, darkening, as if daring her to catch the unspoken desire burning just beneath the surface.
His jaw tightened imperceptibly with every word Emma spoke, the muscles working subtly as though holding back a surge of longing. His body shifted slowly, almost imperceptibly, each movement measured, deliberate. His hand, resting lightly on his knee, twitched now and then, fingers flexing as though itching to reach out, to close the gap between them.
His lips remained pressed into a thin, unyielding line, but his breath seemed shallower, more focused, drawn in with a silent urgency. His eyes never left Emma’s face, tracing the curve of her cheek, the delicate slope of her lips, the way she smiled so casually, utterly unaware of the magnetic pull he exuded.
Every fraction of his body, from the slight tilt of his head to the slow, almost imperceptible lean forward, spoke of unvoiced intent. Elias was teetering on the edge of surrender, every fiber of his being begging her to notice, to turn and meet him halfway, but still, he held back, locked in a battle of willpower, knowing full well that a single misstep could shatter the fragile decorum between them.
Emma, blissfully ignorant, continued her animated chatter, her eyes sparkling with innocence, making his restraint all the more painfully exquisite.
The scene was absurd and endearing all at once. Emma’s words tumbled like a waterfall, and Elias, as still and stoic as a statue, simply waited...waiting... for that moment when she might, by accident or design, meet him halfway.
Lorraine chuckled softly to herself, the sound light and rare, breaking through the shadow that weighed on her heart. The ridiculousness of it, the innocence, the sweet naivety of it... It was a gentle reminder that life still moved forward, no matter how dark her own path had become.
When Lorraine heard someone entering the drawing room, a smile effortlessly spread across her face, soft and deliberate. It deepened when Sylvia appeared in the doorway.
"What are you doing here?" Lorraine signed, her expression playful yet guarded. She never revealed the truth aloud to the household staff, preferring the discretion of signs in public spaces.
"Shouldn’t you be with your fiancé, celebrating your wedding?" Her tone was light, but the question carried a teasing edge.
Sylvia’s face flushed, the warmth spreading from her cheeks to her neck and ears. She sat beside Lorraine, her words spilling out in a joyful cascade— how Aldric had already arranged their future home, leaving the task of decorating to her, how he dreamed of six children. Her voice was full of wonder and pride, as though speaking it aloud made it more real.
Lorraine listened, her smile genuine, eyes bright. She felt happiness for Sylvia, pure and simple. And for Aldric, too. He deserved someone like Sylvia: kind, steadfast, loving. She silently wished for their joy to endure forever.
Yet beneath Sylvia’s exuberance, a flicker of doubt shadowed her gaze. She had asked Aldric earlier why he hid his identity from Lorraine. He didn’t have to since the prince already knew the truth. But his response had been vague, evasive, leaving the question to fester.
Sylvia believed, perhaps naively, that the princess needed to know she was never truly alone. That even when faltering, support surrounded her, unseen hands ready to lift the fragments of her world. Even now, she still could let herself relax a bit as she wasn’t alone.
She believed Lorraine deserved that truth. It would definitely uplift her.
But perhaps Aldric remained silent because guilt weighed too heavily upon him. The thought that he had left the princess to suffer alone, that she might one day ask why he hadn’t intervened, terrified him. Sylvia felt certain of it. That was why he had chosen to serve as her steward, never family.
Yet Sylvia clung stubbornly to hope, believing that one day Lorraine would know her lineage, that family still loved her, and would protect her, even against the emperor.
The quiet hum of footsteps interrupted the fragile atmosphere.
Another maid followed, subtly positioning herself to block the figure entering. The air thickened with tension.
Sylvia’s eyes flickered to Lorraine, silently seeking guidance.
What should I do now?