Chapter 4: My Friend’s Divorce (4)
Berner’s uncharacteristic defense of Aneta, raising his voice for once, only made him seem more suspicious.
A devoted son, Berner had always turned a blind eye to his mother’s mistreatment of Aneta.
“Just bear with it.”
“I feel sorry for you.”
“Mother has been struggling ever since Father passed away.”
“You’re the only one who can tolerate her. Thank you.”
“I’m sorry. Thank you.”
Those words had always been enough. Enough for Aneta to endure the cruelty, the sharp-tongued barbs, the relentless mistreatment.
She should be able to endure it now, too.
Aneta slowly lowered her gaze. The veins on the back of her hand stood out from how tightly she had been gripping her fork.
She stared at her hand in strange fascination.
‘Why am I so angry?’
The emotion didn’t feel like her own.
She didn’t want to acknowledge it, but deep down, she already knew the answer.
She was furious.
At Berner, who suddenly decided to take her side.
At Rodielsa Carbonetti, newly divorced and back in town.
At herself.
Her mother-in-law’s cruelty no longer truly mattered. Once, it might have. But now? Christine’s words, however biting, no longer carried the same weight. If Aneta wanted, she could easily push them out of her mind.
But Rodielsa was different.
Rodielsa hadn’t done anything. And yet, Aneta’s thoughts were consumed by her. The moment her name was spoken, the moment her husband defended her differently than before, Aneta knew—Berner was just as affected as she was.
And that made her furious.
Furious that she wasn’t capable of sympathizing with a friend who had lost her child in the divorce—because she was too consumed by jealousy.
Furious at herself for realizing it.
Aneta unclenched her fingers from the fork as if untangling herself from a rope and calmly placed it down. Then, she rose to her feet.
Berner and Christine’s eyes immediately turned to her.
She could feel their questioning stares, but she didn’t bother to explain herself. She simply left the dining room. Christine muttered complaints about manners behind her, but Aneta didn’t care.
—
After soothing his mother’s irritation over his wife’s abrupt departure, Berner went straight to Aneta’s room.
“Berner.”
She was sitting on the sofa, looking exhausted.
He thought about the letter he had received that day.
“How have you been?”
A familiar handwriting, one that stirred old memories.
“It’s been so long since I last wrote to you.”
“I thought about sending a letter before, but I hesitated. I didn’t want to make things awkward for you and Aneta. And before I knew it, years had passed.”
The envelope bore no sender’s name—only his.
“To Viscount Berner Schreiber.”
The moment he saw it, his heart dropped.
“I want comfort.”
“From you. From Aneta.”
“I wish we could sit by the river, just like we did when we were children, talking about anything and everything.”
“But I suppose that’s too much to hope for now.”
Berner’s gaze locked onto Aneta’s auburn hair as he tried to shake the words from his mind.
“And yet, even knowing that, I still feel lonely.”
“That’s why I’m writing to you.”
“If there’s even a little bit of friendship left between us, could we meet the evening after tomorrow at six?”
“Aneta too. The three of us.”
“I’ll be waiting by the Eaton River—where we always used to go.”
Berner only then realized how tightly he had been clenching his fist.
But he couldn’t bring himself to relax it.
More than worrying that his mother’s words might have hurt Aneta, Berner was more curious about whether Rodielsa had sent her a letter as well.
He wanted to ask.
‘Did you, by any chance, receive a letter from Roel?’
But what did it matter if she had or hadn’t?
He couldn’t picture the three of them sitting together by the Eaton River, chatting as they once did. The only proper response to that letter was to ignore it.
The moment Rodielsa had married another man without warning, their friendship—and whatever affection remained—had ended. The moment Aneta had married Berner, the friendship between her and Rodielsa had ended as well.
And yet, now—
Berner clenched his fist. It must have been anger at Rodielsa that made him do so.
“What does she want, sending a letter now?”
“What does she expect, asking to meet now?”
Aneta lifted her head and met his eyes with a smile.
“Have you finished dinner?”
Relieved by her calm, usual tone, Berner approached and sat beside her. He knew a simple apology would be enough to soothe her, so he easily placed his hand over the back of hers.
Feeling her small hand tense slightly, he spoke.
“I’m sorry, Annie. My mother upset you, didn’t she?”
As expected, Aneta smiled.
“It’s fine. It’s not like she was wrong. I should visit Roel sometime soon. Would you like to come with me?”
He could feel her gaze on him, but he found it difficult to meet her eyes. Instead, he fixed his attention on the magazine on the table, as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world.
It wasn’t as if he had any lingering feelings for Rodielsa. She had chosen wealth and power over love and had cast him aside without hesitation.
Aneta knew how much he had loved Rodielsa—how deeply her betrayal had wounded him. And even knowing that Rodielsa had stolen Berner’s heart, Aneta had still chosen him.
But that had been eight years ago.
For three years, he had drowned in despair, longing, and pain. For five years, he had lived as Aneta’s husband.
So, how was he supposed to react now?
When his former lover—his childhood friend—returned as a divorcée?
When his wife suggested they go visit and comfort her together?
What would the perfect husband do?
“I’m not sure…”
Berner dragged out his words, stroking the back of Aneta’s hand with his thumb.
“Would that really be a good idea?”
Unable to reach a conclusion, he left the decision to Aneta.
Forcing himself to appear indifferent, he finally turned to look at her. Seeing her usual bright smile, he felt relieved.
“We were friends. It wouldn’t hurt to visit her at least once, just to offer some comfort.”
As always, Aneta provided the answer for him.
He realized then that passing the decision to her had been the best choice.
“If that’s what you think, then I suppose it’s fine.”
The thought of possibly seeing Rodielsa soon made his chest tighten.
Hoping Aneta wouldn’t notice, he picked up the magazine and absentmindedly flipped through it.
“Oh, by the way—do you remember the party at Count Moody’s estate the day after tomorrow?”
‘The day after tomorrow.’
“Can we meet at six in the evening?”
Rodielsa’s handwriting flashed vividly in his mind, blocking out everything else.
He knew he should tell Aneta about the letter.
Logically, he understood that. But his mouth moved on its own.
“Ah, sorry. I might be too busy to go with you that day.”
He regretted it the moment he said it, but there was no taking it back now.
Fortunately, Aneta showed no sign of suspicion.
“Oh? Well, I suppose it can’t be helped. It’s not an important party anyway.”
“Yeah. If I finish work early, I’ll try to drop by.”
—
The Renstein ducal house was immensely wealthy.
The head of the family, Duke Benoît Renstein, ran numerous successful businesses and owned more than ten mines. On top of that, his wife—a foreign princess—had brought with her a dowry large enough to purchase an entire country.
Some even said that Duke Renstein was richer than the royal family of the Domence Kingdom.
He had already passed down a portion of that wealth to his eldest son, Esteban Renstein.
At a young age, Esteban had come into enough money to rank among the top ten wealthiest people in the kingdom. He invested indiscriminately, and a few of those investments turned out to be massive successes. He then entrusted the management of those lucrative ventures to his friends.
And since vast wealth only ever begets more wealth, Esteban now had more money pouring in each year than he could spend in a lifetime.
Right now, at Elgreen Lake, he was indulging in what most people would call a ridiculous waste of money.
“What a spectacle.”
Eric Reicher, knowing exactly how much Esteban earned, chose not to stop his friend’s extravagance but to enjoy it alongside him.
They stood on the terrace of the reception room on the second floor of Elgreen Villa.
The lake’s view from there was truly stunning, but the brilliance of the scenery was entirely the result of Esteban’s excessive spending.
“Yeah, isn’t it incredible?”
The lakeside, once barren aside from its natural vegetation, was now lined with countless streetlamps—some taller than a person, others as low as knee height.
Every evening, Esteban’s hired workers lit every single lamp, making Elgreen Lake shine as bright as midday.
The flickering lanterns cast dancing shadows of the trees, creating an ethereal, dreamlike atmosphere.
The lake’s surface shimmered, reflecting the lights as though stars had fallen from the sky and settled upon the water.
Yet, despite this breathtaking scene, Esteban scowled.
With a low growl, he muttered,
“If only that damned house weren’t there.”
