Chapter 57 – Apple Sherbet
Did “leaving his side” mean they lost a child, or that they divorced or separated?
No.
Michael hadn’t finished his sentence, but Estelle instinctively understood.
After all, the only reason they were living again now was because they had already faced “death.”
Estelle had always been sensitive to others’ emotions—what they were thinking, what they were feeling, and how they viewed her.
‘Michael… feels about me…’
The same way he had loved their first child.
He loves me.
It was a feeling she naturally understood, even without hearing it aloud.
More than losing a child again, he feared Estelle dying because of it.
“Were you… very lonely?”
That’s why seeing this man nod so meekly in front of her made her heart ache.
She felt sorry for leaving him. Even if she had no memory of it, Michael remembered everything.
“I missed you. So much.”
“…”
“I’ve never longed for anyone like that before. Why did I forget? If I had realized it just a little earlier… I would’ve told you I loved you. Then maybe you wouldn’t have died. I regretted it.”
Her mouth tasted bitter. The fact that she had left someone like this behind pained her. What hurt even more was her past self, who would never know this love.
‘I don’t remember anything… Why?’
It was as if that part of her had been completely carved out.
“And I realized something else. How miserable it is to love someone and not be loved back. It’s a wonder you waited for me every night, even when I didn’t come.”
Because she had no memory, she couldn’t fully comprehend everything he was saying. Why he’d wait for a love that wasn’t returned, why he’d stay for someone who never came.
But from now on, she could start making it up to him. She could fill in the blanks, write a new story.
Michael’s tears had stopped at some point. The downpour had ended, leaving only red traces behind. She was glad to see he had calmed down a bit.
“Tell me. How did we first meet?”
She felt it was okay to ask now.
“…At your debutante ball.”
He answered softly, without hesitation.
‘He says we met at the debutante…’
Estelle had her debut at the age of eight.
It was not long after she’d returned from the south.
Several years had passed since, but she still remembered it vividly.
Duke Winchester had left before he could even offer her the first dance, claiming he was too busy, so Estelle had stood alone, leaning against the wall.
She had only watched the other fathers lifting their daughters by the waist and smiling gently even when their feet were stepped on.
‘That’s when I started to love Leonov.’
Leonov had approached her, offering to dance the first dance in someone else’s place. To Estelle, he looked like a prince from a fairy tale, saving a princess in distress.
‘Why did I think he was so charming back then?’
She hadn’t known he was acting under the Empress’s orders. She had thought it was fate.
“But… are you sure we met at the debutante?”
“Why do you ask?”
“I didn’t see you that day.”
But the important detail was something else. At the debutante’s head table, only the Empress and Leonov were present.
‘Michael wasn’t there when I entered. We never even crossed paths…’
Did he attend secretly, away from public eyes?
‘Wait. Now that I think about it… in the past, I never married Michael. I never lost a child.’
…Their timelines didn’t align.
‘So the memories I don’t have… it’s because it was a different life.’
How many lives had Michael lived?
And—
‘If I lost a child and then died, and was later murdered by Melody… then…’
He had experienced Estelle’s death over and over again. Even if he was brought back to life, it wasn’t something one could easily bear.
‘Now I understand why he wanted a divorce.’
Everything he had said made perfect sense now.
“Of course. In the second life, I didn’t attend on purpose.”
“…Did you attend in the first life?”
“Yeah. I danced with you. The first dance.”
‘The first dance… was with Michael.’
Not Leonov.
‘One change, and so many things were different.’
It had started small, but the path had been riddled with hardships, and the ending had turned tragic.
“We met at the debutante? After the first dance, did we do anything else?”
She wanted to hear more of his story.
‘Maybe if I keep listening, I might remember something… Even if I don’t, I’m still curious—how did I end up falling in love after meeting him at eight years old?’
She wanted to hear about the time when she had loved Michael—not Leonov.
If only to overwrite her memories of loving Leonov.
But Michael didn’t continue. Instead, he scratched his cheek.
“…Your Highness. If you don’t want to talk about it—”
It could have been uncomfortable for him. Talking about things only he remembered to someone who had forgotten everything.
“No, it’s not that I don’t want to talk. It’s just… a little embarrassing.”
“Embarrassing?”
“I just remembered I cried.”
Did he mean he cried without realizing it?
‘So that’s why he suddenly stopped crying earlier.’
The way he looked flustered struck her as unexpectedly endearing.
“I’ll tell you. But it’s kind of a long story. Maybe we should go to the drawing room or something? Standing around here feels awkward.”
They weren’t quite finished exploring, but as he said, standing in one spot was making her legs ache.
“That sounds good.”
“This way.”
Michael began walking down the stairs, where an elderly man was waiting.
‘Who’s that?’
But the sharp-eyed old man bowed politely before she could even ask.
“Lady Estelle Winchester, it’s an honor. I am Sebas. I humbly assist His Highness and manage this estate.”
“Nice to meet you, Sebas.”
They had only just exchanged greetings, yet Michael already looked deeply displeased.
“Didn’t I warn you not to show yourself?”
His tone was cold, like he’d encountered someone he found unpleasant. He was clearly bristling at the old man.
‘Why? Did something happen between them?’
She couldn’t understand why he’d be so hostile toward an old man, a butler of the estate, no less.
To make matters worse, Michael wrapped an arm around Estelle’s shoulder and ushered her past him.
“Your Highness… Did something happen with the butler?”
“…Not really.”
Michael didn’t seem eager to elaborate. He went into the drawing room, draped his jacket on a chair, and sat down on the sofa.
“It’s Sebas,” the old man repeated quietly.
Michael didn’t respond, remaining silent.
“…You may come in,” Estelle said softly, figuring it would be uncomfortable for everyone otherwise.
Once inside the quiet drawing room, the old man brought apple mint tea and apple sherbet.
‘Apple sherbet?’
Her eyes widened at the sight—but just for a moment. Sebas placed three ice cubes only in Estelle’s cup.
Thanks to the floating ice, the hot tea was now a lukewarm, pleasant temperature.
She’d been avoiding hot drinks since that day, so it was actually perfect.
‘But… how did he know?’
She wondered if Michael had mentioned something, but then realized—she had never told Michael she couldn’t drink hot things.
They’d never even sat down face-to-face to drink tea like this, so he wouldn’t have had the chance to notice.
It was strange on many levels.
“Well then, please enjoy your conversation. I’ll excuse myself.”
Only once Sebas’s footsteps had faded far into the distance did Michael begin to loosen his cravat, looking like he was finally able to breathe.
‘Even if I asked what happened between them, I doubt he’d tell me.’
Glancing over, Estelle found herself awkwardly staring at the sherbet.
‘That time, the butler had prepared this… I should’ve eaten it.’
Suddenly, a pang of regret welled up over the apple sherbet.
Back then, she’d said she didn’t want anything sweet, using her exhaustion from dealing with Lucas as an excuse.
What was so bad about sweets? She could’ve just drank it.
‘Stupid. I didn’t even know it would be the last time.’
Emotion overwhelmed her. Estelle took a large spoonful of the sherbet.
“…It’s too sweet.”
“I remember you used to love apple sherbet.”
Michael’s once-cold expression began to soften.
“Yes, I do. Because it’s sweet…”
‘Estelle, aren’t you cold? Even in this weather, you’re asking for apple sherbet. What if you catch a cold?’
‘Just a little, Grandpa. Please don’t go anywhere.’
‘I’ll stay until you finish it.’
She remembered that day too—because of the apple sherbet.
“Eat slowly. You’ll catch a cold.”
Michael echoed the same concern Count Madel once had.
“How did you know I liked apple sherbet?”
“I saw you eating it every day.”
“Every day…? Ah.”
At first, she didn’t understand. Then it hit her.
He was talking about the time they were married.
