If I was Going to Regret It Anyway

“It seems like an overdose of sedatives.”

 

Dr. Douglas Hardy said as he emerged from Daryl’s bedroom. The faces of those gathered darkened all at once, and Herbert hurriedly asked.

 

“How is he? Is he alright?”

 

“Yes, fortunately, it doesn’t seem like he took too much. We made him vomit to empty his stomach, so he should recover soon.”

 

It seemed that always prescribing only a small amount just in case had been effective.

 

If the dosage had been higher, or if the discovery had been delayed, it could have led to irreversible consequences. However, Hardy decided not to mention such facts.

 

“…..”

 

“Don’t worry too much. He will be alright.”

 

Layla bit her lip, her face full of worry. It seemed she couldn’t hear Hardy’s comforting words.

 

“He’ll probably keep sleeping until tomorrow morning, but just in case, it would be good to keep an eye on him. I’ll come back when it gets light.”

 

“Thank you for your hard work.”

 

Herbert bowed his head in gratitude, and Hardy returned the gesture before leaving the place.

 

It was just as Hardy had left the Lilac Room that Philip hurriedly followed him.

 

“Mr. Hardy, just a moment, please.”

 

“What is it?”

 

Philip hesitated for a moment after calling Hardy.

 

“Today’s incident…was it an accident? Or could it be that…what I mean is, did the Duke do it on purpose…?”

 

Philip stammered, unable to continue his sentence properly.

 

Despite his young age, he was known as a competent secretary. Hardy had never seen him lose his composure like this. Usually, he appeared as expressionless and calm as Daryl himself.

 

Being one of Daryl’s closest associates, perhaps he felt responsible for the situation.

 

“There is a possibility. That’s why everyone around should pay special attention. To prevent the same thing from happening again.”

 

“…..”

 

Philip bowed his head, looking troubled.

 

Of course, there was a limit to what those around him could do. If he truly intended to take his own life, there was no way to stop him.

 

Since the divorce from the Duchess, Daryl had been falling apart both physically and mentally. When he heard the news today, he wasn’t surprised, he had been prepared for such a day to come at any time.

 

Daryl was pushed to the edge of a cliff. His physical condition had deteriorated to the point where it couldn’t even be compared to three years ago. Severe stress, lack of sleep, and dependence on sedatives and sleeping pills had wreaked havoc on his liver and stomach.

 

Destruction was inevitable, regardless of how it happened. It was just a matter of which would last longer, his body or his mind.

 

“I’ll be going then. Mr. Howarth, you should get some rest too, considering tomorrow.”

 

“…Yes, I understand.”

 

Hardy turned away from Philip.

 

****

 

Daryl woke up the next evening.

 

After examining Daryl, Dr. Hardy diagnosed, ‘There is no serious issue with his body. There will be no aftereffects.’

 

Daryl said nothing. He did not ask what had happened, nor did he respond to any questions. He just sat on the bed as if his soul had left him.

 

Everyone looked as if they were burning up inside, but they dared not press Daryl. Layla was no exception. She silently watched Daryl for a while and then left his bedroom.

 

The next day, Layla canceled all her appointments again, following the previous day. Daryl’s condition wasn’t immediately dangerous, but she felt she couldn’t pretend to be alright if she went out in such a mood.

 

It was when she was sitting blankly in the room, not doing anything, nor having the courage to do anything, that she heard a knock on the door.

 

“Miss Layla.”

 

It was the butler, Herbert. As soon as Layla saw him, she quickly got up.

 

“What’s wrong? Is there another problem with my brother?”

 

Herbert hurriedly waved his hands.

 

“No, it’s not that there’s a problem, it’s just…”

 

“Just?”

 

“…The Master refuses to eat.”

 

“Since when? Don’t tell me since yesterday?”

 

“Yes. Since he woke up, he has been…”

 

Dr. Hardy had advised that after emptying his stomach once, he should eat easily digestible liquid food for at least a day. That meant he hadn’t even touched porridge.

 

“Why? Does he not want to eat?”

 

“I don’t know. He still won’t say anything…”

 

“…..”

 

Layla bit her lip quietly.

 

“I’ll go and see him.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Layla realized anew that she was the only family Daryl had. Anthony had been living almost like a stranger, not showing his face at the duke’s residence for several years. It seemed that after Daryl divorced Eleanor, he had completely cut off support for Anthony.

 

After entering Daryl’s bedroom, Layla felt a sense of déjà vu. Daryl was sitting on the bed in the same posture, the same appearance as when Layla had left the room the previous evening.

 

“Brother.”

 

“…..”

 

Even when Layla spoke to him, he did not look back. His gaze was fixed somewhere outside the window.

 

“You haven’t eaten. You’ve been sleeping all day yesterday, so it’s almost two days since you’ve eaten anything. You might collapse again.”

 

“…..”

 

“…Brother.”

 

Still, no answer came back from Daryl.

 

As she looked at his powerless side profile, something hot surged up inside her throat. Layla clenched her teeth.

 

“What’s going to change by doing this? If you act like this, do you think Eleanor will come back out of pity?”

 

“…..”

 

At the mention of Eleanor’s name, Daryl’s drooping fingertips twitched.

 

“Or is it a protest? Do you think if you die, Eleanor will regret not accepting you? Do you want to see her sorry and sad face, is that why you’re doing this, now!”

 

At those words, Daryl finally turned to look at Layla. His expression was still empty, but there was a faint light in his eyes.

 

“…that shouldn’t happen.”

 

“What? What do you mean?”

 

“I shouldn’t make her sad because of me. Not anymore…”

 

Layla was momentarily speechless, her mouth agape.

 

“Then you shouldn’t do this. What do you think Eleanor would feel if you died? You say you don’t want to make Eleanor sad, so why did you do that?”

 

“I didn’t intend to die.”

 

Daryl murmured in a low voice.

 

“I had no thoughts of dying. On the contrary. I couldn’t breathe…I felt like I was going to die. That’s why I took it. The medicine…”

 

Daryl lifted his trembling hand to his chest and gripped it tightly. He thought he couldn’t make Eleanor unhappy because of himself anymore. That’s why he kept his promise to her. He settled the Wembury estate and called back all the watchers. As Eleanor said, he tried not to linger around her anymore.

 

He thought he would be okay. It was just going back to before he went down to Wembury. Just going back to the time when he was alone after divorcing Eleanor. He thought he had no choice but to do it, whether he could or not.

 

But it wasn’t so. When everything was dealt with, and he thought it was really over, everything went dark before his eyes. His whole body trembled, and his clothes were soaked with cold sweat.

 

He would never see Eleanor again. He could no longer see her walking, painting, playing with the puppies from afar. The small back hunched over looking at wildflowers by the roadside, the expression of puckering her lips as if she didn’t like the brushstroke she just made, the smile of embracing a puppy and laughing brightly. He would never see them again. Thinking so, a profound sense of despair struck him. It felt as if the world had ended.

 

He didn’t know it would be like this. If he had known, he should have been more careful. If he hadn’t sent that necklace, so Eleanor wouldn’t have found out, it would have been okay. By now, he could have received a letter from her at Wembury. He could have read and reread the kind letter written in handwriting as beautiful as hers, soaking in the happiness like sweet rain.

 

It was the same as two and a half years ago. Once again, he realized how precious it was only after losing it. He couldn’t breathe, feeling choked up. Daryl collapsed on the desk, clutching his chest. He took out the bottle of pills, poured them into his hand, and swallowed them.

 

He didn’t say he hadn’t thought it would have been easier if he had died then. But he realized after hearing Layla’s words just now. Even if he died, he shouldn’t die like this. If he did, the tender-hearted Eleanor might think Daryl’s death was her fault. He couldn’t do such a thing to her. The pain he had already caused her was enough.

 

Then what should he do? He couldn’t live without Eleanor, but he couldn’t live, and he couldn’t die either. What should he do?