The Marquisate of O’Dear, where Regina was born, was an ancient noble family with a long lineage. If one opened the history books of Waylin’s founding, their name appeared on the very first page.
The land bestowed by the first king was a region of dense forests and vast plains. The abundant timber and stone, coupled with the harvests from the extensive wheat fields, made the O’Dear fortress prosperous.
However, even the most magnificent flowers have their season to wither. As the saying goes, “A wealthy family can last three generations before collapsing,” and so it was with the Marquisate of O’Dear. The downfall that began with the 21st generation continued through the 23rd, and by the time Regina’s father, Ralph, inherited the title in the 24th generation, the family was nearly destitute.
His only hope was for Regina to find and bring home a dependable son-in-law.
“Marry a kind man, Regina.” Ralph had advised while puffing on a cigar.
“And if he’s rich, all the better!”
The last remark may have been a joke, but Regina believed that Gray Cavill was the perfect groom who met both conditions. While he courted her, the marquisate’s reception room was never without fresh flowers. Her love-stricken and narrowed perspective cast a stained-glass tint of kindness over all his actions.
No brilliance could hold its vibrancy next to Gray Cavill. While other suitors sparkled like morning stars, Gray radiated the brilliance of the sun.
When he proposed with an enchanting smile, tears came to Regina’s eyes. Like someone staring at the sun for too long.
***
At that time, she was too young and naïve to realize that the sun was a presence one should only admire from afar. Getting too close would only burn her eyes and skin.
With a cynical laugh, Regina pulled the bell cord hanging beside the bed. When no maid arrived after a long wait, she tugged it several more times, prompting an irritated knock at the door.
“You called, madam?”
The maid’s pretty face clearly conveyed that she was busy to the point of exhaustion. A year ago, Regina might have hesitated, but now she pointed to the side table with a blank expression.
“Take that letter to my husband.”
“Madam,” the maid sighed deeply and spoke as if to reason with her.
“You know very well that the master is an incredibly busy man. Even last night, he—”
“Did I ask about that?”
Regina interrupted in a tone that was surprisingly gentle.
“And do you know what’s written in that letter? How could you judge whether it’s a trivial matter or not?”
“Well, I’ve delivered many of your letters before, madam, so—”
“I’ve never written a single letter addressed to you, Dina.”
Regina’s gaze fell on the sharp scar running across one side of the maid’s cheek.
“So if you know the contents of my letters, that can only mean you’ve been reading them, right?”
“What?! How could I do something so vulgar?!”
“But you did. In the East Wing’s second-floor passage, behind the eagle statue.”
The vulgar maid froze with her mouth agape. Regina’s precise identification of the location left her unable to refute.
“If you don’t want to explain yourself to the head maid, just do as you’re told.”
Dina, her delicate face now scrunched up, held back tears as she left with the letter.
Once she was gone, Regina leaned back against the pillow. Closing her tired eyes, she visualized her previous letters’ words as if they were written on the darkness behind her eyelids.
“Please, let’s talk, darling.”
“I can’t even remember the last time I saw your face.”
“You weren’t like this before. Why have you changed?”
If Dina had read those long-winded and pitifully pleading letters, it was no wonder she held Regina in contempt.
Being looked down on by a maid didn’t matter to her. What truly humiliated Regina was her husband’s indifference, as evidenced by his lack of replies.
But today, things would be different.
After checking the time, Regina took the medication left by the doctor and popped a fig candy into her mouth. By the time the chewy candy had dwindled into tiny crumbs that scraped her cheek, a heavy knock echoed through the room.
“Regina. May I come in?”
“Yes.”
Gray entered, his sleeves rolled up, his expression a mixture of slight irritation and calmness. He perched on the sofa, looking every bit as composed as ever.
Unable to bear looking at him any longer, Regina lowered her gaze. His shadow, stretched across the white sheets, barely brushed her hand. Even that faint contact sent a reluctant tremor through her.
“Did you get my letter?”
He must have, since he was here. For a man obsessed with work to make time to visit…
“Are you serious?” Gray asked abruptly.
“You’re saying you want a divorce?”
“You read it precisely then.”
“What’s the reason?”
Was he asking because he didn’t know, or was he planning his legal strategy?
Despite her confident demand for a divorce, she couldn’t summon the courage to look him directly in the face. Instead, she spoke to his shadow stretched across the sheets.
“As you know, I was in a coma for a year. The doctor said that if I’d woken up any later, I would’ve died. Yet you didn’t visit me even once during that time. Expecting me to rely on a husband like that for the rest of my life is just too cruel.”
Gray didn’t offer an excuse. He had countless ways to hurt her further.
“Regina,” he said, his voice carrying a weary sigh.
“While you were unconscious, you didn’t fulfill any of your duties or responsibilities as a wife. Meanwhile, I bore astronomical costs to keep you alive. I couldn’t visit because I was too busy filling the gaps left by your absence. That doesn’t mean I neglected my duties as a husband.”
“Save those arguments for the judge, Gray.”
It was strange. Even though they were speaking directly to each other, they couldn’t understand one another. Their hearts refused to connect, like the opposing poles of a magnet.
“I’m asking you now as your wife,” she said.
Even so, with a weary face, she brought forth her unreachable heart once again.
“If I hadn’t woken up and had died… our last memory would’ve been that fight a year ago.”
A sudden surge of emotion, burning like molten lava, clogged her throat and left her unable to speak. After taking a moment to steady her breath, she continued as if nothing had happened.
“Would it have mattered to you if I had died like that?”
“You didn’t die, did you? And what man would remain unscathed after his wife’s death? Stop accusing me based on unfounded assumptions.”
Her husband was maddeningly rational.
“Either way, you miraculously survived. If there are other issues, we can address them gradually as we move forward.”
You always speak so casually, as if my pain means nothing to you.
“Because I miraculously survived, I want a divorce! If I stay like this with you any longer, I feel like I’ll… truly die.”
Don’t cry, Regina. The weaker and more broken you appear, the less persuasive your voice becomes.
Her eyes stung as she fixed her gaze fiercely on the sheet beneath her. Gray, who had been silently observing her, stepped a little closer.
“Look at me, Regina.”
“I can hear you just fine, so just say it.”
If I look at you, I’ll weaken again. As she stubbornly kept her head down, a cool sigh brushed past her hair.
“Use your head to judge instead of your emotions. Staying in this marriage benefits you as well. You’ve experienced the wealth and privileges of being the Countess of Cavill, haven’t you?”
“That’s not what I want.”
“…Indeed, you’re not that kind of woman.”
To her surprise, Gray conceded, his words tinged with a bitter smile.
“It would’ve been easier if you were.”
Finally, a single tear slid down her cheek. As she pretended to brush back her hair, quickly wiping at the corner of her eye, Gray resumed his persuasion.
“Love is just a fleeting emotion. It has no need to intrude upon the relationship between a husband and wife, who must spend a lifetime together. If you could just shift your perspective a little—”
“That’s why I’m asking for a divorce, Gray Cavill.”
She bit down hard to keep from crying, forcing a smile.
“Because my heart, no matter how much I try to change it, loves you too much.”
***
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