Dream-like moments are piling up. Laila shook her head in various directions to fend off the overwhelming drowsiness, but all that returned was endless yawning.
Before she knew it, receiving contact from Franz and meeting him had become routine.
This meant that the time spent between them was accumulating, yet upon returning from meeting Franz, Laila found it hard to fall asleep.
What they talked about during the day and the physical contact he had with her vividly resurfaced in her mind.
Thoughts like, “Why did I say that?” and shy regrets flooded in, while excited speculations like, “Why did he say such things?” also danced through her head as she spent the night wide awake.
Thanks to this, during work hours, she ended up dozing off like a sick chicken, causing Mrs. Pulcheria to look at her strangely.
After stifling two more yawns, Laila’s head gradually drooped down.
“Laila.”
“Yes! Yes, ma’am.”
Surprised, Laila lifted her head from where she had been curling yarn.
It seemed she had fallen asleep without even realizing she was dozing off. Pulcheria clicked her tongue in discontent.
“What on earth are you doing at night that you’re dozing off like this during the day, Laila?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am.”
Bowing her head in apology, Laila’s ears were visibly flushed red.
Was she embarrassed about being caught dozing, or shy from recalling the reason for her fatigue? It leaned towards the latter.
With a sigh, Pulcheria slowly leaned back against the chair, her eyes narrowing.
She had seen countless instances of low-ranking maids and attendants secretly enjoying clandestine affairs and catching up on sleep during working hours.
But she believed Laila was different from those girls.
Having already passed the age of blossoming interests in romance, Pulcheria never imagined Laila would let such matters trouble her.
Yet, Laila was now making careless mistakes, mindlessly mopping or breaking vases while lost in thought.
She could no longer deny the creeping anxiety that had been arising with Laila’s unusual behavior.
Ah, this is not just a fleeting infatuation or a momentary crush.
“Deeply enchanted, I see.”
Pulcheria had never seen Laila so distracted. After all, she had witnessed Laila’s every moment since birth.
Having grown closer than blood relatives, Pulcheria could vaguely guess the depth of Laila’s feelings for someone unknown.
At this point, there were two choices: to quickly support that love and help it bear blessed fruit, or to cut it off, even with a knife.
Either way, the first step was to understand the person that Laila had fallen for to make a judgment.
“If you’re meeting every day and thinking about it so much that you can’t sleep, shouldn’t you tell your aunt? How long are you going to keep quiet and pretend it’s nothing?”
“W-well, ma’am…”
Laila couldn’t bring herself to say, “No, Aunt. You’re mistaken,” to Pulcheria, who could see right through her like flipping a palm.
Laila was a gentle girl who had no talent for lying in the first place.
She could never reveal who her love interest was. That thought pained Laila. If this secret romance came to light, the person who would be hurt the most would be her only family, Pulcheria.
It was heartbreaking to think that the two people she loved most in the world were aiming knives at each other. Just moments ago, Laila was blushing with excitement, and now an enormous sadness had taken its place in her heart.
She truly didn’t want to hurt anyone, especially Pulcheria, who was her benefactor and family.
“I’m not trying to pressure you, but I need to know who it is to feel at ease. You’re truly precious to me, Laila.”
“Yes, ma’am…”
Guilt weighed heavily on her. Laila bowed her head, unable to meet Pulcheria’s gaze.
Pulcheria sighed deeply and threw down her knitting needles onto the table.
Though it was still warm outside, Pulcheria insisted that they needed to start making warm clothing before winter, prompting them to knit during an unusual summer.
There were plenty of winter clothes in the palace, but Pulcheria stubbornly endured the heat, wanting to make a knitted garment for her niece.
As Pulcheria knit, Laila sat beside her, managing the yarn’s rhythm so that it would run smoothly.
However, Laila struggled to stay awake, nodding off, which was understandably frustrating for Pulcheria.
It seemed she would have to discreetly send someone to find out who Laila’s partner was.
Laila, innocent but frustratingly aloof, would never confess anything to her first.
Leaving Laila to tidy up the yarn, Pulcheria stood up, determined to hold whoever caused her precious niece such sleepless nights accountable.
*Thud.*
The door closed, leaving Laila alone. Once Pulcheria was outside, Laila exhaled the breath she had been holding.
“What am I going to do?”
She was at a loss for what to do.
In her mind, Laila thought that it would be best to stop meeting Duke Toskur and confess everything to Lady Pulcheria, but her heart wasn’t following her thoughts.
Despite telling herself not to, her hand was already searching for the note Franz had left behind, and even as she resolved to stop, her feet moved toward the place where Franz would be waiting.
It was a moment where she could somewhat understand why her father had defied the family’s opposition to meet her mother and have her.
She had often heard how her mother’s father had suffered greatly from criticism for marrying a commoner, and now she felt a connection to that shared pain.
Was she repeating her father’s mistakes? This thought troubled her endlessly.
Yet, amidst her ponderings, Franz’s face kept appearing unexpectedly. Even as she sighed, thoughts of the Duke made her smile uncontrollably.
Anyone witnessing this could think she seemed possessed, lost in thought while alternating between smiles and seriousness.
“Your Grace…”
Though no one was around, she couldn’t easily say Franz’s name. The only title she felt courageous enough to utter was “Your Grace.”
Even if someone heard her, they wouldn’t know which duke she referred to, so that was all she could call Franz.
As Laila reflected, memories of her past conversations with Franz surfaced in her mind. Her deep feelings for him weren’t just due to his handsome appearance.
While it was undeniably attractive, the realization that they shared common pain played a much larger role.
Franz and Laila had both never experienced having a complete family.
Neither had the unconditional love of nurturing parents, missing the opportunity to root their self-esteem deeply.
Though different in appearance, they shared the same kind of pain, growing closer in their helplessness. No, Laila had unilaterally fallen for Franz.
Though his comforting words were meticulously planned, for Laila, who had never received such consolation, every word from Franz felt profoundly moving.
“Your father claimed love, which is why you exist now, Laila. You may seem like a pure wildflower, but I know there’s strength within you. That strength carries the courage your father had to pursue love, regardless of status or wealth.”
How could he express such deep sentiments? Laila smiled softly as she finished organizing her yarn.
Nobody had ever viewed her father’s pursuit of love so positively. They only criticized him as foolish and impulsive, dismissing it as a momentary whim rather than recognizing it as a beautiful and sacrificial love.
For the first time, she felt acknowledged from her very roots. Laila lingered in the warmth of Franz’s words, perhaps lost in that sweet facade for a while longer.
