Abandoned Maid of the Grand Duke - Chapter 45
Maybe it was the sudden heat after being in a cool place that her body couldn’t handle the rapid temperature change. Or perhaps it was her conscience reacting to the overwhelming care and effort of the Grand Duke.
Water was seeping out from beneath her wet bloomers. There was still a week left until her due date. Everywhere she looked, all she could hear were the sounds of insects and rustling leaves.
As the due date approached, Ernst had deliberately stayed by her side, not going hunting. She had relied on him to handle any emergencies and hadn’t prepared anything herself.
But now, what was she supposed to do?!
If only she had a phone, she could look something up. Unable to do anything, she just clung to her wet skirt, pacing back and forth in front of the hut one, two, and three times.
‘Should I just wait at home?’
No, what if no one comes, and she ended up giving birth in the hut? This isn’t a modern society with sanitation and medical care—it’s a barbaric era where giving birth is a life-threatening event.
She suddenly felt a sense of urgency.
She had narrowly escaped death. She had survived amidst those rebels, risking her life. She couldn’t just die here, listening to the sounds of insects as white noise.
Clenching her teeth, she grabbed a hat, a clean cotton cloth, and a light cane from the house and started walking. If she walked for about an hour, she’d reach a small market area where villagers gathered. She just had to get there.
If someone saw her, they would inform Ernst. The baby wouldn’t come out immediately just because her water broke.
Ernst had done so much for her, always considering her needs, so she had to do her best too!
She began to walk diligently. Her head felt dizzy, but the pain in her lower abdomen was worse. It came and went, came and went.
As the pain, similar to menstrual cramps, rose and fell repeatedly, her body was already drenched in sweat.
Every time she felt the pain, she thought of Ernst. He had looked after her through thick and thin, giving up everything to follow her, yet she kept making him feel bad with her words.
‘I couldn’t have done it.’
It wasn’t because she didn’t love him, but because the love he gave her was so immense.
If she were still living in the modern era and someone asked if she could give up everything for love, could she have done it?
Or who could possibly do that?
Maybe the romance we read about in books is actually a love rooted in heavy and burdensome responsibility in real life.
If so, she should have cherished it. She should have seen it as a sincere commitment affecting someone’s life, not just a line of romantic play written in some book.
‘Why did I…?’
Why did she keep doubting him, thinking of it as merely a line from a story? Did she arrogantly believe that she knew everything about the story?
Because she knew the future, the next part, the situation, and the potential he had.
‘That he might regret choosing me.’
A tear dropped. It wasn’t from sadness, but from lingering regret.
She usually despised crying protagonists, but she’s not a protagonist. Besides, what’s wrong with an expectant mother showing some regret? She could bear the title of a regretful female lead and still go find her husband. That’s what keyword searches are for.
So, whether she was crying from pain or regret, she wasn’t sure, but she kept walking down the mountain path, sniffling.
She felt guilty the whole time. What Ernst showed her wasn’t just mere dialogues of love that she could read in a book. It was a love and an adventure he risked his life for, but she kept measuring and doubting it to suit her own taste.
‘I need to apologize.’
But why was her vision suddenly spinning?
Just when she could vaguely see the village at the edge of her vision, thinking she still had more to walk, her vision spun, and she fainted.
“…lie!!”
She heard someone calling out to her, but before she could recognize that person, she lost consciousness.
And one thought flashed in her mind.
‘Oh, damn it.’
Is this why the novel had my character give birth on the roadside?
This is why you can’t trust every line in a novel as it is.
“My name, you ask? When the heat rises, a strong floral scent wafts in, just like a lily. As an infant, I reminded my mother of the flowers that the hunter carried when he helped her when she had collapsed, so they named me that.”
And the hunter, did you think he was your father?
At the Crown Prince’s question, Lillian smiled sadly and brushed his lips with a kiss.
Does it suit me well? she whispered, and the Crown Prince murmured as he kissed her lips again.
“Absolutely… perfectly.”
