After I Died, My Husband Went Mad - Chapter 114
The heavy scent of flowers rising from all directions and the sharp sound of scissors echoed through the air. The red roses fell one by one like severed necks, and white gloves reached down to pick them up.
For a moment, Sebelia thought Dehart was playing a cruel prank on her.
“Haah…”
She returned to her room and collapsed onto the bed. Maya didn’t follow her; She preferred cushions over the bed.
“It was a similar scene…”
Although there were a few differences, what she had just seen reminded her of the last time she faced him at Hillend Hall. That’s why, without realizing it, she froze for a moment.
What on earth was he thinking?
Sebelia subconsciously tried to figure out his intentions, but then she remembered that he had amnesia. Still, the discomfort remained in her heart like a thorn lodged in her throat. She wondered why and soon realized the cause.
“How could someone with no memory handle pruning roses so expertly?”
Sebelia shot up from the bed. The mattress swayed, and the blue bird sprang up from it. Her blue eyes filled with a sharp, cold light.
“Following ingrained habits and recalling learned knowledge are two completely different things.”
Gardening wasn’t something you could just dive into without prior knowledge. Pruning unnecessary branches and fruits to help the plants grow required both experience and expertise. Most people couldn’t even tell the difference between wildflowers and named flowers.
In other words, it wasn’t something that could be done mindlessly, without memory.
“His memory is definitely returning.”
Sebelia stood up nervously from the bed and paced around the room. She hadn’t even managed to make a satisfactory illusion yet, and he was already regaining his memories.
“I can’t let this happen, not like this…”
She sank into a chair with a pale face. Perhaps it was the rising sense of crisis that made her fingers tremble and turn white.
* * *
Dehart, the head of the Inverness family, was incompetent.
In the end, I couldn’t say a thing.
Sebelia had kept her distance from him until the very end. Her retreating back seemed desperate, and Dehart couldn’t bring himself to stop her.
“Ha.”
Amnesia. He had believed that such a ridiculous farce was a good plan. Dehart cursed his past self as he let out a bitter laugh. The fragments of his laughter were tinged with self-loathing.
Should I tell her that my memory’s returning now?
As soon as the thought crossed his mind, a painful groan escaped him. He couldn’t predict how she would react if he told her. Would she get angry? Cry? Yell at him?
Whichever path it was, Dehart knew he could bear it. But what would happen afterward? After everything was revealed, when she and he faced each other—what would come next?
Would there even be a future for them after this?
“I… I don’t know…”
No, Dehart didn’t truly want to know. He had been avoiding the truth all along. It was as much a part of him as his nature. Running away from pain, turning his head away from the truth.
As a child, Dehart didn’t want to remember the painful past, so he wiped out the last moments of his family from his mind. It was a coping mechanism, one he chose in order to survive, despite being only seven years old.
The problem was that he had learned the convenience of escaping, and even as an adult, he could not shake the habit.
That’s why Dehart never thought there was more to Sebelia’s betrayal. After her death, he refused to accept the reality and instead searched for nonexistent conspiracies.
Even after realizing that the brown-haired Sebelia was real, he continued to pretend to have amnesia for the same reason.
“I… I can’t bear it.”
To face it all would require enduring that much pain. To accept the reality, he would have to endure the sensation of his insides being torn and his heart being scratched.
That’s why Dehart refused to confront it head-on. He couldn’t even bring himself to face her gaze. He kept running, deceiving himself into thinking that running was the wisest choice.
But that, too, had reached its limit.
Sebelia.
“If I continue this false act, will I never be able to say that name again? Never again.”
Dehart buried his face in his hands and muttered with a cracking voice. The result of choosing the easy, painless path, the path of convenience, had led him here.
Even though Sebelia was alive before him, he would never be able to call her that name again. The only name he could call her was ‘Bella.’
The woman he had loved, his wife, was now lost in the past. Going forward, he would have to call her by another name, even though she was right in front of him.
How long?
For the rest of my life?
In that moment, an overwhelming sense of powerlessness gripped him as if he had been thrown into an endless darkness. It felt as if he was floundering helplessly in a bottomless pit.
Unknowingly, he had already whispered her true name. But in his self-loathing and regret, Dehart continued to struggle.
Through the crack in the door, a pair of eyes were watching him.
