Come and Cry at My Funeral - Chapter 197
Second tea party
Freesia glanced back at the man awaiting her reaction, her expression incredulous.
“Do you really need to worry this much? It’s like you think I’m about to do something drastic.”
“I’ve heard enough to know I can’t be at ease.”
Izar responded flatly, but in truth, he suffered nightmares nightly.
Freesia deliberately jumping down the staircase. Freesia hanging herself. Freesia throwing her body into the darkness because she couldn’t bear to live in his world any longer.
Although she now carried a child and seemed content with her reality…
‘You never know. She might still want to die, deep down.’
His grip on her hand tightened slightly.
He wanted to make her happy, to fill her life with so much attachment to living that she wouldn’t want to leave it behind.
He had promised as much, but Izar himself wasn’t sure what happiness truly meant. Looking back on his life, had there ever been a moment he could call happy?
The closest had been in his childhood, watching a girl with pale hair from a distance.
‘And after that?’
The years spent leading monster subjugation efforts for his family’s honor had once felt meaningful.
But compared to the days when Freesia whispered that she loved him, those years were pale and empty. Yet, even if he confessed his love now, it wouldn’t make Freesia happy.
‘I’d be lucky if she doesn’t find it revolting.’
Izar scoffed at himself.
Ultimately, the only solution he could think of was to ensure Freesia’s physical comfort as much as possible.
Thankfully, the opportunity presented itself sooner than expected, as Freesia suddenly clamped a hand over her mouth mid-sentence.
“Even with a child, I wouldn’t… mmph!”
“Wait, Freesia.”
The moment she staggered, Izar swiftly scooped her into his arms. It wasn’t the first time this had happened during their journey to the duchy, so laying her down on the bed was second nature to him by now.
He barked orders at the imperial attendants rushing toward the door.
“Bring medications suitable for the imperial descendant, ones she can take right now.”
“Yes, Milord!”
Freesia, dizzy and nauseous, simply listened to the flurry of activity around her.
Through her teary, blurred vision, she saw Izar personally testing each medicine and drink. He was obsessively meticulous about anything entering her body.
While the emperor and prince had been attentive in the capital, once they left, Izar had become obsessively watchful of every aspect of Freesia’s well-being.
She found his care irritating, though she hid her annoyance by covering her face with her sleeve.
‘Is this baby already siding with their father before they’re even born?’
Unlike her first child, who had only timidly wished for wild berries, this one was already tormenting her with nausea.
‘Not that it matters. I won’t love you.’
Freesia deliberately hardened her thoughts, rebuking the baby that had given Izar a chance at redemption.
‘My first child was the only real one. You’re just a tool that happened to appear by chance.’
A tool to plunge Izar into despair. She had no name in mind, no interest in the baby’s gender. She only wished for it to stay still while she carried it, so she wouldn’t even grow fond of it out of hatred.
“Feeling any better now?”
Even as Izar fed her the medicine himself and wiped the cold sweat from her forehead, she couldn’t bring herself to feel tenderness.
No, she didn’t want to feel it.
“…Yes, thank you.”
“I hope you’ll feel better soon.”
Izar murmured as he pressed the back of his hand to her cheek. She hadn’t been eating well since they were in the capital, and she seemed to grow thinner by the day.
Unwilling to hear his worried tone any longer, Freesia forced a topic change.
“In a few weeks, I should improve… That’s what they say about the second trimester.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. They also say staying cooped up in a room isn’t good, so I should go outside more.”
“Then perhaps you could learn to handle a mace on pleasant days.”
“…Really?”
“You enjoyed archery, didn’t you?”
Izar held her hand. Her small hand was cold, likely from her morning sickness, and he gently rubbed her palm, hoping to share a bit of warmth.
“By next year’s hunting festival, you’ll be hosting other ladies yourself.”
“……”
Freesia’s brow twitched slightly. Izar’s behavior irritated her in countless ways.
It was annoying that he insisted on playing the role of a doting husband to his pregnant wife, but even more so that he kept injecting expectations about the future into their conversations.
Still, she forced a smile and replied.
“That sounds fun. Though by then…”
I’ll already be dead. And this time, I will die with your child in my womb.
Even someone like you, who can’t distinguish between lust and love, will be shocked by that, won’t you? At the very least, you seem to care about having children.
Even if it’s a child born from a wretched, illegitimate bastard like me.
‘Ah, I can’t wait to say it.’
She was itching to tear into Izar’s heart with those words. But Freesia held back, suppressing the sweet temptation.
A grand plan required patience. Lots of patience.
