Come and Cry at My Funeral - Chapter 207
Portrait
This child hardly let her eat anything. As a result, her belly barely showed, making it difficult to estimate how far along her pregnancy was.
Since her belly hadn’t grown, it was easy to think of what was inside her not as a living baby but as a bad seed tormenting its mother.
A monster that inherited nothing but the worst traits from its father, making its mother’s life unbearable.
Because of that, she could consider carrying it as a tool to torment Izar and then die together without feeling a shred of guilt.
‘At least, I thought that’s how I felt…’
Until the baby, so early in the pregnancy, suddenly announced its presence by striking her belly with a sharp thump.
Just before the cold sun rose, it wasn’t only Freesia who felt that tiny knock, as though someone were rapping at the door of the world.
Izar, whose arm was wrapped around her waist, froze entirely, clearly sensing it too.
Up until that moment, the two of them had been discussing miscarriage or abandoning the child, but now they were struck silent.
In the end, the two of them quietly watched as the brilliant crimson sunlight spread across the hills, so vivid it almost hurt to look at.
Freesia’s sudden attempt to end her life, the scar now etched beneath Izar’s left eye, and the bloodied white flower-pendant necklace that had been discarded—all of it seemed to vanish into nothing.
But the belly that was now starting to swell ever so slightly could no longer be ignored.
Freesia placed a hand over her abdomen, almost as if to cradle it.
“…Do you want to live?”
As if in response, a blunt stirring shifted beneath her palm.
How absurd. Even her first child, who had been awaited with all the love, hope, and expectation in the world, hadn’t been this lively.
‘How is it that this child asserts itself so strongly even before it’s born…’
Yet the bitterness in her thoughts lacked its former venom. After feeling the baby move, she couldn’t even bring herself to think hateful things.
This child… had merely been denied the freedom to choose its parents.
Just as Freesia, despite her own wishes, had been born to her mother and inherited all her sorrow.
“What am I supposed to do with you…?”
Freesia murmured again, stroking her belly.
Her plan had always been to end this revenge with her own death. The baby had been part of that plan, destined to follow her into death.
But that was no longer an option.
While Freesia herself… didn’t necessarily want to live, she no longer wanted to threaten the life of the baby.
Now, with only 90 days of her life remaining.
‘Izar seems… different lately.’
He hadn’t left her side for even a moment, though he merely sat silently and watched her eat.
Freesia decided to take advantage of his presence to get some nourishment. At least when Izar was nearby, the baby seemed willing to let her swallow food without protest…
She glanced at his profile out of the corner of her eye and frowned.
‘Is he leaving that scar there on purpose for me to see?’
The small scar beneath Izar’s left eye.
It did nothing to mar his sharply sculpted face, but seeing it constantly reminded her of that day.
‘How annoying.’
If he summoned the doctors, they could easily erase a scar that small, the length of two fingers, completely. It wasn’t a badge of honor, so what was the point of leaving it there?
She suddenly felt a sense of unease.
“Izar.”
“…Hm?”
“Are you… sleeping properly?”
The face, illuminated by the patterned shadows of the window, resembled a pale marble carving, but the once-brilliant gold eyes beneath were dulled and clouded.
Dark shadows pooled beneath his extinguished golden gaze.
Freesia slowly reached out toward his face. His lips tightened, but he didn’t avoid her touch.
The skin beneath her palm felt icy, like that of a corpse.
Although they had spent almost every day together since leaving the palace, this was the first time she felt like she was truly seeing his face.
“…You look like you haven’t slept in days.”
“I’m sleeping enough.”
Izar replied in a low, sunken voice, his eyes fixed on the faint horizontal lines etched into her thin wrist.
Had he been sleeping properly? Freesia doubted it. Between worrying about her dwindling lifespan and the reports of increasing rebellions, it was unlikely.
‘He tried to get some rest, at least.’
But even during those times, he often woke from nightmares and chose to stay awake instead. At least while he was awake, Freesia was breathing.
But would it still be like that a few months from now…?
Izar took the awkwardly resting hand on his cheek and held it.
“Should we commission a portrait?”
“A portrait, suddenly?”
“Yes.”
Izar clasped her hand tightly. Though his voice remained calm, he felt his insides slowly drying out.
“I think we should have an artist make one.”
“……”
“A small one, too, to send to the palace. I’m sure they would appreciate it.”
