The Abandoned and Terminally Ill Lady Married a Monster - Chapter 57
Chapter 57
Lunch—I couldn’t recall if I’d even eaten it. Kin’s departure had left the bedroom feeling overwhelmingly large. I sat on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.
“A month….”
Why a month? The words had tumbled out, a hasty timeframe plucked from thin air. Not a week, but a whole month.
Had I secretly yearned to stay by Kin’s side a little longer? Or did I somehow believe it would take a month for him to truly dislike me? I questioned my motives, but the answers remained elusive.
“What am I going to do about Mother?” The words escaped like a sigh. Just an hour ago, I’d stormed out of my first tea with her, feigning ignorance and weeping like a fool.
I hadn’t expected instant affection, but the thought of facing her disapproval for the next month, after she’d expressed such fondness for me, made my head throb.
“I can’t afford any more stress.” Experience told me that this throbbing would soon escalate into a crushing weight, followed by the inevitable vomiting of blood. Then, the numbness, the aching, the feeling of blood draining from my body.
“If I collapse here, they’ll insist on a doctor.” And then, my secret would be revealed. The shame of my past clung to me, a suffocating weight around my neck. Perhaps that’s why I’d offered a month—a desperate attempt to conceal the truth.
Revealing it would require immense courage. Even the thought of voicing my tragic history stole my breath. The foolish trust, the sweet words about shared secrets, the pills I’d swallowed so eagerly, unaware of their true nature. And later, even after the truth was revealed, the desperate desire for acceptance that drove me to continue taking them, like a madwoman.
…How much? How many? I would have to tell them everything.
I wished I could sever the past, cut it away completely. But I couldn’t.
Frustration welled up, and I exhaled sharply. My jaw ached. I hadn’t even realized I’d been clenching my teeth. The pain radiated through my jaw, a dull, persistent throb.
I lowered my gaze from the ceiling and stared blankly at the wall. Without thinking, I murmured the new name Kin had given me.
“Ailee Blashur.”
My chest tightened, a ripple of unease spreading through me. Would that name be etched on my tombstone? Or perhaps I wouldn’t even have a tombstone, left abandoned somewhere, forgotten. Already, I felt the life draining from me, like a corpse. I whispered Kin’s name.
“Kin.”
If I told him, if I told him I was dying, would he be angry? Furious that I hadn’t told him sooner? Or would he feel contempt, his time wasted on a hopeless cause?
I had asked him for a divorce. I had told him I wanted to leave.
The guilt was a physical ache, a different kind of pain than the one that preceded the bleeding. I curled up, small and vulnerable, like a creature seeking shelter.
I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. But I couldn’t bear to share this burden. It’s too cruel, too painful.
…No. I’m just a coward.
Terrified of my own past, a trembling, pathetic coward.
Yes, that’s it. I’m a coward.
But you said you loved me, even me.
Conflicting emotions surged within me, rising and falling like a tide. I defended myself, blaming Kin to ease the guilt. Then, I turned the blame inwards, hating myself for my weakness.
But these warring emotions were a facade. Beneath it all, there was only one truth I wanted to express, a truth so bitter that I masked it with other, more volatile feelings.
All I wanted to say was, “I’m sorry.”
I’m sorry, I’m a coward.
I apologized silently, in the empty room, stifling the true emotion. I closed my eyes, recalling my favorite passage from the book I’d given Kin, the one with the pressed cosmos flower.
“And they lived happily ever after.”
