The Abandoned and Terminally Ill Lady Married a Monster - Chapter 61
Chapter 61
My blood ran cold. Had I made a mistake by kneeling so abruptly without even a greeting? Or had I somehow blundered again, oblivious to proper etiquette?
“My dear.”
Mother’s deep voice settled heavily in the air. Her shadow fell over me, darkening as her hand approached. Instinctively, I squeezed my eyes shut.
“Rise.”
Contrary to my expectations, Mother simply grasped my shoulders, offering no harm. Instead, she helped me up.
Suddenly standing, I was forced to look directly at her face. My breath caught in my throat at the sight of her rigid expression. What had I done wrong this time?
Mother stared at me for a long moment before speaking, her voice laced with frustration. “Ailee Blashur. You are now a member of the Blashur Ducal family, and the Duchess.”
Ailee Blashur. The name Kin had used yesterday.
Her emphasis on “Blashur” suggested my failure to act like a Duchess was the source of her displeasure. But how could I act like a Duchess when I had no idea what that entailed?
The Lizziana County had drilled into me the importance of avoiding reproach within the Ducal family. If anyone took offense, I was to beg forgiveness. That was all I knew—how to grovel and plead for mercy.
My upbringing had taught me to apologize, whether at fault or not.
Mother’s gaze was firm. “Therefore, do not kneel or bow your head so readily.”
Her words contradicted everything I had learned.
“If you err, apologize to the extent of your transgression. If you are not at fault, there is no need for apologies.”
My eyes blurred. But Mother, I was raised in a place where I had to prostrate myself and beg forgiveness, even when I’d done nothing wrong. It wasn’t a matter of etiquette; it was a matter of survival.
The unspoken retort echoed within me.
“You did nothing wrong yesterday. The fault lies with me.”
Mother sighed and took my hand firmly in hers. Startled, I almost pulled away instinctively, but she seemed not to notice. The hardness in her face softened, and a faint smile touched her strong features.
“It might be difficult for you to express justified anger and refrain from apologizing unnecessarily right now. It’s alright. We’ll take it one step at a time.”
She caressed my hand with both of hers. “I apologize for startling you yesterday. I waited until today to apologize, fearing I would frighten you further if I came immediately. Will you forgive me?”
“No, Mother. I, I was wrong—”
Mother wasn’t at fault. The blame was entirely mine. This marriage was a mistake from the start, and I had offered no explanation, even knowing she treated me like any other noble lady. I was the one who had deceptively concealed the truth. I was the one who, despite being born a noble, remained foolishly ignorant.
I was the one who had run away. Mother had no reason to apologize. I tried to apologize again, but the words caught in my throat as she looked at me intently, a smile on her face, yet with a subtle sharpness in her eyes.
“So you forgive me?”
That wasn’t what I meant. But I feared the consequences of contradicting her.
“Thank you for your forgiveness.”
And with that, Mother brought the matter to a close, still insisting the fault was hers.
Why…? I felt I should respond, but words failed me. It was unfamiliar to hear someone say I wasn’t at fault, and even more so to see an elder apologize to me.
While I stood there dumbfounded, Mother picked up her parasol again, still holding my hand, and began to walk. I had no choice but to follow.
Mother, I…
I don’t deserve your apology.
Not only have I usurped the place beside your precious son, but I am also unrefined, lacking in every way. I cannot bear children, and I won’t live long.
My silent confession went unheard. Fear of future repercussions made me hesitate. Mother looked back at me, a question in her eyes.
“Mother, I…”
As if she had read my thoughts, she cut me off firmly. “Enough thinking. Let us enjoy ourselves.”
A playful smile spread across her face, mirroring Kin’s. “It would be a shame to waste such a beautiful spring day.”
It was my first time sharing a parasol. The warmth of spring tickled my palm. Mother walked on, holding the parasol casually.
Where are we going?
Without any information, every step felt like a test of my awareness. And there was something else. I felt I should be holding the parasol.
I glanced sideways at Mother and finally reached out cautiously. My hand hovered awkwardly in the air, just short of the parasol.
“Let me hold that.”
“Hmm? I can’t quite hear you. Look at those lovely flowers over there.”
