We're Married, After All - Chapter 16
She pulled it out. A few withered petals came out with the stem.
After confirming that the piece of cloth remained undisturbed, she quickly exited the room. Her hand trembled uncontrollably as she closed the door.
Before leaving, she scanned the bookshelf one last time. Fortunately, the book she was looking for was tucked away in the most secluded corner. Unless someone was in the habit of organizing the shelves daily, its absence would likely go unnoticed.
She pulled the book out from between the tightly packed rows. Adjusting the spacing of the remaining books, she ensured no one would notice the empty spot.
She left the study and headed straight to her room. Tossing a practice spear carelessly in front of the door, she slammed it shut as if she had just returned. Only then could she breathe.
She placed the dried flowers and the thick book on her desk. The worn cover gleamed faintly with the title Plant Encyclopedia.
If she went to bed without drinking the tea the maid brought, she would always struggle with insomnia. On such nights, she could hear the footsteps of servants climbing the stairs around midnight.
Then came the sound of a trolley being wheeled, followed by the creak of the study door opening. That was likely when Danel’s tea time began.
Tonight was no different. As expected, Danel called for a servant late at night, and after some time, tea was prepared.
What was in that tea, no one knew.
As the night deepened, she slipped out of her bedroom. The mansion was shrouded in an eerie silence. After ensuring the grave-like stillness, she headed to the third floor.
The night I went up to the study, I immediately recognized the flowers lying in the basket. They were the same dried petals that were always in the tea prepared every night. According to the Plant Encyclopedia, they were a type of saripul, an herb used to relieve pain or induce sleep.
Perhaps it was because I had been suspicious all along, but when I found the flower halfway through the thick book, I wasn’t surprised at all. I was simply curious about its usage—how it should be consumed, in what quantity, and so on.
Naturally, the Plant Encyclopedia didn’t include such details.
In truth, knowing the exact dosage wouldn’t have been much use. Unlike me, Danel was highly knowledgeable about tea. He preferred variety over sticking to a single type of tea leaf. Mixing it into the tea he drank unnoticed would have been impossible.
So, I crushed the flowers into powder and poured it into the water jug meant for both Danel and me.
As a result, I hadn’t had a single drop of water since the afternoon, but it was bearable.
I opened the tightly shut study door. The quiet room was filled with the sound of steady breathing.
In the dim light of the scented candles, a man was asleep in front of the elegant desk. It was my husband, whom I was seeing for the first time in ten days.
I perched on the edge of the desk and waited for Danel to wake up. I didn’t know the precise effects of the herb, but I was aware that even with a much smaller dose, one could sleep until morning. The variable was the amount of water consumed.
Since the water jug was only about half full, he might wake up earlier than usual—perhaps even earlier than I normally would. Of course, it didn’t matter if he woke up later. My insomnia remained unchanged anyway.
The windless night deepened. The marigold-scented candle had burned halfway down, and the sky beyond the curtains darkened even further. Gradually, his breaths, which tickled my knees, grew shallower.
His eyelashes trembled faintly. Through the barely parted eyelids, violet irises peeked out. They were still dark, as if half-immersed in sleep.
And the moment his eyes returned to their usual clarity, Danel drew a sharp breath.
“……!”
Before long, he slowly lifted his head, as if his movements were rusted and stiff.
I waited for Danel with surprising patience. His trembling, unfocused eyes seemed filled with fear. And maybe it was because I didn’t even know what I wanted from him.
I really didn’t know. What question could I possibly ask my husband after discovering he had been drugging me with sleeping agents throughout our marriage? Especially when I already knew what he’d been doing after putting me to sleep.
That’s why I hoped Danel would speak first, no matter what he had to say.
But Danel said nothing. The suffocating silence stretched on, and eventually, my patience wore thin.
In the end, I dropped what I had been holding in my hand right in front of him.
“Explain this.”
The dried leaves and petals scattered as they crumbled.
“Even if I can’t understand everything, this is something I at least deserve to hear, isn’t it?”
Danel’s throat bobbed with a sharp gulp, but his lips stayed tightly shut.
I leaned forward until our eyes were level. Tilting my head, I studied his face—far more blatantly than I would have dared in any normal situation.
Even at this moment, my husband’s expression betrayed no cracks. If not for his gaze trembling subtly as it stayed fixed on the floor, I wouldn’t have realized he was gauging my reaction.
Why did he always pretend like nothing had happened? As if everything was perfectly normal.
“I can’t figure out what you’re thinking.”
The words slipped from my lips, a question I’d wanted to ask for the past six months. They sounded much drier than I had imagined.
