We're Married, After All - Chapter 56
However, there wasn’t a single book for him to read in the room. As if there was no expectation that he would ever regain consciousness to read one.
Eventually, after searching the bedside table, I collapsed onto the floor, exhausted.
“Ugh…”
I rested my forehead against the bed and closed my eyes for a moment. I had already drained much of my energy just getting here, and having spent the entire time rummaging through the room with my nerves on edge, fearing someone might come, I was utterly spent.
Above me, I could hear Petios breathing laboriously. That familiar, complex mixture of emotions surged through my chest once again as I faced him.
It was the first time I had come to see Petios alone, and it had been ages since I had been this close to him. Until now, I had only observed him from a distance, as dictated by the caregiver.
Sliding my hand under the blanket, I gently caressed his shoulder. No particular emotions stirred within me—there were no lingering feelings left to revive.
I had tried for years to love this man, but it never worked. More often than not, I found myself entirely disinterested. In truth, it was only the mutual respect for my own desires and the fact that he willingly accommodated them that kept our relationship going. If it were solely a matter of familial interests, we would have broken off the engagement long ago, especially since it was postponed for years due to his knightly exams.
For what it was worth, I enjoyed sleeping with Petios. I had touched his bare skin countless times.
So, it didn’t take me long to notice that.
The moment my hand brushed against his elbow, I realized his forearm was swollen.
The swelling was so severe it was noticeable even through the bandages.
The most pronounced area of swelling was a place I knew all too well—his wrist. The very spot he had fractured during that riding accident long ago.
The same accident that led me to step in for him in that duel.
Back then, Petios had fallen to his right side. His wrist and leg broke from hitting the ground first, and his ribs, kicked by the horse, cracked. We later discovered even one of his toes was fractured.
“…”
A sharp clarity jolted me back. Rising to my feet, I yanked the blanket off Petios entirely.
He was dressed in simple, practical clothing—easy to put on and take off, likely for treatment purposes. Beneath the plain fabric, his gaunt frame was fully revealed.
I touched Petios’s body as though retracing old memories. Lifting the fabric here and there, I found numerous scars. Most were sharp, deliberate cuts, likely made to draw out bad blood.
But some couldn’t be explained that way. His right big toe, for example, was burned black as though seared with fire. His right leg was covered in red blotches. His wrist—the same wrist—was twisted unnaturally, as if it had been improperly healed.
“Are you serious…?”
A groan escaped my lips before I realized it.
If I were to assume it was all part of his treatment, none of it seemed out of place. The caregiver had mentioned Petios suffered from severe skin conditions, which explained why they advised against direct contact. Wrapping wounds in bandages was standard treatment for such ailments. His toe? Extremities were prone to decay; cauterization was common when pus began to form.
The wrist… well, wrists were a common site of injury. When people fall, they instinctively reach out their hands to brace themselves. For a patient prone to wild, erratic movements due to drug-induced mania, it made sense.
But not Petios.
I stared down at him blankly.
His wrist injury had been the last and most persistent issue to plague him. It was the reason his bones took so long to heal and the very reason I stepped in for him during that duel. Even after recovery, it continued to trouble him.
He used to flinch whenever someone grabbed his wrist too hard.
Even when he fell down stairs, he instinctively protected his wrist first.
“…”
A vague sense of unease that had been lingering in my mind suddenly crystallized. This wasn’t treatment—it was torture, carefully disguised as medical care. Subtle enough that only I, his betrothed since birth and the one who had spent decades caring for him, could recognize it.
With trembling hands, I pulled the blanket back over him.
A memory of something Danel once said reverberated through my mind.
“You never question others, easily accepting whatever they tell you. So why is it that when it comes to me, you doubt everything and insist on uncovering the truth? You’ve never done that with anyone else.”
Danel knew me better than I had expected. He was certain I wouldn’t take an interest in him or his actions. He knew that even if he were to hide something, I wouldn’t be curious enough to uncover it.
That’s why he orchestrated this elaborate deception—one that no one but me would ever question.
