When That Door Opens - Chapter 11
Crash!
The heavy burden slipped from Yvonne’s hands and tumbled across the floor as she rushed out of the house, as if being chased. Stumbling to the bed, she collapsed and covered her mouth. She felt a scream trying to escape through her fingers.
Jerome is a duke? The Jerome she knew was not someone so grand.
He was…
‘Who is he?’
Her trembling hands abruptly stopped, and her wandering eyes froze. As she sat there like a stone, Yvonne realized she knew nothing about Jerome.
She squeezed her eyes shut, desperately trying to recall the past year they had spent together. She wanted to remember what she knew about him. But all she found was a blank void.
How had she never found it strange? She only knew him as ‘Jerome’. She knew nothing of his surname, his occupation. She didn’t know where he lived or if he had a family. In retrospect, he had told her nothing.
Even when she had opened up about her lonely childhood and her mother and father, he had just listened quietly.
He had never shared anything.
“Why…?”
Yvonne murmured blankly. Then, a surge of anger welled up. She wanted to confront him, to ask why he hadn’t told her anything, why he hadn’t revealed who he really was.
But then she hit another wall.
Where should she go to find him?
He was always the one who came to her. If he decided one day not to come anymore, their year together could simply disappear as if it had never happened.
“Ah, so that’s why.”
It was a bitter realization. She now understood why he had never told her anything. She felt foolish. How had she been so clueless for an entire year?
He always came at night, avoiding prying eyes. And she would sit in this room, waiting for the door to open. He hid his identity, visited, mixed bodies, and left.
Their relationship was like…
A hollow laugh escaped Yvonne’s lips. It was a laugh of self-mockery at her own foolishness.
“Lovers. Lovers, huh?”
Know your place. Yvonne’s face twisted. She covered her ugly face with her hands. Thick tears dropped incessantly. She hugged her knees and curled up smaller. It felt like she could hear the world mocking her.
You should have known your place!
She stayed in that spot, unmoving, until the cold draft seeped through the cracks in the wooden floor and the sun set, bringing darkness.
“Please.”
For the first time, she prayed while looking at the firmly closed door. Please, let the door not open today. Let him not come. It was the first time she felt this way since meeting Jerome.
But even that hope seemed too much to ask for.
Knock, knock.
“Yvonne.”
He opened the door, looking exactly the same as the last time he came. From head to toe, he was completely concealed.
As if searching for her was something shameful.
“…Yvonne?”
Perhaps he was startled by the unusual darkness in the room. Jerome paused briefly but soon saw Yvonne crouched by the bed and approached her with long strides.
“Yvonne, what’s wrong?”
His large hand grasped her shoulder, but Yvonne did not answer. She only thought about how out of place he seemed in this space, with her reddened eyes.
She remembered seeing him during the day, the image of him at Count Alpen’s house. In that splendid place where she felt like nothing more than a vase, Jerome was one of them.
He belonged in a place like that, not in her worn-out house.
“…Have you been crying?”
He asked, brushing his fingers beneath Yvonne’s eyes.
“What happened? Who did this, Yvonne?”
His voice grew even softer, as if he genuinely cared for her.
“What happened, tell me…”
So Yvonne kissed him. She grabbed the front of his robe, which he hadn’t yet taken off, and pulled him forcefully. She pushed her way into his mouth just like he used to do to her.
I hate you.
She hated him.
She angrily explored his mouth with her tongue, rough with the overwhelming emotions she felt. Ignoring his stiffness, she forced herself upon him.
“Yvonne…”
“Don’t touch me.”
Smack!
Yvonne harshly slapped away Jerome’s hand as he tried to embrace her. It was the first time she had ever refused his touch. Jerome’s eyes hardened.
“Why are you acting like this, Yvonne?”
His eyes, dark as the pre-dawn light, stared at her.
“Who upset you this much?”
