[CHAPTER 101]
“……What?”
Harvich was Lincia’s husband.
And wasn’t it only natural for a husband to worry about his wife who had just given birth and to check on her condition?
Yet now, he was being stopped from doing that natural thing.
On what grounds? Under what pretext?
Harvich even remembered the last letter he had seen before coming to the villa.
[ The Grand Duchess is in critical condition. ]
Was it because Lincia’s condition was not good, and they were trying to keep her from him?
Or had something gone wrong while she was giving birth?
“Right now, my lady needs rest, so sudden visits should be avoided……”
A maid was trying to say something to him, but there was no way a man imagining the worst could hear her words.
Before the maid even finished speaking, Harvich flung open the bedroom door.
He checked the room the mistress used first, but it was empty.
At the villa now, there were only Lincia, the midwife, the maid, and the knight.
There should have been many empty rooms, but each time he opened one, the lack of presence made his heart pound.
“Lincia.”
He needed to smell her, the woman with dark hair, purple eyes, and the scent of acacia, just to feel alive.
Finally, he opened the door to the bedroom at the farthest corner.
Unlike the others, it was relatively dark.
In the dim space, with no lantern lit, someone was sitting there.
* * *
Lincia frowned at the light that spilled in as the door swung open.
She instinctively knew it was Harvich who had opened it.
No one who had spent time with her at the villa had opened the door like that.
This was why she had recently avoided seeing light.
Moving to another room was for the same reason.
If darkness did not settle, Lincia could not face her child.
Facing a newborn without even a name in bright light was unbearable.
Seeing the man’s face after so long, she thought of the child.
A child who resembled him too much and was excessively healthy.
Once, Lincia had asked the doctor, worried that she had not carried to the usual term.
“Among the newborns I’ve delivered so far, this one is the most robust.”
The doctor replied,
“If the full term had been reached, the mother might have been at risk.”
His words, meant to ease her guilt, only increased her aversion toward the child.
Though she had never shown it directly…
Whenever Lincia saw the child’s face, painful memories surfaced and made her uneasy.
Moreover, this child resembled Harvich so much.
At that thought, Lincia wanted, if possible, to distance herself from the very being that had gnawed at her.
“Lincia.”
Harvich called her name.
His red eyes softened when they found her.
She looked away from the eyes that shimmered as if they might shed tears any moment.
She had expected to feel resentment toward him, wanting to unleash her blame, but surprisingly, she did not.
Harvich walked to the bedside and took Lincia’s hand.
“I am sorry for being late.”
With his other hand, he brushed her cheek.
Lincia did not shy away from his touch, though it did not feel welcome either.
“Are you feeling well?”
Harvich continued despite her silence.
“I am sorry I could not be by your side.”
His repeated apologies failed to reach her.
He did not need to apologize for such things; the real apology he owed her was far beyond this.
Lincia withdrew her hand from his.
His gaze wavered slightly.
“Please, say something. Anything.”
Harvich begged from the foot of the bed.
“Go away. I want to be alone.”
“That cannot be. Please, stay a little longer. I want to know you are alright.”
“I will leave.”
Lincia got up from the bed.
Just standing made her sway heavily.
Harvich panicked and tried to support her, but she refused.
She touched the wall and walked slowly, and he rose hastily.
“Stay here. I will step out.”
Harvich left the room immediately, fearing she might leave.
* * *
Lincia, whom he had seen after a long time, looked thinner than in his memory.
Her face bore no part unmarred—swollen eyes, bruised lips.
Seeing her suffering hurt him.
He wanted her to blame him, to scream, to vent.
It might have eased her heart a little.
But Lincia sat silently, expressionless.
To Harvich, she looked like someone quietly crying, which kept weighing on his mind.
He wanted to stay longer, but Lincia did not welcome him.
She would not allow him to be near.
Harvich sat in front of her bedroom.
What if she withered away and died like this?
Fear gripped him.
Perhaps he felt relief simply because she was alive, for exhaustion soon overwhelmed him.
He had traveled tirelessly for five days and nights.
His body had reached its limit.
Naturally, thoughts of the child had long been pushed aside.
“Your Grace.”
As he was about to sleep outside her bedroom, he lifted his head at the voice calling him.
The doctor Harvich had carefully chosen stood there.
At her signal to move, he rose.
“What is it?”
Harvich asked, swallowing his fatigue.
“It is late, but we would like to register the birth. Have you thought of a name for the child to be entered in the records?”
Harvich moved his lips.
Even in his exhausted state, he realized something was terribly wrong.
“If it is a boy, Lucas. If it is a girl, Astelia.”
“We will register him as Lucas Cassius.”
Harvich hurriedly stopped the doctor who was turning away.
“How long has it been since the child was born?”
“Ten days today.”
The doctor looked down, embarrassed.
“…I see.”
A look of dismay spread over Harvich’s face.
He had left no record of the child’s name, though it was not that he had failed to choose one.
He had delayed, unsure what Lincia would like, wanting to give the best possible name.
Harvich turned.
He wanted to explain to Lincia immediately.
It was not that he had not named the child; he had planned to be by her side at birth.
He had intended to give the child a name at the very moment it was born.
But now, all his explanations had become excuses, and even that was too late.
A husband who had had no contact for a long time.
A husband who had not named the child.
What could Lincia have thought of such a husband?
Harvich froze, stopping before her.
He was gripped by the fear that Lincia might never forgive him.
Or perhaps, even a lifetime would not be enough.
Even among loving couples, if a husband did not name the child, suspicion of infidelity arose.
But this husband, who suspected no one, had not named the child.
That was tantamount to refusing to acknowledge the child.
Sleep fled instantly.
A chill ran down his spine.
Pressing his temples, Harvich asked,
“Where is the child?”
“Usually, my lady would see him at this hour… but now…”
Harvich strode into the room where he had first seen the child.
In the cradle lay the child, now silent.
“Lucas.”
Harvich called the child’s name.
The child opened his eyes.
