In the end, Elise discreetly summoned Freya to her room.
“You haven’t started yet?” Freya inquired upon arrival.
“No, not yet,” Elise confessed. Perhaps due to the rapid recovery of her health during the past few months in Rotiara, her menstruation had returned as scheduled, signaling a potential change in her circumstances. Elise nervously bit her lip, her mind swirling with unspoken fears.
“It’s usually irregular…” she trailed off, unable to voice her deepest concern.
“That’s right. Let’s try a blood test for now,” Freya suggested.
“Is there a possibility?” Elise hesitated, unable to muster the courage to speak the word ‘pregnancy’ aloud.
Freya’s frown deepened. “It’s difficult to make hasty judgments with such subtle symptoms. But don’t have high hopes. High expectations lead to great disappointment, as last time.”
“I see…” Elise responded softly.
It took several days to confirm the pregnancy through the drawn blood. Each day waiting for the results felt interminable, stretching on like a never-ending week.
Elise found herself pacing between the bedroom and living room, unable to find solace in the familiar surroundings. Eventually, unable to bear the tension any longer, she descended the stairs leading to the study.
Naturally, the study, vacant with its owner absent, was devoid of life. Elise lingered in the room for hours, enveloped in a silence broken only by the soft rustle of papers. She refrained from lighting a candle, allowing the darkness to add to the eerie atmosphere.
She tried sitting at the desk, then moved to huddle on the sofa, her mind consumed by thoughts of what the future might hold. Her fingers absently toyed with the papers and ink bottle on the side table, each item a reminder of the man she would soon bid farewell to.
Mocking herself, she reached for the neatly folded garment resting on the chair. Drawing it close, she buried her face into the indoor gown, a garment often adorned by Rezette. Inhaling deeply, she hoped to catch a hint of his familiar scent, but instead, was met with only the sterile smell of dry fabric.
“It can’t be,” she whispered to herself, trying to quell the rising tide of panic.
It won’t happen.
But what if, just what if it does….
Then what?
Her heart raced wildly within her chest. If she were pregnant, if it were indeed true…
“Okay, shall I?” she murmured aloud, her voice barely above a whisper.
Despite being trapped in a dire situation with seemingly no escape, ironically, that thought came first. Elise struggled to break free from the endless loops of expectation and anxiety, grappling with her fears alone.
The dizziness hit before the test results arrived. On the third morning, a faint trace of blood stained her underwear. It was lighter than usual, but unmistakably blood.
The moment she confirmed the faint streaks of blood, a dizzying sensation engulfed her, as if the world had suddenly shifted on its axis.
“Oh no. Thank goodness,” she breathed, relief mingling with a strange sense of disappointment.
It’s fortunate, but…
Elise was taken aback by the tears cascading down her cheeks, wetting her palms. Her heart shattered into a million pieces without mercy or restraint.
Something felt inexplicably futile. Why this overwhelming sense of disappointment? Why did her heart ache so intensely?
Was it because she had finally accepted the absence of any tangible connection between her and Rezette, a realization that stung with bitter finality?
“The child soon to be born, how beautiful will they be?”
“I’ve never seen Your Lordship with such a gentle face before.”
“I hope the second child will be a lovely princess. Actually, whichever it is, they will bring another blessing to Rotiara!”
The air was thick with countless compliments and affectionate blessings directed towards her on Harvest Festival day, each one hitting her like a wave.
Even if they were just words, they felt good. Admirative and reverent gazes swept over her, eliciting a flutter in her chest. Yet, amidst the sea of well-wishes, Elise couldn’t shake off a feeling of disdain.
In truth, she had never given much thought to such things herself.
She hoped for a daughter, one who would be healthy and bear a resemblance to her husband rather than herself. Yet, she also harbored a desire for the child to possess affectionate brown locks like Andrei’s…
These were dreams that Elise had nurtured since her days isolated within the walls of the Argan Palace. The dream of finding someone who would love her, of bearing his child, and of crafting a happy family before her inevitable demise. It was the most beautiful future imaginable for a sickly girl who couldn’t fathom the concept of tomorrow.
But dreams were just that—dreams. Reality was a harsh mistress, yet foolishly, she couldn’t release herself from the grip of futile expectations.
“At last, the era of peace has come to this land!”
If only she could blend seamlessly into the jubilant crowds, basking in the happiness that enveloped them. If only this were her country. If only that man were Arganian, or at least not a Van Yelan. If only he were a simple villager, not a knight…
Useless fantasies scattered like falling snowflakes in her mind, leaving behind a bitter taste of longing.
It would have been nice if things were like that.
“This place was never truly meant for me,” she whispered, the words heavy with resignation.
