Chapter 253

Chapter 253

Lucius collapsed slowly into her arms, sinking to his knees. His tear-streaked cheek pressed against her abdomen, and through ragged breaths, he pleaded.

“Please, accept me. Need me. Just like I want you, want me too. It’s not hard, is it? You love me too, don’t you? Right?”

His tear-filled voice enveloped her, damp and heavy, and Deatrice felt herself being submerged, as though her emotions were pulling her under, starting from her ankles.

“I’m so lonely.”

His hand slid up her waist, his touch through the wool fabric wrapping around her.

“Even after you returned, I didn’t feel like we were together. You were always looking elsewhere. I suffered too. It wasn’t just hard for you. Do you think it was easy for me to bear? It was horrible. I thought we could fix things, but I was also terrified it might really be over. But it’s not, is it? It’s not really over. So please, just…”

“…”

“Love me.”

Lucius, utterly broken, buried his face into her stomach, holding her tightly as though she were the only thing tethering him to reality. How could anyone reject a man so shattered, begging for love?

Deatrice pitied him, and at the same time, as he pleaded for her love, she felt it well up within her, like unlocking a hidden chamber in her heart.

“Lucius.”

In the end, she knelt down as well, stroking his tear-soaked cheek.

“How could I not love you?”

She whispered with sincerity, but Lucius didn’t believe her.

The love she spoke of always seemed to differ from his. It wasn’t that one was superior to the other, but there was an undeniable gap between them, a wall that couldn’t be crossed. Lucius wanted her to want him the way he wanted her.

But that didn’t stop him from accepting her gentle touch, nor did he push her away as she softly caressed him.

She whispered again.

“There hasn’t been a moment when I didn’t love you. But it seems I’m destined to hurt you, time and again. I knew I would wound you, yet I thought something else was more important.”

“…”

“I didn’t want to show you my broken self. Things often grow ugly at the end. I never told you, but that’s how my mother died—suffering from her illness. I was afraid of her. She didn’t feel like my mother anymore, and when she finally passed, I was relieved. It’s a horrible thing to say. I regret thinking that way now. But thoughts are like momentary sins. Regretting them doesn’t make the past any less wrong. I was afraid our end would be the same—ugly, filled with regret. That future seemed so real, as if I could touch it.”

“That’s foolish.”

“No, it’s not foolish. If anything, you’re foolish for choosing me.”

He lifted his tear-filled eyes and looked at her, frustration and resentment mingling in his gaze, as if asking how she could still say such things.

She quietly smiled, her lips curling upward as she continued.

“You’re right. Wanting freedom was a lie. What I truly wanted was to escape. From you, from the hope that we could ever be happy. I thought that only if I gave you up, you could reclaim everything you deserved. Just because you inherit the title of Duke doesn’t mean anything will change. Loving me is still a poison for you. You know that.”

“Kiss me.”

No matter what she said, Lucius was lost in his fixation with her, murmuring like he had in the past. The more anxious he was, the more desperately and stubbornly he clung. Knowing this, Deatrice didn’t resist. Instead, she quietly and submissively pressed her lips to his. The soft warmth that enveloped her was still something she liked.

From the moment the seeds of despair and anxiety were planted in her hands, she had always envisioned a future of ruin. But now, seeing him break down before her in a completely different way, for the first time, she realized that perhaps she had been wrong all along.

His collapse didn’t feel ugly or overwhelming, as she had imagined. Instead, he seemed tender and pitiable.

Matching the affection he poured over her, indescribable emotions surged within her heart.

“Lucius.”

His name felt like a spell whispered in a gentle blue hue. She repeated it, kissing her way down from his lips to his cheek.

Lucius pulled away slightly to look at her face, as if unsure whether her response was genuine affection or fleeting pity.

But gazing at someone’s face doesn’t provide answers to feelings. Her expression was gentle, soft, glowing with affection. Whether it was pity or genuine love, it was impossible to tell.

Lucius, too, was so fragile. Even if what she offered was nothing more than fleeting sympathy, he couldn’t help but cling to it.

Finally, pressing his lips to her cheek and feeling her breath against him, he murmured softly.

“Even if it’s poison, I don’t care. I’d drink from you a thousand times over.”

She couldn’t deny the inevitable fate that bound them.