Chapter 148 All My Heart
Ophelia could barely stomach her food for days to come. She was queasy and teary-eyed throughout the entire week, weeping in silence and in the comfort of Killorn who took her pain and burdened it upon his shoulders. She was an uncontrollable mess at times, finding herself embroidering to forget the time, but ripping the cloth in anger. Whenever she'd prick her fingers, she was reminded of what had happened that night. Of what she lost. Of the drastic changes that came with her sacrifice. Her external injuries were minor, but she discovered she bled red now. Not silver. And her hair had developed an unnatural shade of light blond. "They're as beautiful as faded gold tanned by sunlight," Killorn reassured her when he found her absentmindedly touching her braid with a book in her lap. She stared into the distance, beyond the trees, and into a faraway land.
"My eyes are still purple, unfortunately," Ophelia muttered, rustling the corners of the barely touched novel in her hands. The world seemed to be returning to peace, but here she was, lost in the past.
The maybes. The what ifs. The things she'd do to go back in time. But that was the problem with life, wasn't it? She'd just have to live with the consequences of her actions and hope life went on. "You make that sound like a problem," Killorn mused, approaching her and gathering her tiny frame into his arms. He settled her onto her lap as the two sat by the window nook, continuing to watch the people outside. What ran through her pretty little mind? He'd pay any price to get a glimpse, no matter how small.
"That's b-because it is," Ophelia frowned whilst leaning back and settling herself comfortably in his arms. She always loved how warm he was, as if he was her personal fireplace. She relished in his powerful stature that was wrapped with muscles, but always soft to lay against.
"Nothing about you is ever the problem, Ophelia," Killorn muttered, pressing his mouth against the crown of her head. She fell silent for the longest time, sullen and sunken.
Ophelia appreciated his efforts in the past few days since their dreaded discovery. He always tried his best to keep her company, to be her knight in shining armor, and to crack jokes whenever he could. He seldom strayed too far from her and always came back early from his work, eager to soothe her in any manner possible.
"How are you doing this?" Ophelia asked out of nowhere, unable to tolerate his forced smile any longer. She knew he was hiding his emotions all for her sake and understood how unfair all of this was. She wanted raw emotions and not his controlled comfort.
"What?"
"Don't pretend to be alright," Ophelia whispered, her voice cracking by the second. "You're scaring me."
Killorn's face froze over. "I have no idea what you're talking about—"
"D-don't lie to me!" Ophelia demanded, turning around to peer up at her husband as her eyes grew inflamed with guilt. She frowned at the iciness of his features and how aloof he suddenly became.
"Don't speak nonsense," Killorn warned.
"You're pretending to be calm!" Ophelia pressed on, poking angrily at his firm chest. Her finger ached, feeling like she had pressed into stone. "I don't like this."
"Ophelia—"
"Don't pretend to be alright for my sake!" Ophelia shouted, feeling her emotions begin to bubble to the surface.
Shock danced on Killorn's face. His composure threatened to crumble by the second. He gritted his teeth, his jaws clenched. A vein popped on his neck as his eyes darkened. "Enough, Ophelia."
Ophelia's eyes flared with disapproval, grabbing him by the collar of her tunic, and straddling his hips. He stared at her in disbelief and shock, never seeing her so bold and unafraid.
"I know it kills you inside as well!" Ophelia cried out, unable to deal with his aloof nature about the matter anymore. "But I have to be strong, don't I?!" Killorn snarled, grabbing ahold of her waist and yanking her closer as she let out a soft gasp, her lips trembling. He lowered his voice instantly, resting against her forehead. "As the head of the house, I must burden the responsibility of being rational for your sake, I—"
Ophelia kissed him. He responded instantly, the moment tender and slow with hesitation, a fusion of grief and desperation. Salty tears slid down her cheeks as he gently cupped her face, bringing her closer. His lips were warm and smooth, capturing hers immediately, an intimate exchange that transcended barriers of spoken words.
Ophelia pulled back, burying her face in the crook of his neck. She could feel his veins pulsate and rush, his heady scent the strongest upon his tanned skin. He exhaled slowly, pressing his mouth against her hair, his fingers desperately clutching the strands of light gold. His stoic facade began to crumble by the second, revealing a maid laid bare from grief.
For a split moment, the quiet of unspoken words hung heavily in the air, a reminder of the memories they could've had. Of what they had inevitably lost.
"I've mourned over the what-ifs. What if our child was a girl who looked just like you? What if that baby was a boy who I'd teach to fight with all his might?" Killorn's tone was low and controlled, despite the tremor of his last word. "And then I thought to myself how selfish of me to wish for anything, but your recovery."
Ophelia swallowed, his arms coming around her tightly. She was waiting for this conversation the entire time he kept his distance and comforted her through a false smile.
"I'd remind myself we were still young," Killorn coaxed, stroking her soft strands of hair. He wondered what their child would've looked like. "We have the rest of eternity to try for another. This pain will linger, but we can't let it consume us. Moving on doesn't mean forgetting."
"You've already grieved in silence," Ophelia realized with a slight frown. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"You're my only priority," Killorn stated. "We grieve differently and I would never want to see you see my first stages of violent denial."
Ophelia swallowed, already remembering the sound of smashed furniture in the middle of the night and the rushed servants in the morning to replace the damages. She wanted to talk to him through it all, but knew he needed his moments.
"We allow ourselves to grief," Killorn continued, "So we can open our hearts to the possibility of healing."
Ophelia grew timid. "Do you think… we'd ever move on from this moment?"
"The journey to recovery is always hard. It is not a smooth sailing process. There will be moments we jump from acceptance to regret to agony and then back to reluctant acceptance, until eventually, we've learned to move past it all." Killorn buried his face into her tiny shoulder, embracing her with all of his might. "But I believe we'll one day recover and when that day comes, I will always be by your side, Ophelia."
Ophelia's breath hitched.
"I love you with all of my heart," Killorn vowed. "All will be well, I promise you, my sweet wife."
This content is taken from fr(e)ewebn(o)vel.𝓬𝓸𝓶