Chapter 232: A Life They Lost
Catherine sat on the bed with her knees drawn to her chest while Maximilian got the glass of water she had handed him after finishing it.
After setting it aside on the nightstand, he returned to sit beside her, and the room gradually settled into a comfortable silence. It wasn’t the awkward kind that demanded to be filled. Rather, it was the silence of two people who trusted each other enough to think, to breathe, and to simply exist together without forcing words into every empty space.
"The interruptions might be a factor," Catherine finally said with a sigh.
She had spent the last several minutes examining her own thoughts while wrapped in Maximilian’s embrace. Now that the initial embarrassment had faded, she found herself looking at the situation more honestly.
Every time they seemed to reach a deeper level of intimacy, something frightening happened. There had been threats, attacks, investigations, kidnappings, and constant uncertainty. Even today, Dorian had managed to isolate her and remind her how vulnerable happiness could be.
Maximilian nodded thoughtfully as he draped a blanket over her shoulders. "That would make sense."
Catherine leaned into the warmth, pulling the blanket closer around herself. Yet the comfort she felt had very little to do with the fabric.
It came from him.
It came from the way he was looking at her now, patient and attentive, without judgment or frustration. There was something profoundly reassuring about being examined so carefully and finding nothing but kindness in the other person’s eyes.
Resting her cheek against her knees, she studied his face for a long moment. A smile appeared before she even realized it.
"I can’t believe I never got to have this in my last life."
The words slipped out naturally, born from the quiet tenderness of the moment. She reached for his hand as she spoke, seeking his warmth without even thinking about it. Only when she felt the slight tremor in his fingers did she realize what she had said. The smile immediately faded.
Guilt tightened inside her chest.
"I’m sorry."
Maximilian’s gaze softened. Instead of retreating from the subject, he moved closer until their shoulders touched.
"No. Continue."
The simple response surprised her. Catherine hesitated for a moment before allowing herself to lean against him. His arm immediately settled around her shoulders as though it belonged there. Perhaps it did.
For a while, they simply remained that way, sharing the weight of a future that had once been taken from them.
"What do you think our lives would have been like?" Maximilian eventually asked. "If we had married as planned?"
A laugh escaped Catherine before she could stop it.
"Oh, we would have been terrible."
The image appeared in her mind instantly. She could practically see it unfolding before her eyes.
"Our pride alone would have been a disaster. We never would have confessed our feelings."
Maximilian chuckled. "That’s true."
"We probably would have spent years arguing in front of the entire court."
"Years?" he asked. "You’re being optimistic."
Catherine laughed harder.
"Fine. Decades."
The sound of his laughter joined hers, and for a little while, the heaviness of the day seemed far away.
"But we wouldn’t have let anyone bully us," Catherine said after the amusement faded. Her voice softened as she imagined that impossible future. "You would have spent every council meeting acting as though my ideas were ridiculous."
"They probably wouldn’t have been."
She raised her brows.
"And then you would have implemented them anyway," she continued.
Maximilian smiled but didn’t deny it.
"And I would have pretended your opinion didn’t matter, but secretly I would have waited for your approval before making any important decision."
His arm tightened slightly around her shoulders.
"You always had it."
The sincerity of the statement made her chest ache.
Catherine lowered her gaze, suddenly overwhelmed by the realization that perhaps that had always been true. Perhaps in every lifetime, in every version of themselves, Maximilian had been someone whose approval mattered more than she wanted to admit.
For a while, they simply sat together, enjoying the warmth of each other’s presence. Then Maximilian spoke again, his voice quieter than before.
"We would have shared everything," Maximilian said quietly as his hand moved through her hair. "Every morning council, every banquet, every crisis brought to the throne. We would have gone to sleep together each night and woken beside each other every morning. And eventually..." A small smile touched his lips. "We probably would have had a palace full of children."
Catherine smiled at the image that formed in her mind.
She imagined a younger Maximilian seated in the council chamber, attempting to discuss matters of state while a prince no older than five insisted on climbing into his lap. She imagined princesses racing through corridors while exasperated governesses struggled to maintain order. She imagined court officials pretending not to notice as their heirs turned royal audiences into chaos.
Most of all, she imagined Maximilian trying—and failing—to maintain the stern dignity expected of a king whenever their children were involved.
A soft laugh escaped her.
"Yes," she said, resting her cheek more comfortably against his chest. "I can see that too."
In truth, she could see far more than that. She could see herself standing beside him during ceremonies, sitting beside him during state banquets, and walking beside him through palace gardens long after the court had retired for the evening.
She could see arguments behind closed doors over policy, over strategy, over things neither of them would ever admit mattered because their pride would never allow it. She could also see the quiet reconciliations that followed, the unspoken understanding that had always existed between them, and the certainty that no matter how fiercely they disagreed, they would face the kingdom together.
It was a future that had never come to pass, a life stolen before either of them had the chance to live it. Yet as Catherine rested in his arms, she found that the grief no longer felt as sharp as it once had. For the first time, she was no longer mourning what they had lost.
She was grateful for what they had found.
Grateful for the second chance fate had somehow placed in their hands.
Grateful that after all the hatred, bloodshed, mistakes, and lifetimes between them, she was finally here, resting in his arms.
Yet as she lay against his chest, another thought surfaced. It had been buried so deeply for so long that she had almost convinced herself it no longer mattered.
Almost.
Her fingers slowly curled around his waist.
Maximilian’s hand, which had been moving soothingly along her back, stilled.
"Catherine?"
She drew a slow breath.
For a moment, she wasn’t looking at the room around them. She wasn’t looking at the soft light of the bedside lamp or feeling the warmth of the blanket wrapped around her shoulders.
She was somewhere else.
Somewhere long ago.
"All my life, as Crown Princess, I was taught to guard my virtue carefully," she said quietly. "It wasn’t something I was supposed to give away lightly. Not even to my fiancé."
A faint smile touched her lips, though there was sadness in it.
"We always had chaperones. There was always someone watching. Every meeting was supervised. Every interaction was measured. The entire kingdom seemed determined to ensure we never spent a moment alone together."
Maximilian remained silent.
Catherine lowered her gaze.
"The funny thing is..." A soft laugh escaped her. "I wanted to."
Her fingers tightened slightly against his chest.
"I wanted to give myself to you."
The confession felt strangely vulnerable even now. Because it had never happened.
"We were proud and stubborn and constantly arguing, but... I loved you." She smiled faintly. "I wanted it to be you."
The room fell quiet.
Maximilian felt something tighten painfully inside his chest.
He could hear the hurt in her voice. The memory she had spent years pretending no longer affected her.
"And then..." Her voice trembled, just enough for him to notice. "I had to walk into that tent."
The words were barely above a whisper.
"I had to walk into that tent and offer myself to a man who was threatening my kingdom."
The air seemed to leave the room.
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