After Isabella’s birthday party, Kallius had been extraordinarily busy — and so Delia could understand, to a degree, that he had not been able to mark her birthday. But understanding it and not being hurt by it were two different things entirely, and so she rose from the sofa with a desolate expression and made her way toward the dressing room.

“My lady, where are you going all of a sudden?”

“I thought I would take a brief look around the estate. I will be back shortly — don’t worry.”

If she stayed alone in her room any longer, she felt she might come undone. With Sara’s help, Delia changed into a deep teal dress and made her way to the carriage waiting on the first floor.

She thought of Kallius — whether he was in his study or not, she had no way of knowing — and pressed her lips together. Then she murmured a quiet farewell to no one in particular and hurried into the carriage.

Her mother-in-law. Her brother. And now Kallius. The people closest to her paid her even less regard than those far away — and the thought of it made something in her chest go utterly blank.

‘Am I someone who is not meant to be cherished?’

Since Kallius had lost his memories, the feeling that she was not even treated as a proper person had crept back in — and suddenly her eyes burned. Delia hurriedly rummaged through her pocket and wiped the tears away before they could fall.

Ever since the pregnancy, her emotions had been swinging wildly beyond her control. She leaned her head against the window and let herself sink with the feeling of falling, endlessly, downward.

How much time had passed? The coachman’s voice announcing their arrival drew her eyes open, and Delia stepped out of the carriage in a hurry.

The weather, which had been perfectly fine when she set out, had turned overcast in an instant — as though rain were about to fall. The thought that even the sky had now abandoned her made Delia’s spirits sink further, and she turned away with listless steps.

If it rained, the carriage would be difficult to manage — and so however reluctant she was, she had to return to the manor. She was suppressing the bitterness in her chest and climbing back into the carriage when a familiar voice reached her from nearby.

“Delia? What are you doing here?”

“……!”

The moment she heard it, Delia spun around.

His dark hair, untouched by any other color, swept fully back. A grey waistcoat over a white shirt. Kallius looked, in that moment, like the image every person carries somewhere in their heart of who they would most want to find.

Delia hurried down from the carriage and moved toward him, her face bright with a joy she could not contain.

“My love — you weren’t at the manor?”

“I was, until the early hours. Then something urgent came up and I came down to the estate.”

“Ah……so that was it.”

She had thought he had simply forgotten her — but the possibility that he had been too busy since before dawn to come to her made her heart stir unexpectedly.

As though welcoming the two of them, the sky cleared before long — and Delia smiled, bright and open, looking up at it.

She tugged lightly at Kallius’s shirt collar and asked with careful hesitation:

“If it’s all right — would you stay with me for a while?”

“……Stay with you?”

At her words, Kallius’s expression stiffened as though he had heard something strange. He looked down at her, tense and waiting, then let out a breath. A moment later he took a step forward ahead of her, turning his head just slightly.

“What are you standing there for? Are you not coming?”

“……!”

She had been certain he would brush her off — and yet here he was, asking why she was not following. A wide, radiant smile broke across Delia’s face. Forgetting entirely that she was a duchess, she broke into a run toward where he stood.

“By the way — have you had a proper meal?”

“Pardon? A meal, you mean?”

……Come to think of it, she had spent the entire day since before dawn waiting for Kallius — and had not managed to eat a single thing properly.

Delia was about to lie and say she had eaten a hearty breakfast, but the moment she opened her mouth, her stomach let out a long, mortifying growl that spoke for itself.

Caught entirely off guard, Delia’s face went red and she dropped her head. Kallius raised an eyebrow in mild disbelief and stepped closer.

“There is no need to be embarrassed. It is only natural to have a strong appetite when you are carrying a child.”

……He likely did not know. That the morning sickness had been so severe that, aside from peaches, there was practically nothing she could keep down.

But she had no wish to shatter this moment — and so Delia clutched her stomach as though she were truly famished and nodded enthusiastically.

The moment she took Kallius’s hand and stepped into the restaurant, the other diners caught sight of the two of them and recognized their standing. They set down their utensils and bowed their heads in respectful silence. Before long a cook emerged from the kitchen, offering a menu with trembling hands.

Turning to the main courses first, the very first item on the page was bœuf bourguignon — a beef stew made with wine. Beef and an assortment of vegetables, braised low and slow in wine for hours. It looked impossibly tender.

Kallius must have noticed her eyes lingering on the description, because he turned to the cook beside him and asked for bœuf bourguignon as the main course.

“And? What else would you like?”

“Oh, well……”

At Kallius’s question, Delia quickly turned the page.

This time, a photograph of gratin caught her eye — bubbling cheese and bread baked together in the oven. This restaurant seemed to make theirs with roasted potatoes blended into a rich, smooth cream, and the savory aroma drifting through the air was enough to make her stomach stir.

Kallius caught the way her eyes lit up in an instant and added a gratin to the order without a word. He then ordered a pasta with clams and mixed seafood, and finally, a freshly squeezed grapefruit juice made from whole fruit.

They waited for their food, and before long the dishes began appearing on the table one by one, accompanied by an apology for the wait.

In the photograph it had looked like a modest portion — but in person, the serving was generous enough to be mistaken for a double. Delia could not quite conceal her dismay.

“Please enjoy your meal.”

“……Thank you.”

Delia picked up the fork and knife laid out on the table.

She brought a careful bite of the bœuf bourguignon to her lips, bracing herself for the nausea that might follow. Then her eyes went wide with something close to disbelief.

Goodness — she had been certain she would bring it all back up. But there was no nausea at all. Only the beef, melting softly against her tongue. Delia quickly looked around at the other dishes.

She carefully spooned some of the gratin — heaped with bubbling cheese — onto her plate. Then she blew on it gently, huff by huff, so as not to scald the roof of her mouth, and brought it to her lips.

She chewed in silence for a long moment, not saying a word, then swallowed. She set her utensils down and looked at the table with an expression of pure disbelief.

She went on to enjoy the pasta with clams and seafood and the freshly squeezed grapefruit juice with the same quiet enthusiasm — and only came back to herself when the plates were more than half empty. She hastily dabbed at the corners of her mouth and stole a glance at Kallius.

“Is the food not to your taste?”

Unlike her own plate, which was thoroughly sauced and scattered, Kallius’s remained exactly as it had been when it arrived — untouched.

Had Kallius not eaten a single bite, while she had been attacking the food like someone half-starved? Delia sat there, rigid with mortification, until Kallius shook his head and told her he had already eaten just before coming.

She wiped her lips with the napkin and set her utensils down on the table. Kallius’s expression said plainly that she could have kept eating — why leave food on the plate for no reason.

She could hardly go on eating with obvious delight when Kallius himself had not touched a thing, and so Delia put on a somewhat exaggerated performance of being too full to continue. Kallius said that if that were the case she should have said so sooner — what was the point in forcing it down — and rose from his seat.

Delia scrambled to her feet and followed after him. He pressed the correct payment into the cook’s pocket despite the man’s reluctance to accept it, then made his way out briskly.

Stepping out of the restaurant, Delia walked alongside Kallius at a leisurely pace down a street lined with salons, letting the meal settle.

She would have liked nothing more than to take his arm — but the likelihood of Kallius welcoming that kind of contact outside of any formal occasion was vanishingly small. And so Delia looked down at her empty hand and let a quiet, wistful expression settle over her face.

Just then, Kallius — who had been walking slightly ahead — came to an abrupt stop. Delia stepped up beside him with a puzzled look and followed his gaze to see what had caught his attention.

“……This is……”