Chapter 120

The party had been a success.

There had been a crisis in the middle, but thanks to Rabiana’s quick thinking, it ended without any problems.

For Rabiana, it meant a great deal that everything concluded without anyone leaving with a wounded heart.

A few days later—

“You two look much too stiff. Could you move a little closer?”

Rabiana was forcing an awkward smile as she sat in front of a famous painter.

Just as Alberto had improvised, the couple had hired an artist as soon as things settled down, and now it was time to have their portrait painted.

It was still only the sketching stage, but Rabiana already understood why so many couples ended up quarreling during the process.

“L-like this?”

Rabiana scooted a little closer to Alberto.

She thought they were already close enough, but the painter insisted they move even closer.

When her hesitant inching proved too slow, Alberto simply wrapped his arm firmly around her shoulders and drew her right up against him.

Gasp.

Rabiana held her breath.

She’d hugged Alberto countless times and had long since grown used to physical affection, but somehow, whenever their bodies were pressed tightly together, she still felt nervous.

“This much is necessary, wouldn’t you say?”

Alberto asked the painter politely, and the artist finally nodded in satisfaction.

Unbelievable.

Rabiana was the only one who found this situation hard to accept.

She was practically leaning against Alberto’s chest now—so close in front of a stranger! Her face flushed red.

“Madam Roen, please look straight ahead.”

Rabiana, who had been staring holes into Alberto, jumped in surprise at the painter’s request and looked forward.

Just then, a breeze brushed her ear.

Alberto had let out a small laugh.

The spot where his breath had touched tickled, and she reflexively rubbed her ear with her finger.

“Is your husband really so handsome you can’t look away?”

“It’s not that, it’s just… being this close is a little nerve-wracking.”

She could feel Alberto’s hand stiffen around her waist.

Was she being too honest? Embarrassed, Rabiana busied her hands with the sleeve of Lucian’s clothes in Alberto’s embrace.

“Actually, me too.”

Alberto turned his head and whispered in Rabiana’s ear, his voice so low only she could hear.

“My heart’s about to burst from earlier.”

“I’m not quite that bad.”

“That’s harsh. We’re about to become family—how can your heart be so calm?”

His mock-complaint, wanting her to feel the same, was both funny and endearing.

As the two kept whispering, the painter’s gaze grew noticeably sharp.

Alberto didn’t seem to care, but Rabiana immediately picked up on it and shut her mouth.

It was surprisingly hard to just sit still, perfectly posed, in silence.

Lucian, being a gentle baby, simply nodded off instead of crying, but as a grown woman, Rabiana couldn’t even do that.

‘My back hurts…’

She gradually realized her body was reaching its limit.

Her posture was falling apart, and she kept leaning into Alberto’s shoulder.

Trying to straighten up, she tensed her back, but that only made it ache more.

“Let’s take a break.”

Right then, Alberto suggested a rest.

The painter, looking exhausted as well, stretched and left the room.

As soon as it was just the three of them, Rabiana nearly collapsed against Alberto’s chest.

“I thought I was going to die…”

“How am I supposed to manage if my wife’s this weak?”

Alberto laid Lucian down on the sofa and poured tea from the pot on the table.

Then, he helped the drooping Rabiana sit up and brought the teacup to her lips.

Rabiana simply opened her mouth and drank, while Alberto adjusted the angle, just as he would when feeding Lucian a bottle.

The fragrant tea made her feel a little alive again.

She closed her eyes and savored the aroma, letting out a long sigh.

“Honestly, Alberto, I thought you’d get angry.”

Alberto, who’d been setting the cup down on its saucer, turned to her with a puzzled look.

“Why would I be angry?”

He sounded genuinely baffled, as if he had no idea what part was supposed to have made him mad.

Rabiana opened her eyes and let out a soft, throaty laugh.

“Well, all the other wives said their husbands got upset. They say couples argue the most while having portraits painted, so I was a little nervous.”

She knew Alberto’s temperament, but she was also well aware that people’s true nature came out when they were tired—like Lawrence, for example.

Not that this was anything like Lawrence, but she had thought it was possible for Alberto to get cranky if he was exhausted.

Maybe recalling that conversation, Alberto laughed.

“So you thought I was a man with so little patience?”

“It’s not that. I just thought you were a regular man.”

Like any other nobleman.

The implication didn’t seem to please him; he furrowed his brow.

“Rabiana, I get it—you want to badmouth me. I know I’ve acted similar to those ordinary men before. But let me make one thing clear: I’m different. I’m fundamentally different from them.”

“Oh? How so?”

His annoyed expression was so funny that Rabiana had to press her lips together to keep from laughing as she looked at him.

“When I love someone, I love them fiercely. More than myself.”

Rabiana burst out laughing at his words.

That much was certainly true.

Just before she’d been about to collapse, Alberto had been the one to suggest taking a break.

That couldn’t have been a coincidence.

Having spent so much time with him, Rabiana had gotten a better grasp of who Alberto really was.

He was incredibly observant and quick to notice even the smallest changes.

So it was no wonder he’d noticed her discomfort and suggested a break.

No, it was definitely because of that. After all, as soon as the painter left, Alberto had helped her to the sofa and given her tea.

And he hadn’t looked the least bit tired himself.

“That’s true. I know you love me.” Rabiana nodded in agreement.

“Rabiana, what about you?”

“Me?”

“Yeah. Are you just like all the other women?”

“What do you mean?”

“Just what I said. For example, women who don’t cover up their husband’s faults and talk about their marital problems with others—does that sound familiar?”

“…I don’t think I can say I’m any different. I haven’t done it yet, but someday, if you really drive me crazy… wouldn’t I end up like that too?”

Rabiana’s murmured honesty made Alberto laugh heartily.

He reached over and gently pinched her nose.

“Just tell me you love me. That’s what I wanted to hear.”

“Ah…”

“And you can badmouth me all you want. If that makes you feel better, that’s what matters most. What else could be more important?”

Rubbing her freed nose, Rabiana smiled.

He had a habit of saying things that melted people’s hearts.

Today was no exception. Rabiana didn’t bother to hide her growing smile.

There was nothing to hold back anymore.

“I love you too, Alberto. Not like other women—differently. I love you so, so much.”

Alberto grinned, his eyes crinkling into half-moons, his mouth wide and bright.

As if he couldn’t resist, he slipped his hand behind Rabiana’s neck and drew her in for a kiss.

Their lips curved together in a smile, laughter mingling between them.

Both thought the same thing at the exact same moment.

They’d made the best possible choice in marrying each other.

***

When the grand gates of the Roen ducal manor opened, a sprawling garden was revealed.

A gardener, shears in hand, trimmed the hedges of the carefully shaped grounds.

Beyond the long stretch of greenery, through the stately front doors, the drawing room came immediately into view.

In the center were carpets and sofas, and across from the sofas stood a fireplace.

Even in spring, the north was bitterly cold, so the fireplace was always burning, and the staff moved leisurely through the halls.

Spaces touched by human warmth and care were always lively.

Up the stairs and just ahead, a large painting hung on the front wall.

Set in a frame of solid gold, it was a portrait of the manor’s masters.

The man and woman facing forward wore radiant smiles, and the baby nestled between them—dozing—had a lovely face that resembled them both.

Bathed in the northern spring sunlight, the house was no longer desolate.

“Alberto, come here and help me!”

“I’m dying to know why my wife is calling for me.”

“Hurry! Lucian, Lucian just said ‘Mama!’”

The once too-quiet manor, now lively and even boisterous, brought smiles to the faces of the staff who cared for it alongside its two lords.

Roen Manor was always filled with laughter.

And all of that change was thanks to the duchess.

“Look! He really said ‘Mama!’”

“Lucian, how about ‘Papa?’”

Once timid and frail, a woman who’d once believed her own disappearance was the answer—but now, she was the one person Roen Manor could not do without.

“You think Lucian sees me as his mom?”

“Of course. How could he not? Does it make you that happy?”

“Yes, I love it. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Lucian, come on, say ‘Papa’ for me, too.”

“Wu-beh, wueh-beh…”

Rabiana beamed. It was the happiest smile of her life.

– fin.