Are We Still In love?

But is this really right?

Though she pretended to be fine, Cecilia did not enjoy the warmth of Eden’s touch. Because of that, she held his neck awkwardly, mind racing for an alternative.

But no other solution came to mind. It wasn’t as if a noblewoman could dismiss her husband and ride on the back of a coachman instead.

“Cecilia, hold on a little tighter around my neck.”

Eden’s sturdy legs carried them steadily toward the townhouse. The road was firm beneath him despite the earlier rain.

“You can put me down now. The ground is paved—there’s no more mud.”

Cecilia lightly tapped his shoulder and whispered, but Eden kept walking, as if he hadn’t heard.

“Your Grace.”

“I know I need to make an effort.”

Eden finally spoke, and Cecilia, wrapped in his jacket, blinked in confusion at the cryptic words.

“So you can have time to prepare yourself.”

He was referring to her earlier request—that they postpone consummating their marriage until she was ready.

“Is this… to ensure an Imperial heir?”

“……”

“Or is it because His Highness the Crown Prince told you to be faithful and kind to your wife?”

Cecilia’s voice was calm, but pointed. Eden paused, adjusted her on his back, and then replied.

“I just don’t want you to be sad or hurt.”

He said nothing more. As much as her suspicions had been true, so too was his desire not to see her suffer.

But that made it more cruel. To shake her heart with fleeting kindness and leave her to bear the sorrow alone. If she were still the naïve girl of her past life, she might have fallen for him again.

“You’re cruel.”

Cecilia murmured, resting her face lightly against the back of his neck. Eden’s body tensed at the warmth of her breath. In the dim light, it seemed his ears reddened slightly.

“…I am?”

“Sometimes excessive kindness is the cruelest thing of all.”

Sensing his reaction, Cecilia slowly traced her fingers across his shoulder. This time, Eden didn’t respond, and she quickly lost interest.

“Just kidding.”

They continued in silence. Only the wind, the soft patter of rain, the rustling leaves, and the faint clinking of her necklace against his back could be heard.

‘It’s late, Cecilia. Time for bed.’

‘But…’

‘I can’t sleep without you. Let’s just say that’s why.’

It was almost peaceful, like a memory. Never mind how fragile that peace truly was beneath the surface.

When the household staff saw their masters return in such a state, they were aghast. Eden was soaked through, the humidity clinging to him from the rain, and Cecilia was asleep, wrapped in Eden’s jacket.

“Good heavens. You’re both drenched!”

Eden raised a finger to his lips, signaling them to be quiet. He didn’t want to wake his sleeping wife.

“Her Grace is asleep. Dry her off and change her into nightclothes.”

“And Your Grace…?”

The steward furrowed his brow but caught himself before asking more. Instead, he turned to another servant.

“Prepare a bath immediately.”

Cecilia might have been unaware, asleep on Eden’s back, but Eden himself was a mess.

“I’ll stop by Her Grace’s chambers first.”

Eden didn’t deny that he needed a bath himself.

“We’ll handle the rest. Please rest well, Your Grace.”

Lady Monte and Evie gently laid the sleeping Cecilia onto a thick towel on the bed, speaking in hushed tones. Only when Eden saw them carefully undress her damp clothes and wipe her limbs with towels did he finally turn away.

“Send people to retrieve the carriage. One of the wheels sunk into the hillside—completely submerged in mud. Don’t hold back on manpower.”

The steward nodded.

“Your bath is almost ready, Your Grace.”

As Eden roughly dried his wet hair with a towel, a servant approached to inform him that the bath was prepared.

He soon moved to the bath, sinking his tired body into the warm water. Eyes closed, he let himself relax.

“…?”

Eden opened his eyes again, frowning slightly. Something seemed… off. There was a fragrant scent lingering in the air—not one the servants would have used, especially knowing his preferences.

“Ah.”

After a moment’s thought, Eden let out a small sound of realization. He understood now where the scent came from. It wasn’t from the bathwater the servants had prepared.

It was Cecilia’s scent—the one that had teased his senses the entire time he carried her on his back.

When had it clung to him?

Eden’s hand instinctively reached behind his neck and across his upper back, where her breath had brushed his skin. His damp fingers slid over the spot where Cecilia had rested, softly exhaling as she slept.

He felt… strange. There was no better word to describe the sensation that stirred inside him.

“Cecilia Rain.”

Resting his arm on the edge of the tub, Eden propped up his chin. In the quiet bathroom, with nothing but the soft dripping of water, he repeated his wife’s name, his expression unreadable.

He was recalling the moments he had carried her—the ticklish sensation along his nape, the way his ear flushed red for no reason.

“Like some pervert…”

Eden muttered to himself. Why was he dwelling so vividly on those details? He rubbed his face with his wet hands, then pushed back his hair with a tired sigh.

Perhaps he was just a man after all, susceptible to fatigue—and other things.

“Your Grace.”

Just as Eden stepped out of the bath, loosely robed, the steward appeared, holding a tray with a warm drink and a letter.

“The coachman found this in the carriage and asked that it be delivered.”

Eden glanced at the envelope as he took the cup. It was likely the letter Cecilia had received from the Empress.

“It’s for Her Grace. I’ll deliver it myself.”

“Yes, Your Grace. Rest well tonight.”

The steward bowed and withdrew. Eden turned the envelope over in his hand, inspecting it. It was plain, save for the seal of the Empress.

“Shall I open it now?”

Cecilia’s words echoed in his mind, spoken with the knowing air of someone certain he wouldn’t allow it. As if she could read him with ease. He didn’t like it.

A thought crossed his mind: Should he open the letter first before giving it to her? He wondered what expression she’d make if he asked, “Didn’t you say it was fine for me to read it?”

A childish, petty thought.

“Ridiculous.”

Clicking his tongue, Eden crossed into the Grand Duchess’s chambers. Past a small sitting room, Cecilia lay asleep, her form faintly visible beneath the sheer canopy surrounding the bed.

“……”

Thanks to her maids’ attentive care, the room was so still that he could hear the soft rhythm of her breathing.

He placed the letter on the bedside table, then sat at the edge of the bed. Even as the mattress dipped, Cecilia didn’t stir. Eden took a sip of his drink, eyes fixed on her peaceful face.

She looked exactly as he remembered—beautiful, unchanged. And yet, something weighed on his mind.

Cecilia was different now.

‘I wanted to find a book about Laner Island but didn’t have time.’

The way she guided the conversation naturally, using the gift as a segue, was something he had seen before. But the subject matter had been unusual.

Laner Island—forgotten by all, even the court.

She had never shown any interest in politics or such matters before. It was strange.

“Is that why?”

Before their marriage, he’d thought he knew her well. Yet now, she felt like a stranger.

At their wedding, she had looked at him with unfamiliar eyes. On their first night, she had spoken with an honesty he didn’t expect. And today, she had casually discussed politics.

Perhaps that’s why she now felt so unfamiliar, why his attention kept returning to her.

And why his own thoughts had begun to shift.

“Who knows…”

Eden downed the rest of his drink and placed the empty glass atop the letter. The loud clink caused Cecilia to stir slightly, murmuring in her sleep—but she didn’t wake.

He noticed the space left by her shift in position.

Like a guest intruding silently, Eden slipped into bed beside her, unable to resist. He turned, facing her as she slept.

“Mmm…”

Cecilia shifted again, uncomfortable, and her head rolled onto his palm.

“…!”

Eden stiffened, startled, then stared in stunned silence at her face, now nestled against his hand. She rubbed against it absently, as if seeking comfort, before turning her back to him.

Eden quietly stared at her delicate nape resting in his palm. It felt like he could pull her gently into his arms with just a little pressure.

But he couldn’t.

He didn’t have the courage to draw her close—not when her scent lingered so intoxicatingly, teasing at his senses.