Wow, you really don't have to do this.
What do you mean 'a dance'?
To be honest, this is a foul.
Nothing happened in the salon, and I'm not sure if it was nonsense he spoke.
"I'm going to keep meeting you until you tell me that you're tired of just sleeping."
What a strange thing to say while putting on a necklace.
But, a dance in this situation...
A man without any mercy.
I turn my head away, suppressing my temper that has come out of nowhere. Mainly due to the irritation that has been slowly filling up within me this whole time.
I move mechanically, as if I'm hoping that this song will end as soon as possible.
"Your eyes on me are not very nice, Wife."
He glances at me with a smirk, as if he's enjoying this situation because it's funny for him.
"There's nothing to be unhappy about."
Locking eyes, I reply with a forced smile.
Even with my lifeless eyes—
"Is that so?"
Rather, he raises one corner of his mouth and smiles, hugging me closer to him by putting pressure on my back using his hand that's placed there.
My eyebrows narrow from his obvious intention of pulling my body as close as possible to the point where it becomes difficult to breathe.
"But, Your Grace—"
"......"
"Does this dance require us to be this close?"
"It's the only way I know."
"You're hugging me so tight that I can barely breathe."
"Mmm."
Oh, I see.
"Why? Is there a problem?"
"No, there's no problem, except that it feels like my ribs are a little squished, and it's a little hard to breathe – Everything is fine except for a little bit of discomfort in my back. So please, please let me go."
It's a sarcastic comment with a lot of meaning.
However—
"I see."
Yet he remains unnerved even though he understands and doesn't loosen his hold.
Rather –
"Breathe."
Looking down at me, he gives a witty smile as he's leading me.
I can hear the cries of the young girls around me.
"Ha—"
You're trying to use me to reform your image.
Other than that, I can't understand what he was doing from the salon today to this moment.
Bad guy.
A Medusa-like man that attracts people.
Let's stare at him as if to show off the pointed feelings of our heart.
"You seem to be a good dancer."
Contrary to my hardened expression, he looks down at me with an unfazed expression.
"Did you learn it?"
"Yes, before our marriage."
As part of a package.
If you attend a banquet as a duchess and can't dance properly, it's a disgrace to the Farhan name.
Abella literally learned how to dance in the span of a week.
The result of that is right now.
Then—
"I see."
As soon as he says that, I step on his foot.
"Sorry."
Though I can dance, I make mistakes when I'm nervous and frigid.
Right away—
"I'm sorry."
Like now.
This is a bit strange, but usually if I make a mistake, I would have come to my senses and never stepped on him again...
"I'm sorry."
Mistakes, once made, continue.
I glance up at him, thinking that at this rate, I may just step on him until the song is over.
"Stop. Do not be sorry. Don't apologize afterwards either."
"......"
Saying that it's okay is very sweet.
Looking into Charles' eyes, who's trying to reassure me-
Oh my.
I step on him again
"Sorry—I must have chosen the wrong shoes."
"......"
Though I used to dislike him, and even now, calling him a bad guy and Medusa, I'm sorry for my one-sided abuse of his feet.
"Your Grace."
"I'll try to avoid it."
He smiles and pats my back lightly as if he's okay with it.
"......"
I—
What the hell is this?
For a moment, his kindness causes goosebumps to spread all over my body.
You're not this kind of person.
No matter how much he declared war on what he's going to do from today on, wouldn't he die if he suddenly changes like this?
"Your Grace."
I stare blankly at him.
"You remember that I clearly said no yesterday, right?"
"I remember."
"I have no intention of getting any closer to you than this."
"Yes."
"So, didn't I tell you that we should do as per the contract we've signed?"
"Because this is nothing."
So, you do remember.
"Yes."
While he remembers everything, I still eye him suspiciously, wondering why he's acting like a person with amnesia.
"So why are you doing this?"
It doesn't seem like a simple act just to prevent divorce.
I'm sick of thinking about what he's saying or doing.
Nothing's comparable to looking at him and feeling my heart beating out of my chest.
His heart touching my chest is beating as fast and strong as mine.
To the point where everything is very clear.
To be honest, that's what I'm afraid of.
I'm afraid that he's sincere, and I'll believe him.
"Your Grace."
When I look up to say no, to not do this again, he lowers his head slightly and presses his lips close to my ear.
Being close enough to touch, as soon as his breath reaches my ear,
"The music's over."
He stops in his spot, releases his firm hand from my back that has made me feel trapped, and slowly steps back to widen our distance.
The feeling of an unknown emptiness washes over me from the warmth that has disappeared—
"Abella."
Holding on to my hand that he still hasn't let go of, he stares at me with a lot of affection.
"......"
Even after the music has ended, our attention is focused on each other, breathing hard.
"Ella?"
The moment I open my mouth to call him,
"Ella?"
A familiar call is heard again, interrupting us.
I turn my head involuntarily at the familiar name. The voice sounds so faint that I wouldn't have heard it if it wasn't for the silence.
"Ella?"
The woman, who repeatedly called me 'Ella,' stares at me as she breathes out gasps of air or maybe it is a thin cry.
On one side of the garden, I see a blonde woman dressed in a simple gown, who calls me Ella—
"......"
I bite my lips.
"Ella, my sweetheart."
"......"
"It's mom."
The woman who utters such words collapses on the spot, covering her face with her hands.
"Oh my goodness."
After creating a space between that woman and me, the crowd begins to roar.
"Did she say mom?"
"Is that Baroness Farhan?"
"Oh, no. The baroness I met in the capital is not like that."
"Right, the baroness is a little plumper, and above all, look at that hair color."
"Oh my gosh, then—"
"Maybe... she's an illegitimate child?"
The eyes of the ladies who fixate on the woman's hair, who's sitting on the floor, and now, everyone at the party turns to me.
Then—
"Oh my gosh, how shameless."
They brand me, Abella, as an illegitimate child.
I don't care if that woman is my birth mother or if I can even believe that, I just—
A woman who looks just like the duchess suddenly appears at the duke's party.
The words that came out of her mouth are, "Ella, it's mommy."
Everyone has already labeled me an illegitimate child.
This isn't an accident.
Are you really an illegitimate child?
"......"
In the midst of this, it's lucky that it's actually me here and not Abella.
Foolish Abella would have been hurt and fainted.
Just look at my body trembling regardless of my will.
Calm down, Abella.
You idiot.
"Ha—"
What should I do in this situation?
Frankly, the way that this secret has been revealed is so tacky.
Will a divorce be easier now?
There is nothing worse than this for an aristocrat.
I had such crazy thoughts.
If I get kicked out like this, then I, Abella—I won't even be treated like a human being.
Well, first—
Whether that woman is really Abella's biological mother or not, the rumors about today's events will spread moderately far—
"Your Grace." (Abella says this)
The moment I rack my head to try and fix this, I see Catherine hiding in a bush, behind my mother.
Catherine is crouching as much as she can while wearing her favorite hankerchief—
"......"
I see Evangeline's figure.
Wherever her face is, since she's staying as far away as possible, even pretending to be a flower on a wall.
I'm not surprised.
I can't find a sad expression on her face.
If this is by Evangeline's hand, she would use this situation to point her finger at me and showcase what a disgrace I am to the family—
It's quiet.
I squint my eyes at her, who has no other expression of accusation other than just glances at Catherine.
Ha, look at this.
This is going to be a good fight.
.
.
.
.
T/N: This is basically Abella...
I love her <3