Chapter 172: The Third Heartbeat
Leroy’s head jerked to the side, his expression momentarily stunned, his eyes wide and searching, as if trying to understand why.
Lorraine’s chest heaved, her eyes ablaze with heartbreak and defiance. She didn’t regret the slap.
She needed him back.
This state of his... his fractured silence, of stoic despair, was unsustainable, especially now, with dark clouds looming over them and enemies actively scheming their downfall. Whatever unspoken torment he was clutching... she wanted it spoken. Just as she broke her silence with him, he, too, should speak his mind about his pain. At least, to her.
The slap might be the push he needed. Wouldn’t it be humiliating for a man like him to be slapped by his wife, a woman?
Speak, Leroy!
"I’ll protect you," Leroy said, standing abruptly. He didn’t touch his cheek where the slap had landed. Maybe it hadn’t been hard enough, or maybe he didn’t care. But his eyes had cleared further, sharper, more focused.
He was looking at her.
Truly looking at her.
His lips trembled; his chest rose and fell with the weight of suppressed emotion. But he met her gaze, and in that moment, he was her husband.
"I’ll do anything to protect you," he said.
Lorraine’s voice was bitter, laced with incredulity. "Do you hear yourself, Leroy? Do you think for a single moment the Dowager would keep her word?"
"I’ll try nonetheless," he answered, his tone quiet but resolute. "I’ll try everything on my own... to shield you, from those around us, and those from the past."
She should have felt a flush of joy, a tender rush of hope that her husband’s words were real, heartfelt. His declaration of love.
But no.
All she felt was anger.
"For that, you’re going to hand over Aralyn?" she asked, her voice sharp as steel.
"Anything," he said.
Her hand lifted instinctively, aiming for another slap. But instead, she clenched her fingers, her nails biting into her palm, and punched his arm. Her mental acuity was too frail to strike him again, but the blow was deliberate. A muted explosion of frustration.
"You’re telling me you care for Elyse’s sons and the crown prince because they are innocent, but not for someone who cared for me?" she demanded, her voice trembling with accusation. "Someone I owe? Someone who had endured isolation and torture for years just because she knows something?"
"I don’t care for anyone but you," Leroy said, his tone cold, almost detached.
Her eyes widened, struck by the absolute wrongness of his words. "Do you even hear yourself?" she said, voice rising. "That’s something I would say. Not you!"
Her husband, the one who had always been righteous, a bastion of honor and patience, should not speak like that.
She, the schemer, the vengeful daughter of broken legacies, had long accepted manipulation as her currency.
But Leroy... he was meant to be different. He was not at her level. He was someone above. Someone she looked up to. He should not lower himself to her level—to the level of a tunnel-dweller, even for her. He was of Royal blood; someone who would sit on the throne and reign. Such words should not come out of his mouth. Such thoughts shouldn’t even cross his mind.
His chest heaved again, as if to deny what she said, but his silence spoke louder. Lorraine’s eyes softened for the briefest moment. Beneath his fractured certainty was a man drowning in guilt.
Her hand trembled, hovering by her side, as though unsure whether to strike or soothe.
She let her hand fall, unconsciously retreating from the violence between them, even as the storm of emotions raged on.
"You see it, don’t you?" Leroy’s voice broke the silence as he showed her the piece of parchment, the one she didn’t remember writing, yet somehow carried her writing in every line.
"I’m going to protect you from her," he continued, his voice fragile, trembling as though speaking it aloud would make it vanish.
"We’re going to have peace. Not here... somewhere else. Just you and me... together, happy."
His eyes glistened as he described that distant place, a dream only he could see, a world untouched by scheming, by threats, by the weight of crowns and curses... and prophesies of dragons and oracles.
His words hung in the air, raw and earnest.
Lorraine’s eyes welled up, her throat tight and trembling as the overwhelming beauty of his hope struck her deeper than any dagger.
That... was everything she longed for.
A life free of plots. Free of fear. A life where no one else dictated their fate. A life, just them... A man and a woman. Nothing more, nothing less, and everything they needed at the same time.
Just peace. Love. Happiness.
Does such a place exist?
Could it exist?
If she let him take charge, would they ever reach it? Her heart swelled with anticipation and longing.
"Oh, Leroy..." Her voice broke, soft and aching, as tears slipped from her eyes, tracing silent paths down her cheeks. "Do you love me that much?"
She wanted to believe he would defy fate itself for her. That he would resist every force, every expectation, just to build that dream with her. How had she, a woman once resigned to manipulation and patience, made him fall so deeply, so utterly?
She wanted, more than anything, to live in that fragile fantasy. A place of light, far removed from the shadows that cloaked their lives. Where they could be nothing but themselves, without fear or pretense.
But no. Not now.
Reality gnawed at the edges of her hope.
And fate... fate was still watching.
Her smile trembled as she whispered, barely audible, "But not now, Leroy. As much as I want to live in that fantasy, I~"
"I am not losing you, Lorraine. You are mine. Mine alone," Leroy interrupted, his voice low, unwavering, as if speaking it would anchor their fractured world.
Her eyes welled with tears, the most precious thing she had ever longed for now within reach. "Yours I shall be, for all eternity, but~"
"I will do anything to keep you from the reach of that~"
"I am with child, Leroy," Lorraine interjected, her voice steady despite the rush of emotion.
It was not how she had planned to reveal it, not with the air thick with despair and promises of escape, but it was the only moment that made sense.
They were no longer just two.
There was now a third heartbeat between them.
Leroy’s eyes widened, a mix of disbelief, wonder, and unguarded joy flooding his expression as if the world itself had shifted around them.
For a heartbeat, silence reigned. Shock, disbelief, happiness... a delicate, trembling balance that neither of them dared speak aloud.
Then, breaking the fragile stillness, a soft knock sounded at the door.