I will be the perfect wife this time-Chapter 110: Shadows on the Lips

The air in the room thickened, saturated with the metallic tang of dried blood and the suffocating weight of truths that had been buried far too long.

Mathias pulled her into his embrace, his arms creating a silent, unyielding sanctuary for her. He could feel the frantic, fractured rhythm of her heart hammering against his chest—the pulse of a woman who spent every waking moment fleeing from the shadows of her own soul.

He knew then that this was no a vow of love, though it wore love’s skin. He still did not fully grasp why she clung to the task of protecting him with such savage, desperate ferocity, but he felt the jagged edges of her fear.

He leaned in, his warm breath a stark contrast to the deathly chill of her skin, and spoke with a low, devastating growl that seemed to vibrate through the very marrow of her bones.

"Olivia... I am here, and I will always be with you," he whispered, his voice a tether in the dark. "I will be your eyes if that is what you desire."

"But—" He tightened his grip just enough to anchor her to the present, to the reality of the floor beneath them and the heat between them.

"Before you speak with such cold, hollow certainty of the ’mercy’ you granted her—and before you swear to be my shield—perhaps you should start by confessing the deception you are strangling inside yourself."

She lurched, trying to recoil as if he had struck an open wound. A small, stifled sound of protest died in her throat, but he remained an immovable force, refusing to let her retreat back into the safety of her silence.

"Confess, Olivia," he pressed, his voice a jagged edge of truth.

"Confess that you are drowning in a regret so vast it has swallowed the sun. You speak of ’freeing’ her only to justify the hollow ache in your spirit, but your body knows the lie."

"You haven’t accepted her death; you’ve merely buried it beneath a mountain of logic. You are so haunted by the specter of what you did, so paralyzed by the weight of that ’peace’ you dealt with your own hands, that your very eyes have refused to look upon a world where she no longer breathes."

He turned her face toward him, his thumb grazing her cheek with a tenderness that felt like a mercy she didn’t believe she deserved. Even so, her gaze remained fixed and vacant, staring into a private abyss.

"You didn’t lose your sight because of a passing shock, Olivia. You went blind because you couldn’t bear the reflection of your own hands."

"You cannot endure a world where you must kill those you love just to protect them. So, just admit it. Ease your burden. Let me be your sanctuary; I will not judge you, even if you were to kill me. Just... stop being so cruel to yourself."

Olivia let out a breath she seemed to have been holding for years.

"I don’t know how to answer you," she whispered, her voice hauntingly thin. "I need time to even comprehend what you mean. It isn’t easy... it is never easy. I cannot even force myself to feel the regret or the grief for her. I truly do not know what to do."

Even Mathias, with all his iron resolve, found himself without an answer to such a hollow confession. A heavy, profound silence enveloped them as they remained locked in a long, desperate embrace—two broken souls clinging to one another in the wreckage of their lives.

Finally, he drew her face closer to his.

The silence in the room shifted, turning from a heavy, suffocating weight into something electric and fragile. Mathias hesitated for a heartbeat, his breath hitching as he looked at her—at the way the dim light caught the curve of her throat and the hollow stillness of her gaze.

Then, drawing upon a fractured sort of courage, he leaned in and pressed a deep, aching kiss against her lips.

Olivia didn’t recoil. She didn’t push him away with her usual sharp-edged defenses. Instead, she surrendered, her body going soft against his, allowing his heat to anchor her.

When he finally pulled back, his breath ragged, she didn’t let the distance last.

In the blindness of her world, she reached out, her thumb trembling as it traced the contour of his face until she found the damp heat of his lips. With a slow, deliberate grace, she leaned forward and reclaimed him, her kiss slow and hauntingly quiet.

It was a kiss that tasted of salt and shadows, a wordless plea for a peace that neither of them truly possessed.

As she pulled away just enough to breathe, she wound her arms around his neck, pulling him back into her private darkness.

"Kiss me again," she whispered, her voice a low, broken thread against his skin. "I want to forget. I want to drown out the chaos, the noise... the absolute weight of everything that is crushing me. Just for now, Mathias... just kiss me."

He didn’t need to be told twice. He gathered her into him, his hands tangling in her hair as he crushed his lips to hers once more, desperate to be the silence she so badly needed.

He pulled away from her slowly, his breath still coming in ragged, shallow hitches. The silence that followed was brief but profound, filled only by the fading echo of their shared desperation.

Mathias let his head fall forward, his forehead resting heavily against her shoulder as if he had finally run out of strength to hold himself up. Yet, despite his exhaustion, a new, feverish light sparked in his eyes.

"Olivia..." he murmured against the silk of her dress. "What would you say to going on a journey with me?"

She knit her brows in confusion, tilting her head slightly as she tried to catch the cadence of his voice. "A journey? To where?"

"Away from here," he answered, his fingers tightening around her hand with a sudden, grounding intensity.

"Yes... let us leave for an entire week. Far from this palace, far from the rot of court intrigue and the prying eyes of the Empire. We will find somewhere quiet—somewhere where the only noise is the wind through the trees."

"Perhaps there, in that stillness... you might find your way back to the light. Away from everything that reminds you of what was. Just you and I."

Olivia let out a long, weary sigh, her shoulders slumping as she finally surrendered to the pull of his words. She didn’t argue, nor did she mock his sudden, desperate optimism.

Instead, she spoke in a voice devoid of its usual sharp edges, carrying a hollow but undeniable acceptance.

"Whatever you wish... do as you please," she whispered. "As long as I don’t have to endure Leon’s biting sarcasm or face the hollow stares of the servants, I am with you."

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The Imperial carriage slowed to a rhythmic halt, its gilded wheels crunching against the gravel of the Tharron Duchy’s iron gates.

The Empress descended with practiced elegance, her heavy silks whispering against the stone. Behind her, a phalanx of Imperial guards moved to follow, but she halted them with a sharp, singular motion of her hand. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

"There is no need for your presence," she commanded, her voice like velvet draped over steel. "I shall handle everything from here."

The Captain of the Guard stepped forward, his brow furrowed in hesitation. "But Your Majesty, the Emperor’s orders were—"

Alicia turned, her eyes flashing with a predatory ferocity that silenced him instantly. "Do you truly dare to defy the commands of your Empress? Stay where you are."

She crossed the threshold of the Duchy, her sharp gaze dissecting every corner of the estate. The air here was different—heavy, stagnant, and smelling of ancient stone and unspoken dread.

She noted that the faces of the servants had changed entirely since her last visit; they moved like ghosts, hollow and terrified.

A thin, mocking smile curled her lips. "It seems Roland has been busy with some... housecleaning since I was last here," she murmured to herself.

Not a single servant dared to obstruct her path or offer guidance. They simply withered away into the shadows as she passed.

Stopping before the towering oak doors of the Duchess’s chambers, she struck three measured, authoritative blows. Silence was her only answer.

With a sigh of irritation, she pushed the heavy doors open and stepped into the opulent room. In the dim, filtered light of the hearth, she glimpsed the silhouette of Serene lying motionless upon the bed.

"Welcome, my dear," Alicia said, her tone dripping with saccharine sarcasm. "Your chambers grow more extravagant with every visit. It seems Roland treasures you quite dearly."

Still, no answer. The figure on the bed did not so much as stir.

The Empress’s eyes narrowed, her patience snapping. "To ignore your Empress is a lack of decorum that borders on treason, Duchess."

Silence reigned. Enraged by the defiance, She marched toward the bed.

"Feigning sleep will not save you from this conversation," she hissed, reaching out to seize the woman’s shoulder.

But the moment her fingers grazed the fabric of the gown, a violent, invisible force erupted from the bed.

A shockwave of raw, crackling energy struck Alicia like a thunderbolt, flinging her body backward through the air. She crashed into the floor with a dull thud, her breath driven from her lungs.

She groaned, pushing herself up with trembling hands, her heart hammering against her ribs. "What... what madness is this?"

"It is a protection spell."

The voice came from the shadows behind her—cold, resonant, and heavy with an ancient, terrifying authority.

Alicia lifted her gaze, her breath hitching as she met those predatory yellow eyes staring down at her from the darkness.

"It has been a long time since your last visit, Your Imperial Majesty," Roland said, stepping into the flickering light, his presence filling the room with a suffocating weight.

He tilted his head, a twisted, mocking smile playing on his lips. "Might I ask what business was so urgent that you felt the need to disturb my wife’s slumber so... crudely?"