Villainess is being pampered by her beast husbands-Chapter 238 --.

Kaya’s lips parted, a whisper forming in her head before she dared say it aloud.

A watch...

The picture he painted was vivid—too vivid. Bleached hair, heels, skirt, a dark shirt, and a wristwatch. Not old-world clothes. Not ancient fashion.

Modern. Her world’s fashion.

The realization struck Kaya hard. This wasn’t some long-lost traveler from centuries ago. Everything he described had been in trend just a few years ago. Four, maybe five at most.

Her mind raced.

But Veer’s brother sitting across from her was no boy. He was grown, already nearing his thirties.

If his mother had only arrived here five years ago... how could he exist?

The thought slammed into her, sharp and unrelenting.

It doesn’t make sense.

"My mother," he continued softly, "she spoke a strange language... one that neither Father nor anyone else in the tribe could understand. Father tried again and again to ask about her people, her home, her tribe... but she had no answers. And no matter what happened to her—childbirth, illness, even injury—she never once shifted into a beast form. So no one knew... no one ever knew what kind of beast she was."

Kaya’s heart skipped.

"She lived here only a short while before falling in love with Father. They married, and then—" he gestured around the room, his hand brushing over the dust-coated table, the designs scattered across it— "she built this house. Every design, every drawing you see here... it all came from her. These," his hand rested on the rolled hides, "these were what lit up her face. She was always sketching, planning, tinkering with beams, pillars, little things that no one else cared about."

Kaya followed his gaze, the weight of it pressing down on her. 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

"She taught people too," he said. "Small things. The shoes you wear... the shirt on your back... even the way your pants are stitched. She taught all of that to those around her."

Kaya’s breath caught in her throat.

"But..." his voice faltered for the first time. "She was never happy. She loved Father, yes... but there was something else. A loneliness that never left her eyes. She always stared at the sky, as if she were waiting—longing—for something none of us could give her."

His hands clenched in his lap, jaw tightening as he forced the next words out.

"Then Veer was born. He was everything to her. She never left his side. Even his crib... she built it with her own hands. She smiled more in those days. For a while... it almost felt like she belonged."

Kaya leaned forward, caught in his words.

"But one day..." his voice dropped, almost a whisper. "Father and I had gone out. Just for a moment. To soothe the snow that had piled outside. When we heard Veer crying... we ran back. He was alone. The crib was there. Veer was there. But Mother..." his throat tightened, "Mother was gone. As if she had vanished into the air. We searched—Father and I scoured every path, every shadow. But she left nothing. No footprints. No trace. Just gone. Just as suddenly as she had come."

His eyes flicked to the wooden box on the table.

"Even her clothes, the strange band she always wore on her wrist... all of it vanished with her. Except this." He touched the box gently. "Maybe she left it behind in her hurry. Or maybe... maybe she wanted us to find it."

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.

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When Kaya returned to Veer’s house, she lay quietly in her room. A single candle still flickered on the small table beside her bed. Its flame was soft, almost hesitant, but it pushed against the darkness that pressed from every corner of the room.

No one here ever lit a candle at night. Not one. Let alone leave it burning until morning. But Veer had argued with his father—fought him, even—insisting the flame remain. He knew Kaya hated the suffocating dark, the way the silence at night seemed to swallow her whole. He wanted her to have at least this: a light to guide her to the washroom, to comfort her when shadows crept too close.

Kaya’s chest tightened as she stared at the flame. She could feel how precious it was. Every drop of wax, every spark of fire in this world carried weight. Yet her eyes weren’t just on the candle—they were lost in the restless storm inside her.

Everything from earlier replayed in her mind—the hidden house, the drawings, the name. Gracia. Siddiqui.

Her gaze drifted to the wooden box Veer’s brother had given her, sitting quietly in the corner of the room. Slowly, Kaya sat up, lifting the candle in her hand, and carried it to the bed. She set the box down before her, its weight heavy against the sheets.

For a moment, she just stared. Then, gently, she opened it.

Her fingers brushed the smooth surface of the pen, lingering over the etched name: Siddiqui. Over and over, she traced the letters, as if they might whisper their secret to her. She knew this name. Somewhere—sometime—it had mattered.

Kaya placed the pen down carefully and reached for the diary. The leather cover was worn, but the golden letters still gleamed faintly in the candlelight.

When Kaya opened the first page, her eyes landed on a name written in flowing, elegant cursive:

Gracia Siddiqui — Chief Architect of Earthcon.

The handwriting itself felt alive, graceful strokes full of certainty and pride, yet carrying a warmth that made Kaya pause. Whoever had written this name, they had done it with care... almost with devotion.

She carefully turned the page, expecting words, perhaps a journal entry. But instead, what greeted her was a sketch.

It was the drawing of a man.

A man in a suit, seated on a chair, his gaze lowered onto a stack of documents he held. His posture was serious, composed—but the way the lines curved around him, the delicate attention to the details of his expression, it wasn’t just a drawing. It was admiration captured in ink.