Wicked Husband-Chapter 108 - 107

As the diary moved closer to the present, the tone grew more somber. The deep melancholy reached its peak during Cesare’s campaign in Kalpen.

Eileen struggled not to resent the person who had left her so abruptly and without explanation. She could only suffer, feeling abandoned due to her own perceived inadequacies.

Cesare stared at the diary, the pages marked with clear traces of tears. He repeatedly read a single line written in the diary:

The delicate, shaky handwriting in the diary conveyed the depth of Eileen’s emotions. It was the conclusion she had reached after being left alone in Cesare’s absence, repeatedly reflecting on her situation.

After a long, heavy silence, Cesare wiped his face with his hand. Despite it being midday, everything before him seemed cloaked in darkness. He felt a dizzying tinnitus and a dull ache in his chest that caused him to laugh hollowly.

The pain he experienced now was more intense than anything he had felt during the brutal days and nights on the battlefield when he could barely eat or drink.

If only he had not gone to the battlefield.

If only he had opened the door that day.

If only he had responded to the letter from the battlefield.

These futile suppositions plagued his mind. Although he knew well that he could not turn back time, he was consumed by regrets as if they were inevitable.

Cesare clearly remembered the day before the Kalpen campaign. That day, Eileen had come to find him due to Rottan’s pointless antics.

He had heard Eileen’s voice pleading and knocking on the closed door until her hands bled. Diego and Michele were beside him.

In front of his observant subordinates, Cesare had silently inspected his firearms while listening to Eileen’s cries. He had only opened the door after Eileen, exhausted from crying, finally fainted.

He had personally carried her unconscious body to the car. After looking at her tear-streaked face for a moment, he closed the car door and sent her away.

The reason he hadn’t opened the door sooner was clear: he had been prepared to die.

Cesare was fully aware of his significance in Eileen’s life and the depth of her affection for him.

He believed that he needed to distance himself further from those feelings. To Cesare, it was a natural decision. He thought that if he survived and returned, he could provide her with the comfort she needed. If he died, the separation would be a natural end.

This reasoning also applied to his choice not to respond to any of Eileen’s letters. He was always anticipating his own death.

However, while he had often imagined his own death, he had never contemplated Eileen’s.

He never imagined that Eileen would see herself as a pet, that her neck would be cut off at the guillotine, that her body would be torn apart, and that she would have no proper remains to be remembered.

Cesare turned the pages of the diary, each one seeming to cut into him like a blade, as he continued to read the remnants of Eileen’s writing.

Eileen had resolved to create Morpheus to be useful to him, fluctuating between joy and despair with the news from the battlefield. She even bought a gift to celebrate Cesare’s victory.

While Cesare was negotiating with the King of Calpen and dealing with the rebels, Eileen anxiously awaited his return. She prayed to God and wished more fervently than anyone for his success.

Her days were consumed by thoughts of Cesare. The very last entry in the diary was also filled with reflections on him.

[The Kalpen resistance seems to be persistent. Even though Your Excellency has won, I still cannot feel at ease. You must return soon.

Honestly, I’m a bit scared. What if, after you return, you don’t come looking for me? If I have truly lost your affection completely, then now...

I shouldn’t be too greedy. I just hope you return safely and in good health. May God have mercy and grant my prayers.]

Cesare slowly closed the diary, feeling the weight of the platinum pocket watch resting quietly in his pocket. The watch, scratched and damaged, was a gift Eileen had prepared for him.

What should I have done with you?

Cesare had always treated Eileen according to his own standards. Whether she wanted it or not, he acted as he believed was right. His confident judgments, which had never faltered before, were now exposed as flawed by Eileen’s death.

She had been a timid, tearful child. She must have trembled with fear while waiting alone in the underground dungeon and as she faced the guillotine. Yet, until the end, she never blamed Cesare, believing only that it was her own fault.

Cesare sat with the diary in his hands for a long time, perched on the windowsill. He could neither put it down nor reopen it to read. He simply sat in silence, letting time pass.

As dusk fell, his submerged consciousness slowly awakened. Though only a few hours had passed, it felt like an eternity. Cesare placed the diary back on the bookshelf, closed the bedroom door, and made his way downstairs and outside.

In the garden, now a barren expanse with only a grotesque pit remaining where the orange trees once stood, his knights awaited him.

Rottan, Senon, Diego, and Michele—each knight Cesare had personally chosen—stood with grim expressions. Cesare finally spoke.

"I found Eileen’s diary."

His voice was hoarse and strained, and he didn’t even know why he had spoken. The words had slipped out without his realization.

Cesare and the knights stared at each other in silence. These men, who had dedicated their lives to him and were ready to die for him, were now waiting for his command. After a long pause, Cesare finally spoke.

"Have the troops gather at the regime."

***

A faint noise stirred Eileen from her sleep. She slowly opened her eyes, her groggy mind struggling to make sense of her surroundings.

She was no longer in the old house but in a carriage making its way back to the Grand Duchy. She had fallen asleep in Cesare’s arms, and now, as she gradually became aware of her surroundings, the red glow of the sunset outside the window came into focus.

Despite waking, everything still felt dreamlike. The low rumble of the carriage, the warmth of Cesare’s embrace, and the fading daylight all seemed surreal.

Eileen lifted her head slightly and looked at Cesare with dazed eyes. His red eyes, which had been fixed on the window, turned toward her. She wanted to hold his gaze and managed to whisper his name.

"Cesare..."

Her voice was hoarse from sleep. Instead of replying, Cesare drew her closer and hugged her tightly. Their eyes met, locked in an unspoken exchange.

They said that after spending a long time together, one could understand the other’s heart through their eyes. Despite knowing Cesare for years, Eileen felt she still didn’t fully understand him. His gaze, filled with an intensity she couldn’t decipher, remained a mystery. Despite her lifetime of curiosity and observation, he continued to be an enigma she could never fully grasp.

The man, bathed in the twilight glow, had eyes that were even redder and clearer than the sunset. He spoke softly, his voice a gentle caress.

"You are my wife and the Grand Duchess."

He tilted his head slightly toward Eileen, their faces almost touching.

"Not a pet."

The sudden declaration was disorienting, and Eileen’s foggy mind struggled to grasp its meaning. As she attempted to piece together the context, memories of her diary resurfaced.

"Did you... read all of my diary...?"

Cesare responded with a brief, silent smile before pressing his lips to hers. The kiss was a wordless affirmation of his understanding. Eileen accepted the kiss calmly, then whispered again.

"When did you read it...?"

The question came out as a mumble. Still trying to shake off the remnants of sleep, she continued.

"What I wrote in the diary... was not all my true feelings. Some of it was just fleeting thoughts..."

As she stumbled over her explanations, Cesare’s gentle smile remained. He brushed his fingers against Eileen’s cheek.

"When you disappeared, it was the only trace left of you."

His words seemed to come from another time, wrapped in a sense of déjà vu that Eileen had felt before. She looked closely at him as Cesare met her gaze.

"So, Eileen, if your name were engraved on the Arc de Triomphe, it would serve as a constant reminder of you."

Cesare’s lips, which had roamed across Eileen’s face, now descended to her neck. He placed a tender kiss on the area already marked by scars and bite marks.

"Every time I see that name, I will remember you as well."

Just as the Arc de Triomphe was erected in honor of the Grand Duchy’s glory, Cesare spoke these words as a testament to Eileen’s enduring presence in his life. 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ𝓋𝑒𝑙.𝑐𝘰𝑚

***