My Husband Hates Me, But He Lost His Memories - Chapter 11.2
Chapter 11.2
Translator: Yonnee
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* * *
Dreams would come right before one awoke. Whenever my dreams began, I used to wake up shortly after.
I was exceptionally sensitive to my surroundings in my dreams. Whenever I dreamed, I would easily notice that it was one, and sometimes, I could control it at will. Some seem to call it ‘lucid dreaming’.
‘What kind of dream is this one.’
If it was a nightmare with Owen, Hessen or Lennon, then it would have to be dismantled, or they would have to be removed. I didn’t want to see them even in my subconscious.
Fortunately, this one seemed to be an ordinary dream. Normal… No, was it a normal dream? Was it not a nightmare?
“Lily.”
In this dream, Theodore was smiling brightly as he called my name. It was such a sweet voice that it seemed to melt in my ears. …I couldn’t believe I was dreaming anything like it, so I just stood there, dazed. How amazing. Why was I dreaming about him? This is just…
“Lily?”
As soon as I froze up, Theodore tilted his head to the side as though perplexed, then he tried to come this way.
But I hurriedly stepped back. And I muttered reflexively.
“D-Don’t come.”
It’s stupid. This is my dream, so I can just brush him aside. But why can’t I do that…
“…What’s wrong?”
…At the kind, warm gaze directed at me that seemed to be genuinely concerned, my mind went blank.
As he approached me again, he gently reached out and touched my cheek. It was such a careful touch that it seemed like he was handling a porcelain doll. I can’t breathe. No one—no one has ever treated me this way. Even my mother, who I don’t even know if she was dead or alive…
“…Don’t do this.”
“Lily, why…”
It was a dream, but he looked so real. This was why having vivid dreams was so difficult. Because it was hard to differentiate what was real and what was not.
I shook off his hand and closed my eyes. Then, I ended the dream.
As the world around me became a blur, the abyss of reality became ever so clear. And when I woke up, I was shedding tears. …Just what was that dream.
It was dark inside the bedroom. The lamp was off, and it seemed like the oil ran out. Looking at the clock, it was currently five in the morning. …Considering how I fell asleep early last night, I slept quite well.
I sighed. Then, I got out of bed to drink a glass of water. There was a subtle scent, perhaps because Charlotte had placed herb leaves in the kettle.
Feeling a little calmer, I sat close to the window. The afterimages of the dream still lingered, and so I tried to shake them off. It’s just a dream. It doesn’t mean anything. I repeated this over and over again…
At that time, the door rattled. Then, it opened.
“……!”
Shocked, I froze up as I was sitting awkwardly in my seat. Suddenly, someone came in. Even in the dark, the silhouette looked familiar. …But there’s something off.
Sway, sway. He wandered into the room, reeling as though he was about to collapse. He looked around the room as though he was searching for someone. Then, he paused when he found me by the window.
The bleary eyes seemed to soon become tumultuous. Theodore trudged towards me, still staggering.
‘It looks like he’s drunk.’
Yesterday was his older brother’s, Camillus Valentino’s, death anniversary. …Looks like he’d been drinking all night. He didn’t come here to kill me, did he?
As he came closer, now in front of me, he grabbed the arm rest at my side and collapsed. The grogginess behind his eyes disappeared as he looked up at me. Contrasting the calm blue color of his irises, intense emotions reminiscent of the color red could be seen in his eyes. Something like murderous intent, something like hatred…
…It seemed like it was close, but neither of those things. However, it wasn’t a soft emotion, but rather something that was rough, something that wanted to destroy me.
“Ha…”
He scoffed, and it sounded like a sigh. He stared at me blankly with confusion, and he muttered as though he was talking to himself.
“Why did I come here…”
That’s what I wanted to ask. He came here like this in this defenseless appearance, drunk… Why did he come to me? Was he here to kill me because his hatred for the Everett family had reached its peak? Or…
“……”
Perhaps.
That thought was there.
I couldn’t stop the idea from coming out—a paradox of hope, of despair.
Trembling, I reached out and covered his pale cheeks with both hands. At that moment, I had the sudden urge to cut off my arms.
I don’t know why I’m doing this. I don’t know what I’m feeling.
No. I know the truth. That’s why I’m going crazy.
You wanted me to turn a blind eye to you, but why…
“……”
It’s hopeless.
When I looked at Theodore Valentino, it felt like I was about to cry.
My heart hurts so much. I wish it would just stop completely. It was beating too hard.
If he approached me like this first, I can’t resist. I know what this was, this feeling of being infinitely weak.
In fact, I knew from the beginning—from the first moment I saw him in the Everett estate’s garden. That dreadful feeling of everything collapsing around me.
I know that I’d be left frustrated and miserable with feelings like this. I know I shouldn’t expect anything from him. I know I shouldn’t give in to him carelessly.
So I pressed it down as though my life depended on it.
“You…”
I don’t even know why I started speaking, and so I trailed off. Tears flowed down from Theodore’s eyes as he continued to stare at me. Just like in the garden at dawn a few days ago.
I wiped away his tears, feeling my own eyes burning. And, impulsively, I moved my arms and embraced him tightly.
His drunken body was scorching, as though he was an ember himself, burning up in flames.
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