Chapter 116

He was the one who threw himself at me every single time—and then he had the nerve to issue me a formal prohibition.

As if I had been the one doing the throwing.

But at his announcement, I turned away so he wouldn’t see me smile.

‘So I can finally sleep in peace.’

Being with my husband was lovely—but honestly, the frequency had been genuinely excessive. He wasn’t exactly gentle about it either. There were moments when it felt less like affection and more like an ordeal.

The next morning.

Emily, perceptive as ever, picked up on it immediately.

“My lady. You seem particularly cheerful today. Has something good happened?”

“Oh! How could you tell?”

“You’ve been doing a small shoulder dance since a little while ago.”

“Ah, is that right! Emily—my husband has banned sleeping together!”

“He’s banned it?”

“Yes!”

“What’s the reason?”

I tilted my head and thought about it.

“Hmm. I’m not sure? I didn’t ask.”

Come to think of it, we hadn’t been intimate at all since the birth. Of course, I had been in recovery until recently—so that was natural enough.

I shrugged as though it were nothing of consequence.

“Maybe things have just settled down now that we’ve been married a while? You can’t live in a permanent honeymoon state. He has some conscience, after all. It was bound to cool off eventually!”

Emily let out a gentle breath.

“As expected. You have no idea.”

“What! Do ‘you’ know?”

“I hear things.”

“Really? Then what’s the reason?”

I asked lightly. Emily answered without hesitation.

“The master has developed a trauma.”

“Good heavens. What kind of trauma?”

He was my husband and I loved him—but to hear he was suffering from a trauma made my heart drop.

“From your labor. Since then, it seems the anxiety of possibly losing you has become quite severe.”

“What! Over one birth!”

“My lady. The leading cause of death among women is childbirth.”

“Well—yes, but—I’m perfectly fine now. I recovered quickly!”

“Hmm. Have you forgotten that you were in labor for ten hours?”

“…That was—”

“What do you imagine the duke felt during those ten hours?”

I had never really thought about it from that angle.

I fell quiet, listening to Emily with a new seriousness.

“I find it entirely understandable. And all he could do during those hours was wait.”

“…Honestly. You’d think nothing could get to a man like him—and then he goes and has this kind of worry.”

I had suddenly become rather grave.

He had shown no sign of it at all. It never occurred to me that he might be struggling with something like this.

Looking back now, all the pieces fell into place.

“…So that’s why he declared no more sleeping together.”

“Yes. It is, after all, the most reliable form of contraception.”

“I see…”

“It also seems he has been consistently taking both a desire suppressant and a contraceptive.”

“He’s taking that many medications! What if he develops a dependency!”

“Fortunately, the only known side effect is a decrease in desire.”

“…That’s genuinely a relief. I mean that sincerely.”

I absolutely meant it. My husband could stand to have his desire decreased significantly.

That said. I had no idea Kael was this anxious…

“Emily, is there anything that might help ease his anxiety?”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never personally experienced the anxiety that comes from watching a wife give birth.”

“For now, I’ll go visit him today and show him my best face. If he sees that I’m well and happy, maybe the anxiety will ease a little.”

“That sounds like a good idea.”

“Yes! Thank you for telling me, Emily!”

I pushed the heaviness aside and added, scratching my cheek with studied casualness:

“…Still. The desire reduction really is a blessing.”

* * *

The duke’s desire had not decreased in the slightest.

His recent habit of staying late at the office had its own particular reason.

“‘Damn.’ Ivelina.”

He breathed out a heated exhale at the photograph of her on his desk.

His smooth forehead was covered in a fine sheen of effort. The thick veins along his hands stood out visibly.

He stared at the baby rabbit in the photograph with his brow deeply furrowed. She was looking back at him with a smile like spring sunlight.

He bit down and swore under his breath.

“‘Damn.’ How can she be so unbearable to look at.”

He took his contraceptive consistently, preparing for any unforeseen eventuality. He took the desire suppressant alongside it.

And still—his love and his want for Ivelina showed no sign of cooling. If anything, since her labor, even the sight of her smile made his heart crash and plummet.

Because he loved her too much. So much he wanted to squeeze her until she burst.

“‘Ngh.'”

He stared at her laughing face in the photograph and bit down hard.

* * *

‘Good heavens.’

I had gone to visit my husband’s study, on Emily’s advice, with the thought of bringing him some refreshments.

I had opened the door very carefully—and there he was.

“‘Ha.’ Ivelina.”

Brow deeply creased, breathing out a ragged, heated exhale. Clearly in some distress.

‘…He was holding back this much.’

I felt a flicker of sympathy—

‘But wait—the side effect of the medication was supposed to be decreased desire! Why isn’t that one working on him?’

I hugged my silver tray to my chest and fled.

At a glance, my husband was not in his right mind. Those crimson eyes were glazed with unmistakable hunger, and the veins along his throat stood stark and prominent.

If he caught me like this, he would grab me by the scruff and drag me off to do unspeakable things—!

“‘Hah, hah!'”

I ran hard and made it to the bedroom. I changed into my nightclothes as fast as my hands would allow. I needed to be convincingly asleep before he arrived.

Once I had changed, I rubbed my arms and shuddered. Genuine goosebumps had broken out all over my skin.

“Ugh. The back of my neck is going cold.”

His aura had been particularly dangerous tonight. I had seen that look on his face once before, I thought.

‘Wasn’t it when I was wearing Dad’s shirt and working at his buttons? It was something like that.’

“Ugh, that was so frightening. If I get caught when he’s like that, I might actually not survive.”

I left a note—’terribly sorry, too tired tonight, couldn’t wait up’—and got into bed. I pulled the covers up to the very top of my head and squeezed my eyes shut.

My heart was still hammering. If our eyes had met earlier, I would have been dragged in immediately.

That night, perhaps because I’d encountered my husband’s frightening face for the first time in a while, I had a nightmare.

A dream in which my husband spent the entire day stabbing and striking and tormenting me.

‘”Was he really that good to you? Hm?”‘

‘”Hah— please! S—save me— huu— urk!”‘

‘”It doesn’t matter. You’re mine, Ivelina.”‘

* * *