The Daily Life of an Ordinary Couple (6)
Aracila signed the last document of the day and rubbed her weary eyes. The emotional toll of the quiet, unspoken tension with her husband had been mounting steadily.
Arms crossed, she leaned back loosely in her chair, tilting her head upward. The ceiling of her office, once unfamiliar but now a comforting constant, came into view.
Why didn’t Damian welcome the news of their child? The question, mulled over for days, resurfaced in her mind yet again.
If they were still bound by the contractual marriage of their early days, his reaction might have made sense. But now, their marriage was sustained by love, wasn’t it?
Moreover, if anyone’s work would be disrupted by the arrival of a child, it would be hers, not his. So why had he responded to her pregnancy with such ambivalence?
Does he just dislike children?
To be fair, Aracila herself wasn’t particularly fond of children either, but the thought of bearing a child with the man she loved had sparked joy in her heart first and foremost.
Perhaps Damian didn’t even feel that spark—maybe he disliked children so much that the idea held no appeal at all.
It suddenly dawned on her that she and Damian had never once had a serious conversation about having children. For her, it had been a matter of indifference—fine if it happened, fine if it didn’t—so she’d never brought it up. But her husband’s stance might be entirely different.
I really need to have a deep, honest talk with him.
They couldn’t go on in this cold war forever. It was time to lay their feelings bare, understand each other’s truths, and find a way to reconcile.
With that resolve, Aracila left work a little earlier than usual, returning home to wait for Damian. She even prepared a generous spread of tea and snacks in case their conversation stretched long.
But as dusk deepened into evening, he still hadn’t returned. Unable to wait any longer, Aracila sent someone to the knights’ order to check, only to learn that Damian had left hours ago.
She summoned the butler to see if she’d missed any mention of Damian’s evening plans.
“Albert, did Damian say anything about a commitment this evening?” she asked.
“No, my lady. I haven’t heard of any,” the butler replied, bowing apologetically.
So, Damian was out there somewhere, absent without a word or reason. Even if things had been strained between them lately, this was unacceptable.
Dismissing the staff, Aracila sat on the sofa, suppressing her anger with measured calm. By the time the tea had gone from cool to cold, Damian finally appeared. It was nearly nighttime.
“Why are you so late?” she demanded sharply the moment his tall, imposing figure stepped into the room.
Startled, Damian quietly closed the door and approached her hesitantly. He’d already been warned on his way home that his unannounced tardiness had upset his wife.
“…My dear, were you waiting for me?” he asked cautiously.
“Is that even a question?” she shot back.
Aracila stood abruptly, planting herself in front of him. As she fixed him with a piercing stare, she noticed his fidgeting, like a child caught in trouble. Then, faintly, the scent of alcohol reached her.
“Have you been drinking?” she asked, her face a mask of disbelief.
Damian, unable to deny it, rubbed the back of his neck and muttered softly, “…Just half a glass, alone.”
It was the unvarnished truth. Wandering aimlessly through the park hadn’t eased his turmoil, so he’d stopped by a social club and sipped exactly half a glass of liquor.
The staff had looked at him in bewilderment as he left after barely touching the expensive drink, but even that small amount had left his chest burning. He hadn’t gotten drunk, though, and made it home safely—though he hadn’t managed to mask the lingering scent of the club’s liquor.
Aracila pressed a hand to her forehead and let out a heavy sigh, stunned that her husband, who rarely drank, had gone out to drink alone.
Getting emotional here won’t help. She closed her eyes briefly, then opened them, gripping Damian’s arm firmly as she spoke.
“Damian, what’s going on with you?”
Her voice, a touch lower than usual, carried a multitude of emotions. So did the blue eyes that gazed up at him intently.
“Do you not want this child? Are you confused because it’s something you didn’t really want?”
“Absolutely not,” Damian said, startled, shaking his head vehemently. The very idea of rejecting their child was unthinkable to him.
His earnest response brought a wave of relief to Aracila. If he truly hadn’t wanted the child, she would have been inevitably hurt.
The worst-case scenario had been avoided, but the issue remained unresolved.
“Then explain it to me properly,” she pressed. “Do you expect me to keep agonizing over this alone? While I’m carrying our child?”
“Never. I’m truly sorry, my dear,” Damian said, gently taking her hand and bowing his head in apology. He stood there, motionless, for a long moment.
Aracila waited patiently for him to speak. After several deep breaths, Damian finally spoke in a low, measured voice.
“…It’s not that I don’t want the child. Quite the opposite—I’m worried the child won’t want me.”
“What do you mean?” Aracila asked, her eyes widening as she looked up at him. His cheeks were flushed, whether from the faint alcohol or something else, and his eyes were tinged with a different kind of red.
For a moment, she was at a loss for words. Damian’s voice, low and hoarse, continued.
“As you know, I didn’t have a normal upbringing. Can someone as flawed and incomplete as me really be a good father?”
“I’m afraid I’ll repeat the same mistakes as my father. That I’ll make our beloved child unhappy . . .”
Most people would feel joy first at the news of a child, but for Damian, raised by an abusive and neglectful father, the initial wave was fear.
What if the cruel image of his father, etched into him since childhood, lingered like a hidden nature within him? Could he truly raise his child without plunging them into the same misery he’d endured?
Of course, he would strive with all his might to never become such a father, but for Damian, who had never known a father’s love, anxiety was inevitable.
“And I’m sorry it feels like I’m holding you back, just when you’ve become the head of the Magic Tower.”
He raised a hand to touch his heated eyes.
His grand promise to perfectly support Aracila so her dreams wouldn’t be hindered had crumbled to nothing. Her pregnancy would inevitably bring professional constraints, no matter how much he wished otherwise.
A tangled, dizzying mix of emotions consumed Damian. From the moment he discovered the hidden family of teddy bears, he had turned a blade of doubt and self-reproach on himself.
“. . . Damian.”
Only now realizing this, Aracila gripped her husband’s hand firmly.
“Damian, look at me.”
When he finally lowered the hand covering his face, his damp eyes were revealed. A hot surge of emotion welled up in Aracila’s chest.
Have you been crying alone like this all along?
She had thought that Damian’s revenge had erased the shadows of his childhood. But the scars of abuse still lingered somewhere in his heart, like faint wounds.
Her heart ached with regret and guilt for not recognizing it sooner, and the tip of her nose stung.
“You’re not like the former duke. You know how to overcome pain, how to love someone, and because of that, you know how to find happiness.”
Her voice trembled with emotion as Aracila spoke softly. Damian leaned into the gentle hand wiping his eyes, surrendering his face to her touch.
“. . . My lady, do you think I can be a good father?”
“Yes, without a doubt. Because you grew up bathed in your mother’s love. You’ll be able to share that love with our child.”
Aracila smiled brightly, not a trace of doubt in her expression. Her unwavering trust pulled Damian’s sinking heart back to the surface.
With Aracila by his side, he felt the confidence and faith to overcome any hardship or adversity, dispelling the shadows that had clouded him.
“And above all, don’t ever think our child is blocking my path. If I face unfair treatment because of my pregnancy, that’s their fault—not yours or our child’s.”
Aracila would be lying if she said she hadn’t had those worries when she first learned of her pregnancy. But she quickly steadied her resolve. Marriage or pregnancy didn’t mean she was incapable of anything.
She would continue to carry out her duties as the head of the Magic Tower, and that would persist until the day she retired. Aracila squared her shoulders and lifted her chin proudly as she declared,
“Don’t you trust me, Damian? Pregnant or not, I’m still Aracila Vandermir.”
“. . . You’re right. You’re the greatest mage I admire.”
Damian let out a soft chuckle. His eyes, now dry of tears, brimmed with love for his wife.
Aracila stretched out her arms and pulled him into an embrace. Damian wrapped his arms around her in return, showering kisses on the crown of her head.
“I’m so happy about our child, my lady. Let’s start preparing the nursery tomorrow.”
“Isn’t that a bit soon? I’m not even two months along yet.”
“Then we’ll have to wait eight more months to meet our child. I wish someone would knock me out and fast-forward time.”
Aracila burst into laughter at the whispered wish laced with a fervent sigh. After days of strain, their reconciliation was remarkably simple and easy.
Damian gently caressed his wife’s still-flat belly with his large hand.
Isaac had once said that good children grow under good fathers. Lucas had claimed that a son raised by a bad father could never become a good one himself.
Both were right, and both were wrong.
Even under a bad father, a good child can grow, and that child can grow up to be a good father in turn.
Rubbing his nose against Aracila’s and kissing her softly, Damian made a vow. To be a good husband to Aracila and a good father to their child.
To ensure that their family, at the very least, would be happy.
* * *
News of Aracila’s pregnancy spread slowly. To Marquis Hugo’s household, to friends, to colleagues at work, and even to the newspapers.
There were words of congratulations, but also those tinged with worry and concern. The couple paid them no mind. Life was too short to focus on anything but love and happiness.
They quietly continued their routine: waking up in the same bed each morning, sharing a good-morning kiss, eating together, riding separate carriages to work, and reuniting at home in the evening.
As time passed, their child grew, and Aracila’s once-flat belly began to round gently.
One peaceful afternoon.
“The baby just kicked, Damian.”
“Really?”
Damian, who had been reading to his wife with an arm around her shoulders, quickly placed his hand on her belly. The calloused palm felt the thrilling sensation of their child’s movement.
What had once been formless was now asserting its presence, inching closer to the day it would meet its parents.
Damian stroked Aracila’s belly slowly with a tender touch and whispered. That Mommy and Daddy couldn’t wait to meet them, that they were eagerly counting the days.
When their eyes met, the couple broke into joyful laughter.
It was the everyday life of an ordinary couple.
The End of a Special Contract Marriage
