Chapter 108 : The Weight of Truth and Treachery
✦✧✦ Chapter 𝟏𝟎𝟖 ✦✧✦
❝ The Weight of Truth and Treachery ❞
“Even love, when shrouded in silence, can wound more deeply than hate.”
✧ 𖥸 ✧
A crushing sense of despair seized my body all at once, as though the very air had thickened with sorrow. My shoulders, once stiff with pride and disbelief, dropped in surrender.
I had known, of course, that Johannes hadn’t fallen in love with me at first sight. I never harbored such illusions. Still, the pain of having to question his present affections was unbearable.
I asked, my voice trembling, though I tried to hold it steady:
“Could that even be called love?”
Johannes had never spoken the words—not once. But everything we had shared, the fleeting warmth, the stolen glances, the moments when silence spoke louder than speech… all of it had felt like love to me.
How could he hide something so monumental from me?
“Please, say something.”
At my plea, his expression flickered—not with guilt, but mild annoyance. As if explaining himself yet again was a tedious obligation. A silence lingered between us before he finally spoke, his voice cool and measured.
“What matters between us now… is something else entirely.”
My breath hitched.
“What could possibly matter more than this?”
“I’ve decided that emotions should wait,” he said. “You’re emotional by nature, Edith. I’ve seen it. Even when you try to act rational.”
The words struck like stones to the chest. And the worst part was—I couldn’t even refute him.
He continued, his voice unwavering:
“It’s a matter of priorities.”
I looked into his dark, hollow eyes. The pain carved into me was not just from what he said, but how he said it. Calm. Detached. Distant.
“…Have you always lived like this?”
“That’s usually the case.”
Perhaps he never saw the need to live any differently. And perhaps, I thought, he would never understand me—not in this life, nor the next.
Lowering my gaze, I glanced at the polished tips of his shoes—immaculate, pristine—then at my own, dusty and unkempt. The distance between us was more than emotional. It was in every detail, every gesture, every breath.
“I can’t live like that,” I whispered. “Maybe I’m weak, but this… this is my first time confronting something so complex. I don’t know how to react.”
My fingers curled into tight fists, trembling in secret.
“You’ve always gotten what you wanted, haven’t you? Even if the methods were questionable. There was never anyone to call you out. So now, you don’t even feel sorry for what you did to me.”
Silence.
“You claimed to regret getting involved with me… but you certainly don’t look like it now.”
He looked down at my clenched hands.
“I only wanted to protect you. I believed that was the way.”
“By hiding the truth?” I asked, bitterly.
He nodded slightly.
“How can you say you didn’t want to hurt me—while asking me for a divorce?”
I bit my lower lip, tasted blood, and then asked:
“So what did you gain?”
“Nothing. That’s why I regret it even more.”
“…And how can I believe you now?”
“I won’t insult you by asking you to. There’s nothing more pathetic than trying to display feelings that may not even exist.”
Still so calm. So calculated.
I stared at him and felt like I couldn’t breathe. I wondered—what could I possibly expect from someone who thought like this? Who loved like this?
He ran his hand down his face, as if weary of himself.
“You look at me that way often,” he murmured. “This is how I was raised. I never saw value in dwelling on what’s already happened.”
It was like arguing with a stone wall.
Every time I spoke with Johannes, I wondered if I looked foolish to him—emotional, irrational. And perhaps he looked just as absurd to me—cold, unreachable.
But that didn’t mean he was right.
“There’s only one thing you should have done,” I said, breathless. “Told me the truth. Even if it was ugly. If you’d said you approached me because you suspected I was related to the Russells… but ended up falling for me anyway, I would’ve believed you.”
He remained silent.
“I might’ve felt betrayed. But I would have trusted you.”
Johannes sighed deeply.
“Are you sure?” he asked softly.
“Yes,” I replied without hesitation.
But when he addressed me again as “Edith Prim,” the ache returned. The wall between us rebuilt itself brick by cold brick.
“How can I say that,” he said, “when I knew you would react like this? And still, my heart is genuine.”
“So it’s my fault now?” I snapped. “It doesn’t matter that you lied?”
“…I’m tired.”
The moment the words left his mouth, my world stilled. Like everything around us had frozen.
He continued, barely audible:
“I just thought telling the truth wouldn’t make a difference. The damage… would be the same.”
I stood there, utterly speechless. He didn’t even look remorseful.
My legs threatened to collapse. I reached out for the doorframe, something—anything—to steady me.
“…”
But Johannes caught my hand. He held on tightly—far too tightly. I tried to pull away, but he refused to let go.
I steadied myself and said, with finality:
“You chose your pride over honesty.”
To that, Johannes gave a bitter smile.
“If you want proof of my feelings, I have none. I regret approaching you that way. And I’ve tried to make amends.”
He looked more vulnerable than before. His voice dipped, muffled and broken.
“…It hasn’t gone well.”
His eyes trembled now, darkened by fear. Maybe he truly was afraid of losing me.
“How was I supposed to tell you the truth,” he whispered, “when I knew it would lead to this?”
Even so, he tried to keep his composure.
I should never have asked. His words were dangerous. They chipped away at even the coldest doubts.
But timing is everything.
Misunderstandings, left to fester, only birth greater ones. Still… I found myself unable to trust him again.
My voice turned cold.
“In the end, you had no faith in me. You were always the rational one, weren’t you?”
“Do I seem rational to you now?” His voice cracked—barely.
But I was too wounded to see it.
I shook off his hand with force. This time, he let go.
“Yes. And now isn’t the time to toy with feelings.”
I wasn’t even sure what I wanted anymore.
“I don’t know why my father hid his ties to the Russell family. But I’ll do as you wish. I’ll go to Old Lady Russell and tell her I’m her blood. That was the point, wasn’t it?”
He said nothing.
“That’s why you married me. You invested in me—financially, emotionally—to reach her. You even protected my father’s house… and I’ll repay that debt.”
Do I love Johannes enough to do this for him? Or do I just want to test what remains of his heart?
The answer eluded me.
I turned away from him—rigid and silent as stone—and walked out, leaving the door wide open behind me.
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