Betrothed to My Sister's Ex

I was asked repeatedly if I was really okay, and each time I nodded, yet still didn’t let go of his hand.

After a moment of hesitation, Lord Cyrus gently took my hand.

“Ah, I understand. When you’re not feeling well, you get anxious and want someone to stay by your side, don’t you?”

Could that be true? Maybe… I was half convinced, but then I shook my head again.

“It’s not because of the fever. And it’s not just ‘someone’… I want you to be here.”

Saying it out loud made me realize it was the truth.

I began to notice things I’d never thought of when I was alone.

Lord Cyrus’s hand trembled slightly. But his voice remained calm. He didn’t sit down but comforted me with his gentle, mature face and words.

“If this is your way of thanking me for nursing you, you don’t need to worry about that.”

I didn’t understand what he meant, so I shook my head once more.

“Why would me being selfish count as a thank you to you?”

“...That’s…”

He searched for words for a moment, his gaze drifting into space. Then he looked back at me.

“Because ever since earlier, I’ve only been hearing things that make me happy.”

His green eyes looked into mine. The corners of his eyes were moist, and his gaze was so sweet it melted me.

…When did I start being able to look straight into these eyes? At first, I was too afraid, then too embarrassed, and I couldn’t meet his gaze. But little by little, chances to look into each other’s eyes increased.

Whenever I looked up, his gaze was always there. Even when I looked down, he was always watching me.

I said,

“I… like your eyes.”

The hand that was just resting there gripped mine tightly. It was hot. Much hotter than I was after my illness — Lord Cyrus’s fingers.

The same hand that supported me when I was anxious and stumbled.

“I also like your hands. Bigger than mine, always warm, strong yet gentle. I really like your hands.”

Lord Cyrus’s hand lifted and softly rested on top of my head. His body heat transferred through my hair.

“...I’m happy when you touch me.”

Lord Cyrus stroked my head as if soothing a child. His dark-skinned fingers tangled in my red hair.

“Even when you’re gentle with me now, it doesn’t hurt anymore. It only makes me happy. Only brings me happiness.”

His thumb rubbed my temple, and his palm pressed against my cheek. Slowly, it caressed the softness of my cheek.

“So… if you stay by my side, I’ll be happy.”

His four fingers stroked beneath my chin.

Facing me like that, Lord Cyrus asked,

“In the carriage… you told me you liked me.”

“...Yes.”

“Was that fevered nightmare talk? Or a slip of the tongue? Or did I mishear? Or was it me who was dreaming?”

The truth was, it was a slip of the tongue. But I shook my head and spoke again clearly.

“I like you.”

Lord Cyrus’s thumb brushed my lips. I closed my eyes.

Even without words, I understood his intention.

So, without any surprise, with calm feelings, I welcomed his kiss.

…A shallow, soft kiss, like two children touching lips. Gentler than I expected, but surprisingly long.

When he finally pulled away, Lord Cyrus whispered close to me.

“I’ve liked you since the moment we first met.”

Then once more, this time deeper than before, he pressed his lips against mine.