Reborn: The Duke's Obsession-Chapter 280 - Two Hundred And Eighty

The grand residence was asleep. A deep, heavy silence had fallen over the sprawling corridors, the kind of quiet that only comes in the darkest hours of the night. But in the hallway leading to the master bedroom, a soft, solitary light moved. Delia, dressed in a simple white nightgown, her hair unbound and falling over her shoulders, walked with a quiet, determined purpose.

A maid followed a few steps behind her, her own footsteps nearly silent on the thick carpet. As they reached the large oak doors of Eric's room, Delia turned.

"Is everything I asked for ready?" she asked, her voice a low whisper.

"Yes, Your Grace," the maid replied, her own voice hushed in the solemn quiet. "A basin of warm water, the fragrant oils you requested, fresh towels and linens, and the doctor's prescribed medicine are all by the bedside."

"Good. Thank you," Delia said. "That will be all for now. If I need anything, I'll let you know. You can go and get some rest."

The maid curtsied deeply. "Goodnight, Your Grace." She then turned and disappeared back down the dark hallway, leaving Delia alone with her nightly ritual.

Delia pushed the heavy door open and entered, closing it gently behind her. The room was dim, lit by a single, low-burning lantern on a side table, casting long, soft shadows. Eric lay in the center of the vast bed, unnaturally still, his breathing shallow but steady. As the maid had promised, everything was prepared. A basin of steaming water sent a faint, calming scent of lavender and chamomile into the air. A neat stack of white towels, a small bottle of fragrant oil, and another of medicine sat waiting. 𝙛𝒓𝒆𝙚𝒘𝒆𝓫𝙣𝓸𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝓶

She sat in the armchair she kept pulled close to the bed and began her work. This was a private, intimate task she allowed no one else to perform. She gently undid the buttons of his day shirt. With a soft cloth dipped in the warm, oiled water, she began to clean him. She wiped his face, his neck, his broad shoulders and chest. His skin, usually so warm and full of life, felt cool and passive beneath her touch.

She worked with a tender, practiced efficiency, her movements full of a love that was now channeled into this simple, profound act of care.

When she reached his wounds, she took a steadying breath. With hands that refused to tremble, she carefully unwrapped the bandages around his abdomen and shoulder. The injuries were grim, the stitches dark lines against his pale skin, the bruising a mottled purple and blue.

She cleaned them as the doctor had instructed, her touch as gentle as a feather, before applying a fresh salve and wrapping them in clean, white linen. She then dressed him in a fresh, soft nightshirt, making sure he was comfortable and warm.

Finally, she turned her attention to the small bottle of liquid medicine the doctor had prescribed to be administered through a dropper. Before opening it, she held it up to the lantern light, checking the color and clarity, and then uncorked it to check the smell. After Philip and Augusta, her trust in the world was a fragile thing. She would never be careless with his life.

Satisfied that it was untampered with, she carefully administered the correct dose into the corner of his mouth, stroking his throat gently to help him swallow.

After she was done, when he was clean and comfortable, she sat beside him again, her work complete. She picked up his hand, lacing her fingers through his.

"Eric," she whispered into the quiet room, her voice thick with unshed tears. "I have finally realized it. The reason I came back… all the pain, the confusion… it all led me to you. And meeting you… it taught me who I am."

She brought his hand to her cheek, pressing his warm palm against her skin, closing her eyes as if she could absorb his life force through the simple touch.

"It taught me what I want," she continued, her voice trembling. "What makes me truly happy… who I really am." A single tear escaped and dropped onto the back of his hand. "The reason some force, or 'fate' as they call it, gave me my life back… I see it now. It was to live my life properly. To be happy." Her voice broke. "To be with you."

She gently placed his hand back on the bed, her own hand lingering on top of it. She leaned over, resting her jaw on his chest, her arm serving as a cushion. She looked at his peaceful, sleeping face, his features relaxed, free from the pain that had haunted him.

"There's so much I want to do with you," she spoke softly, her breath warming his skin. "So many places I want to see. There are so many recipes of yours I still want to taste." She had to stop, a choked sob catching in her throat, the thought of all the simple, happy moments they might never share, an unbearable weight. She fought back the tears, forcing her voice to be steady. "So please," she pleaded with the sleeping man. "Please come back to me."

She caressed his cheek, her fingers tracing the strong line of his jaw. She gently arranged a lock of his dark hair that had fallen across his forehead. "I'll be waiting for you," she whispered, a promise and a prayer. "We will be waiting for you. Okay?"

A small, watery smile touched her lips. She stood up and leaned down, pressing a long, tender kiss to his cheek. She sat back down in the armchair, but the distance felt too great. She slid from the chair to the bed, resting her head gently on his chest, right over his heart. She closed her eyes, listening to the slow, steady, reassuring rhythm of his heartbeat.

Thump-thump.

Thump-thump.

It was the sound of hope. It was the sound of him still being here. And with that sound as her lullaby, she finally cried herself to sleep.