Reborn To Change My Fate-Chapter 346 - Three Hundred And Forty Five

The long dinning table that could seat twenty people felt incredibly empty tonight. The crystal chandeliers above cast a bright light, but they could not chase away the heavy, sad shadows in the room.

Only two people sat at the massive table.

Derek sat perfectly straight at the very head of the table. He was no longer wearing his dark military uniform. He had changed into a simple, loose white shirt and dark trousers to rest his injured back. His right hand was tightly wrapped in white bandages. He stared at his silver plate, but he did not pick up his fork. He had absolutely no appetite.

Down the right side of the table, sitting in a tall wooden chair with a thick cushion, was young Ryan.

Ryan was swinging his short legs back and forth beneath the table. He looked down at his plate of roasted chicken and warm potatoes. Then, he looked up. He looked at the empty chair to his left, where Marissa always sat. He looked at the empty chair near Derek, where his great-grandmother Beatrice usually sat.

The house was too quiet. He did not like the silence.

He set his silver fork down on the table with a soft clink. He looked at Derek.

"Father," Ryan said. His small, clear voice echoed slightly in the large dining room.

Derek blinked. He slowly lifted his head from his dark thoughts. He looked at the young boy. "Yes, Ryan?"

Ryan pointed a small finger at the empty wooden chairs.

"Great grandmother and mother aren’t having dinner with us," Ryan noticed, his brow furrowing in genuine confusion. He tilted his head to the side. "Aren’t they hungry? The cooks made sweet carrots today."

Derek felt a sudden, sharp ache in his chest. The innocent question was like a small knife twisting in his heart. He looked at the empty chair where his wife belonged. He remembered how Marissa used to laugh at dinner, carefully cutting Ryan’s meat into tiny, perfect squares. Now, she was lying in a deep, magical sleep upstairs, fighting to keep her soul in her body.

Derek swallowed hard. He forced his face to remain calm and steady. He could not let the boy see his fear.

"Great grandmother is ill," Derek replied, keeping his voice very gentle and quiet. "The doctor gave her some strong medicine, so she can’t come down for dinner tonight. She is resting in her room."

Ryan nodded slowly, accepting this news. He knew older people got sick sometimes. "And mother?" he asked.

Derek took a slow breath. He looked down at the table.

"And your mother is still sleeping," Derek answered softly.

Ryan frowned. His small hands gripped the edge of the wooden table. He had taken his warm bath, put on his clean clothes, and waited patiently. But she had never come to his room to welcome him.

"But she has been sleeping all day," Ryan protested, his voice rising slightly with a child’s impatience. He wanted to ask another question. He wanted to know why she was so tired. He wanted to know when she would wake up to play with him. "Can I just go and wake her up to eat? She needs to eat so she doesn’t get a tummy ache."

Derek felt his throat tighten painfully. He could not handle the innocent questions anymore. He was holding back a massive wave of grief and exhaustion, and if he spoke about Marissa for one more second, he knew he would break down and cry in front of the boy.

Derek interrupted him before the boy could finish his thoughts.

"Eat your food," Derek said. His voice was not angry, but it was very firm and final. It left no room for arguments. He pointed at the boy’s plate. "It’s getting cold, Ryan. Eat."

Ryan stopped talking immediately. He recognized that tone of voice. It meant his father was serious.

Ryan pouted. He pushed his bottom lip out and looked down at his silver plate with sad eyes. He picked up his fork and began to push a small, roasted potato around in circles. He was disappointed, but he obeyed. He quietly poured a cup of water for himself and went back to his dinner, eating in silence.

Derek watched the boy eat. He felt a sharp stab of guilt for cutting him off, but he simply did not have the strength to explain the darkness of the world to a child.

After dinner was finally over, the servants came in to clear the plates. Derek stood up slowly, wincing slightly as the muscles in his back stretched.

He walked over to Ryan’s chair. He placed his large, uninjured left hand gently on the top of Ryan’s messy hair.

Derek leaned down. He kissed Ryan softly on his warm cheek.

"Goodnight, my boy," Derek whispered.

Ryan looked up at him, the pout completely gone from his face. He wrapped his small arms around Derek’s waist and gave him a quick hug.

"Good night, father," Ryan replied cheerfully.

Miss Nancy stepped forward to take Ryan by the hand. She led the young boy out of the dining room and down the hall toward his own bedroom. Derek watched them go until they disappeared around the corner.

An hour later, the Thompson estate was completely dark and silent.

Derek was in the master bedroom. The large fire in the hearth was burning low, casting a warm, orange glow across the room. Marissa was still lying in the center of the massive four-poster bed. She had not moved a single inch. Her chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm, but she remained completely unresponsive.

Derek had pulled a heavy wooden desk close to the side of the bed. He needed to be near her. He could not leave her alone, even for a minute.

A single, thick wax candle burned on the desk, providing a small circle of yellow light. Derek was leaning over the desk. He had a large pile of work sitting in front of him. There were military reports, letters from the royal court, and documents preparing for his upcoming coronation as King. He held a feathered quill in his bandaged right hand, trying to sign the important papers. His hand ached terribly, but the work of the kingdom could not stop.

Suddenly, there was a very soft, quiet knock on the bedroom door.

Derek stopped writing. He raised his head from the pile of work on his desk. He frowned, wondering who would dare disturb him this late at night. He had given strict orders for the staff to stay away.

"Come in," Derek said, keeping his voice low so he would not disturb Marissa’s rest.

The heavy brass handle slowly turned. He saw the door open just a few inches.

Ryan walked in.