Reborn: The Duke's Obsession
Chapter 99 - Ninety Nine

Chapter 99: Chapter Ninety Nine

Delia and Eric entered their small, rustic room, leaving the rainy world behind. The sound of the heavy downpour drumming on the roof created a cozy, intimate atmosphere, trapping them together in the warm, candlelit space. After taking turns bathing and changing into dry, simple nightwear, a comfortable but charged silence settled between them.

Eric sat on the edge of the far side of the bed, his expression soft and a little hesitant. He looked at Delia, who was standing awkwardly by the small washbasin drying her hair.

"I promise," he began, his voice a low, sincere murmur that was barely audible over the sound of the rain. "I will just hold your hand while we sleep. Nothing else. I’m still having trouble sleeping at night, please."

Delia looked at him, at the genuine, vulnerable offer in his eyes. A part of her, a part she had long kept locked away, yearned to accept, to feel that simple comfort but her logical side took over. "Fine then," she replied, her voice quiet.

Eric’s expression immediately lightened with a pure, boyish joy. "Really?" he beamed, his whole face lighting up like a little boy who finally got what he was promised.

"You can have the whole bed," Delia continued, her defensive walls immediately shooting back up. " That should be enough space for you."

The joy on his face vanished, replaced by a look of utter confusion. He watched as she took her own pillow and the spare blanket from the foot of the bed. "Where will you sleep?" he asked.

"I will take the floor," she said, her tone matter-of-fact as she prepared to get down from the bed.

Before she could, Eric moved, blocking her path. "We will just be sleeping, is there anything wrong with that?" he asked, his voice now laced with a familiar, teasing amusement. "Or are you perhaps having some dirty thoughts, my duchess?"

"What?" Delia replied, her cheeks flushing. " What are you saying now?"

"You don’t think you can control yourself when you are lying next to me in this bed, right?" he continued, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He leaned back, wrapping his arms around himself in a protective gesture. "Like you might... pounce on me?"

Delia looked at him, at his playful, ridiculous pose, and couldn’t help the small hesitate smile that tugged at her lips. "Who is pouncing on who, exactly?" she retorted.

She sighed, a sound of fond annoyance. She shifted and, just as she had done the night before, she began to build a formidable barricade of pillows down the exact middle of the bed. "Fine," she declared. "You can sleep on the bed. But you stay on your side, and I will stay on mine. And do not touch me, and do not cross this line."

" What if I mistakenly touch you or I mistakenly cross Delia’s side, will I have Delia all to myself?" He asked innocently. He looked like a puppy wagging its tail waiting for a treat.

" I’ll break your fingers." She rushed her reply.

Eric looked at the pillow wall, then back at her. "But have you already forgotten what happened to the ones you put up last night?" he asked, a teasing grin on his face.

"Whatever," Delia replied, dismissing his comment as she covered herself with her own blanket, turning her back to him. "Can you just put out the light?"

Eric went around the room and extinguished all the lamps, leaving only the single candle on the bedside table flickering, casting long, dancing shadows on the walls. He got into his side of the bed, but instead of lying down to sleep, he sat up, his back resting against the rough wooden headboard.

He looked at Delia’s form, a small lump under the blankets, her back resolutely turned to him. He looked at the ridiculous, hopeful wall of pillows that separated them. He sat there in silence for a minute, the only sounds the drumming of the rain and her soft, even breathing.

"What are you so afraid of, Delia?" he asked softly into the quiet room.

She was silent, pretending to be asleep.

He continued, his voice a low, thoughtful murmur. "You change emotions in the snap of a finger. One minute, when you’re by my side, you are happy. You are laughing, you are free, you are with me. Then the next minute, you are sad and you are pushing me away, building walls between us."

"What are you talking about?" Delia replied without facing him, her voice slightly muffled by the pillow. "I had a lot of fun today. The rain was nice."

"I don’t know," Eric said, his voice full of a deep, searching empathy. He was piecing it all together—her desperation for revenge, her fear of the future, her moments of unguarded joy. "When I was watching you in the rain... you looked like you knew, somehow, that you would not get to experience a moment like that again. Like it was your last time being happy." He paused, his next words hitting the very core of her fear. "That’s the reason you keep pushing me away, isn’t it? It’s why you refuse to see me as a real man, a real husband. Is that why you keep retreating behind our contract?"

He leaned forward slightly, his voice now a gentle, heartbreaking whisper. "Are you afraid that we won’t stay together for very long? Are you going somewhere I can’t follow and you’re afraid you are going to hurt me if you accept my feelings?"

His words, so perceptive, so dangerously close to the impossible truth, made her entire body go still. She looked down at her left wrist, hidden under the warm blanket. In her mind’s eye, she saw the rosebud tattoo, its petals dwindling away, a beautiful, terrifying clock counting down to a fate she did not know. His deduction was so accurate, it was as if he could see the secret mark on her skin, as if he could read the deepest, most hidden terror in her very soul.