My Ex-Husband Came Back Crazy - Chapter 90

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 90
Chapter 9. Remnants (10)
What was supposed to happen now?
“My… my gums are so swollen I can’t even eat.”
The stale cookies that Anne always kept stocked in the carriage proved utterly useless.
Celia let the tasteless cookie fall from her fingers. Her mouth was parched, and every time she forced herself to chew, her swollen, torn gums throbbed with such agony that it was almost unbearable.
Of course, it had only been days since the accident, so there was no real reason to despair just yet.
“Sigh.”
Perhaps she should give up on the other arm too and try smashing through the window to escape.
But that hardly seemed like a viable option.
Recalling the sound of wolves howling all through last night, in a valley that was no better than a Lawless Territory, bleeding freely and unable to run—she would make an easy meal for anything that hunted in the dark.
“I’m dying of boredom.”
So instead, she watched the faint light seeping through the gaps and turned everything over in her mind.
Time moved sluggishly, but her thoughts remained a tangled mess.
“Does Lucius think I’m dead?”
And Chloe would try to fill the void she left. The mere thought made her want to grab someone and break them in half.
“That conniving woman will have plenty to say.”
She pictured Chloe whispering in Lucius’s ear while he suffered. What would she tell him? Everything about their past? Or the fact that divorce had been planned?
“Ha.”
Laughter came out despite itself.
She didn’t know why it suddenly stung to imagine Lucius knowing it all already.
“Damn it. I was planning to tell him everything myself.”
But anything she said later would only sound like an excuse.
Assuming, of course, that she lived long enough to escape this place.
“I’m exhausted.”
It was now the second day, and night was falling again.
Time had stopped flowing properly. Darkness and cold, pain and thirst all blurred together—she could no longer tell night from day.
That’s when she noticed it.
Something white and small was drifting through the broken window frame.
“…Snow?”
A single white snowflake fell softly.
“Snow, really?”
Celia liked snow.
More precisely, she liked sitting comfortably in front of a brazier burning in her study, watching through the window as snow covered the world in tragedy.
That cold, bitter thing was pretty to look at, but it destroyed old roofs and made it difficult to go anywhere.
“So that’s why it was so cold.”
Celia stared blankly at the snow drifting through the broken window frame.
You were right, Lucius Windmere.
“You said early snow would fall this year.”
And once again, I was right about something you weren’t.
“Look. Isn’t that proof enough that I’m better than you?”
But no one was there to answer. Only cold wind slipped through the carriage’s cracks, seeping beneath her shawl. Celia curled herself into a ball, trembling.
Another day passed that way.
By the fourth day, her thoughts had begun to fade. When she closed her eyes, night fell. When she blinked again, it was an overcast morning. Her mouth was so dry that even moving her tongue took effort.
“Will you come to save me?”
That was your role, after all—always appearing like a hero when needed.
Now, looking back, why had she hated him so much?
She thought about it with a dazed mind, blinking slowly.
‘Even if he was annoying, there was no reason to hate him that much…’
No, wait.
He deserved to be hated.
He really was awful. If she tried to list the humiliations he’d put her through, she could easily start with a dozen.
Even if she could go back to those moments, she would probably react the same way.
She would rage again, choose cruel words and hurl them at him.
And yet…
Celia huddled her frozen fingertips and exhaled weakly.
“If only I could see that hateful face of his one more time.”
She wanted to see him again.
Even Lucius Windmere, who didn’t love her, would be fine.
Even that arrogant bastard of a Windmere was fine, if only she could see that face once more…
“Sigh.”
Her mind was slipping away.
Snow was pressing down on the carriage with increasing weight. White and indifferent, it drew closer as if to choke her breath away.
‘Damn. I hope no one has to watch me die like this.’
But against her will, the strength holding her body upright ebbed away. Her head fell slowly forward, her chin settling against her chest, and her breath scattered across the snow like thin mist.
What would happen if she really died like this?
And that was the moment.
Crack—something shattered, tearing through the darkness.
Light poured through the opening. Or rather, between the falling snow fine enough to blur her vision, someone’s hand appeared, their shoulder, blonde hair wet with blood and earth and snow.
“Celia.”
A man tore open the door as if ripping a wound.
Celia had no trouble recognizing him.
He was not the composed nobleman she knew. His gloves were torn and bloodstained, his sleeves and trousers caked in mud. His blonde hair was soaked with snow and matted messily against his forehead, and his breathing was rough enough to cut through the winter air.
And yet, she knew exactly who he was.
Lucius.
He tore away the carriage door and dragged himself forward on an injured leg, pulling her into his arms.
“I’m sorry. I came too late.”
Why did he always apologize for things that weren’t his fault?
But if he knew she’d been waiting for this moment, what expression would he wear?
“It hurt.”
His embrace wrapped around her completely. Her eyelids, which had barely stayed open, suddenly grew unbearably heavy. In that warmth, Celia slowly closed her eyes. Tenderness bit into her skin like cold.
“Celia!!”
Painful and warm and—
Desperately reassuring.
***
It had been two weeks since her rescue from the Cliff.
At last, Celia received a clean bill of health from the physician.
“No problems whatsoever. But do take your medicine for a few more days, and let’s monitor the wound on your cheek to prevent scarring.”
“Yes.”
Celia gave a perfunctory response, and the moment the physician withdrew, she turned her head.
She met the eyes of the man who’d been listening to the physician’s advice with grave attention—green eyes visible as a half-smile, he stood where he was and gathered the medicines.
“…”
That bastard, really.
He’d recovered weeks ago, yet he still looked at her like she was some fragile animal.
She wanted to poke his eyes out.
“Take your medicine and get some rest.”
Celia fussed with the blanket.
She was restless. She couldn’t go outside, and the only thing worth observing was Lucius. He’d barely left her side since that day.
But this was too much.
“Lucius.”
“Yes?”
“Come here.”
“…Just a moment. Let me finish this first.”
The beast who usually clung to her was suddenly keeping his distance.
‘I heard his leg didn’t heal that long ago either. Why is he wandering around so much?’
It wasn’t that she wanted him to cling to her, but something gnawed at her as she picked at her nail.
“Lu.”
Cough.
Lucius looked up as if he’d choked on his water. Celia, keeping her face neutral, propped herself up on her elbows.
“Actually, I’ve been thinking—I don’t like it.”
“What?”
“Your name. It’s too long.”
Lucius’s eyes wavered slowly.
“And?”
“I’m calling you this way specially.”
At her bold words, he flinched. Whatever distance he’d been keeping vanished in an instant, and she saw his eyes soften.
“…Okay. I like it.”
Celia stared as his cheeks flushed like watercolor.
Lucius began arranging her medicine with a lighter touch. She observed him as he showed his affection within an appropriate distance.
Broad shoulders, a straight back. And that flat stomach and narrowing hips.
“Lu.”
Celia finally bit her lip and called him again.
“Will you come here?”
“…”
“I’m cold.”
“I’ll light the—”
“Not that.”
Celia silently complained about what on earth she was doing.
It had been days since they’d escaped the Cliff. She was suffering from a thirst she couldn’t name. It seemed to stem entirely from Lucius.
In any form, tasting him would surely satisfy this hunger.
Sitting up on the bed, she slowly pulled back the thick blanket, revealing the thin nightgown pulled up to her thighs. From beneath the covers—warm with a pleasant scent and her own heat—Celia enticed him.
“Come and hold me.”
She didn’t see what expression crossed Lucius’s face then, but she did notice the blood vessels bulging across the back of his hand as he held the cup.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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