Forced To Marry The Heiress (GL)

Chapter 33: Wednesday

The sound of laughter and excited chatter preceded the shopping party long before they appeared through the front doors. Asteria’s voice rose above the others, light and bubbling with genuine joy.

The maids laughed along with her, their earlier nervousness completely dissolved after hours of being treated not like servants but like friends.

The grand entrance hall of the Eisenthurn mansion had never seen anything like this.

Dina came through first, her arms loaded with no fewer than eight paper bags from various high-end stores—their logos displayed proudly on the cream-colored bags. Behind her, two other maids followed with similar armfuls, their cheeks flushed from walking and laughing, their casual clothes—jeans and blouses and sundresses—a stark contrast to the formal uniforms they usually wore.

Asteria let them but whatever they want, all expensive brands and everything they wanted but all she bought was simple and not that expensive.

One of them, a young maid named Mira, was still wearing a pair of oversized sunglasses she had clearly bought during the trip, refusing to take them off even indoors.

Asteria brought up the rear, practically bouncing with each step, her arms wrapped around a single large box that she held like it contained the most precious thing in the world.

Her cardigan had slipped off one shoulder again, but she didn’t seem to notice or care. Her hair was slightly mussed from trying on different hats, and there was a smudge of something—lipstick from a tester, perhaps—on the back of her hand.

"This was the best day ever!" Asteria announced, her voice echoing through the marble hall.

The maids exchanged glances—the kind of glances that said is she always like this? and we don’t deserve her and please don’t let this be a dream all at once.

They began walking further into the house, heading toward the grand staircase where they would presumably deposit the shopping bags before returning to their duties.

The mood was light, almost giddy, the kind of happiness that comes from doing something unexpected with people you never thought you’d share a laugh with.

Then they rounded the corner into the main living room.

And everything stopped.

Keres stood in the center of the room, her arms crossed over her chest, her expression carved from the same stone that had adorned her face during the board meeting hours earlier.

She had changed out of her meeting clothes at some point—probably in her office, since she hadn’t been home—and now wore a simple black blouse tucked into tailored gray trousers. Her hair was pulled back from her face, and her eyes were fixed on the procession of shopping bags like a hawk watching field mice.

The laughter died instantly.

Mira’s sunglasses suddenly seemed less like a fashion statement and more like an attempt to hide. Dina’s shoulders tensed, her grip on the bags tightening until her knuckles went white.

The third maid—a girl who had barely spoken all day but had smiled more than she had in months—stepped back slightly, positioning herself behind the others as if hoping to disappear.

The silence was deafening.

Asteria stood frozen at the front of the group, the large box clutched to her chest like a shield. Her heart had started pounding the moment she saw Keres—not with fear exactly, but with that same tightness that always seized her throat when Keres looked at her too directly.

Keres uncrossed her arms and took a single step forward that made the maids flinched.

"I see that you all had your fun," Keres said, her voice flat and unreadable.

No one answered, no one knew if they were supposed to answer. Was that a question? A statement? An accusation? The maids exchanged desperate glances, silently pleading with each other to know what to do.

Asteria swallowed hard, her throat clearing. She could feel Keres’ gaze on her—heavy, intense, and impossible to ignore—for a moment, she considered looking down at the floor, at anything that wasn’t those gray, unreadable eyes of Keres.

But something in her that had survived bruises and blood and years of being told she didn’t matter—refused to let her look away.

Asteria raised her gaze and looked at Keres.

The room held its breath.

Keres began to move, her heels clicking against the marble floor in a slow, deliberate pace. Each step brought her closer to Asteria, and with each step, Asteria could feel the tension in the room winding tighter and tighter, like a piano wire being stretched to its breaking point.

Keres stopped when she was close enough to tower over her wife. Close enough that Asteria could smell her perfume—something dark and expensive, sandalwood and smoke and a hint of something floral hiding underneath.

Close enough that Asteria could see the faint shadows under Keres’ eyes, the evidence of too much work and too little sleep.

Asteria’s throat tightened even more. Her lungs felt compressed, like something was pressing against her chest. But she held Keres’ gaze, refusing to be the first to blink.

"Mmm~"

The sound escaped Asteria before she could stop it—a soft, affirmative hum that was more instinct than intention. It wasn’t a word, not really. It was just acknowledgment.

Keres blinked.

And then, so quickly that Asteria almost missed it, color flooded Keres’ cheeks.

It was subtle—just the faintest hint of pink spreading across her cheekbones, barely visible in the afternoon light filtering through the windows. But Asteria saw it. She was close enough to see everything.

Keres’ expression faltered for just a moment, her stoic mask cracking to reveal something underneath—something that looked almost like embarrassment, or maybe confusion, or maybe both.

Shit, Keres thought, her heart doing something strange and unfamiliar in her chest. "She’s looking at me. Why is she looking at me like that? Why is she humming at me? What does the hum mean?"

Aloud, she said nothing. She simply stood there, towering over Asteria, waiting.

Asteria’s lips curved upward—slowly at first, tentatively, like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to smile. But then the smile grew, spreading across her face like sunrise, warming everything it touched.

"I bought the things I... I like," Asteria said, her voice was soft and a little unsteady. The stutter made her sound younger, more vulnerable, and something about that vulnerability made Keres’ heart clench in a way she didn’t understand.

"Shit. She’s smiling. Is she smiling because of me?! Why the fuck does my heart beat so fast like I ran an entire fucking marathon? Did I run a marathon? No, I’ve been in meetings all day. Why does my chest hurt? Is this a heart attack? Am I having a heart attack?"

Keres’ face faltered slightly—just a flicker of uncertainty there and gone so fast that most people would have missed it. But Asteria didn’t miss it. She saw the way Keres’ composure wavered, and something about that made her smile even wider.

Keres needed to say something. Anything. The silence was stretching too long, becoming awkward, and if she didn’t speak soon, everyone in the room would know that something was wrong with her.

"T-Then..." Keres cleared her throat, forcing her voice into something resembling confidence. "Then show me."

She almost didn’t recognize her own voice. There was a roughness to it, an unsteadiness that she couldn’t hide. But she managed to keep her tone firm enough, commanding enough, that hopefully no one would notice the slight tremor underneath.

Asteria’s entire face lit up.

It was like watching the sun break through clouds—sudden and transformative and almost painfully bright. Her eyes widened, her smile grew, and she immediately began shifting the large box in her arms, fumbling with the lid.

"Yes! Okay! Look!"

She set the box down on the nearest table—a delicate antique that probably cost more than most people’s houses—and threw open the lid with the enthusiasm of a child on Christmas morning.

The maids gathered closer, their earlier fear forgotten in the face of Asteria’s excitement, and even Keres found herself leaning forward slightly to see what was inside.

"Let’s see what kind of jewelry she bought," Keres thought, imagining diamonds and gold, the kinds of things that held value, that could be sold or traded or worn as armor against the world. "She probably bought something expensive. Something stupid. Something—"

Asteria pulled out her purchases.

And Keres froze.

Her eyes darted from the box to Asteria’s face and back again, certain that she must be seeing incorrectly. She blinked once. Twice. The objects in the box did not change.

"Painting materials?"

The words came out flat, disbelieving, stripped of all inflection. Keres stared at the contents of the box—brushes of various sizes, tubes of paint in every color imaginable, canvases stacked neatly, a wooden palette, a set of charcoal pencils, a book about techniques—and felt something in her brain short-circuit.

Asteria’s expression shifted immediately. The joy drained from her face, replaced by guilt and fear and something that looked like shame. Her shoulders hunched forward, making herself smaller, and she began pulling items out of the box with trembling hands.

"F-full set," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The salesperson said... Said it was good quality."

She kept pulling things out, arranging them on the antique table with shaking fingers, as if the sheer volume of items might somehow justify her purchase. Brushes. Paints. A small easel that folded up for storage. A set of instructional DVDs that the salesperson had thrown in for free because Asteria had looked so lost and hopeful.

"And..." Asteria’s voice cracked. "Here is the receipt."

She pulled a long strip of paper from the bottom of the box and held it out to Keres with both hands, her head bowed, her eyes squeezed shut. She was waiting for the explosion. Waiting for the yelling. Waiting for Keres to throw the receipt in her face and demand to know why she had wasted money on something so useless, so impractical, and so stupid.

The maids had gone completely still behind her. Dina looked like she wanted to step forward and protect Asteria but didn’t know if she was allowed. Mira had finally taken off her sunglasses and her eyes widened with fear.

Keres looked at the receipt. She looked at the painting materials.

She looked at Asteria—at the way her wife was trembling, at the way she had made herself small, at the way she was clearly bracing for impact.

And something in Keres’ chest cracked open.

"Is this all?"

Asteria’s head snapped up. "H-Huh?"

Keres’ voice was softer now, almost gentle—though she would deny it if anyone ever asked. "You only spent a few thousand dollars." She gestured at the painting supplies, at the other bags from various stores, ad at the evidence of a shopping spree that had barely made a dent in her credit limit. "I thought you’d buy some jewelry. A watch. A car, maybe. Something ridiculous."

She paused, looking at the paint tubes again—at the bright colors, the evidence that Asteria had bought something for herself rather than for the appearance of wealth.

"But whatever you like."

Keres turned away abruptly, unable to look at Asteria’s face for another second. Her heart was doing that strange pounding thing again, and her face felt warm, she needed to leave before she said or did something that would embarrass them both.

"I’ll go back to my office now," she said, not looking back. "Bye."

The word hung in the air—bye—so casual, so normal, so utterly unlike anything Keres Eisenthurn had ever said to anyone in her entire life.

She walked toward the front door with quick, purposeful strides, her heels clicking against the marble. She could feel eyes on her back—Asteria’s eyes, the maids’ eyes—and she resisted the urge to look over her shoulder.

She rush to the front door, and practically threw herself into the back seat of the waiting car.

"Drive," she told the driver and her voice almost puked.

The car pulled away from the mansion, and Keres pressed her forehead against the cool window, watching her house disappear in the side mirror.

"What the fuck was that?" She thought. "Why did I say bye? Who says bye? I’m Keres Eisenthurn. I don’t say bye. I say "leave" or "get out" or "I’m done with you." I don’t say bye."

She closed her eyes and saw Asteria’s face—the way it had lit up when she was showing the painting supplies, the way it had crumpled when she thought Keres was angry, or the way she had held out the receipt like an offering.

"She bought painting supplies," Keres thought. "Not diamonds. Not a car. Not anything that would impress anyone. She bought something she wanted. Something for herself. Something that has nothing to do with me or my money or this marriage."

The thought made her chest ache. She didn’t know why.

Back in the mansion, the silence lingered long after the front door closed behind Keres.

The maids stood frozen, still holding their armfuls of shopping bags, still processing what they had just witnessed. Dina’s mouth was slightly open.

Mira had her sunglasses back on, as if they could shield her from the confusion of the moment.

Dina was the first to speak.

"What’s wrong with the young master?" she asked, her voice full of genuine bewilderment. "She... She didn’t yell. She didn’t throw anything. She just... Left."

"Did she say bye?" Mira asked, pushing her sunglasses up her nose. "Did the young master just say bye to us?"

"She said it to Madam," Another maid corrected quietly. "But still. Bye." freewёbnoνel.com

The maids murmured among themselves, their voices low and confused, like a flock of birds trying to make sense of a sudden change in the wind. None of them had ever seen Keres behave that way. None of them had ever heard her sound so... Uncertain.

Asteria shrugged her shoulders, still staring at the door where Keres had disappeared. Her heart was still pounding, but the fear had faded, replaced by something she couldn’t name. "I have no idea," she said softly. "I also found her behavior strange today."

She looked down at the painting supplies spread across the antique table—at the brushes,bpaints, canvases, and high-quality pencils, at the receipt that Keres hadn’t thrown back in her face, at the evidence that her wife had not, in fact, been angry about what she bought.

She said "whatever you like," Asteria thought. She said I should buy more.

The thought made her stomach flutter.

She didn’t know why.

~~~•••~~~

Wednesday

The morning light filtered through the bedroom curtains, but this time, there was no warmth to accompany it.

Asteria woke alone.

She had grown accustomed to the cold sheets on Keres’ side of the bed over the past few weeks, but somehow, this morning felt different.

The silence in the room was heavier, the shadows deeper, and the absence more profound. She reached out and touched the empty pillow—still smooth, still unwrinkled, still bearing no evidence that anyone had slept there the night before.

Keres hadn’t come home.

Asteria lay in bed for a long moment, staring at the ceiling, listening to the distant sounds of the house waking up around her. Maids moving through hallways, the soft whir of the automated curtains opening to let in the gray Wednesday light.

She sat up slowly, her body aching in ways that had become familiar. The bruises had faded to sickly yellows and greens, but new ones had appeared in their place—mottled patches on her ribs, her arms, her thighs. She didn’t remember getting them. She never remembered.

She showered quickly, avoiding her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She didn’t need to see the evidence of her body’s betrayal. She could feel it well enough.

When she emerged from the bathroom, she chose her clothes carefully—an elegant dress in pale lavender, long-sleeved to cover her arms, high-necked to hide the bruises on her collarbone.

She brushed her hair until it shone, pinned it back from her face with a simple clip, and applied a touch of color to her cheeks so she wouldn’t look so pale.

By the time she descended the grand staircase, she looked every bit the part of the lady of the manor.

The maids were already gathered in the living room, arranging the shopping bags from yesterday, folding clothes, organizing the painting supplies that Asteria had left spread across the antique table. They looked up when they heard her footsteps, and their faces broke into smiles.

"Good morning, madam!" They chorused, their voices bright and eager.

Asteria’s heart warmed at the sight of them. These women—these kind, patient women who had followed her around a mall for hours without complaint, who had let her buy them things they would never have bought for themselves, who had laughed with her like they were friends instead of servants—they had become something precious to her in a very short amount of time.

"Good morning." Asteria approached them, her shoes was soft against the marble floor. "Did you all have a nice sleep?"

"Yes! We did!" Dina answered eagerly, bouncing slightly on her heels. "I dreamt about the blue dress. I wore it to a party and everyone said I looked like a princess."

"That’s because you do look like a princess," Asteria said warmly, and Dina’s face turned pink.

The easy atmosphere helped loosen the tightness in Asteria’s chest. She looked around the room, at the evidence of yesterday’s joy, at the faces of people who didn’t look at her with pity or fear or contempt.

Then she remembered.

"Keres didn’t come home last night," Asteria said, her voice carefully casual, as if she were commenting on the weather. She watched the maids’ faces for any reaction. "Is this a normal occurrence?"

The maids exchanged glances, and Dina nodded slowly. "Ah, yes, madam. The young master is always so busy with her work that she will sleep in her office sometimes. Especially when there are important meetings or deadlines." She paused, chewing on her lower lip.

"It happens maybe once or twice a week. Sometimes more."

Asteria’s frown deepened, and she let out a soft sigh. "It sounds like she’s being too hard on herself."

The words came out before she could stop them, and she immediately felt her throat tighten. She knew better than to comment on Keres’ habits.

She knew better than to care because the last time she had expressed concern about anything related to Keres, she had been met with cold silence and sharper words.

But she couldn’t help it. The image of Keres sleeping in her office—alone, probably still in her clothes, probably too exhausted to drive home—made something in Asteria’s chest ache.

"Keres doesn’t like it when others meddle in her business," Asteria reminded herself. She made that very clear.

The memory surfaced unbidden—Keres’ cold voice, her dismissive wave, her words like ice picks: Don’t concern yourself with my affairs.

Asteria’s throat tightened even more at the memory. Her chest felt compressed, like an invisible hand was squeezing her lungs. She tried to breathe through it, tried to push the feeling down, but it only grew stronger.

And then she coughed.

It started small—just a quick, sharp sound that she managed to muffle with her hand. But the cough deepened, rattling something in her chest, and before she knew it, she was coughing in earnest, her body bending forward with the force of it.

Dina’s eyes went wide. "Madam? Are you okay?"

The other maids stepped closer, their faces creased with concern. Mira reached out as if to steady Asteria, and the other maids hurried to fetch water from the kitchen.

Asteria coughed again, and this time, she felt something warm and wet against her palm. She didn’t need to look to know what it was. She had seen it too many times before.

She balled her hand into a fist quickly, hiding the evidence, and forced herself to stand up straight. Her smile was strained, her voice barely steady.

"Nothing," she said, not turning around because she was afraid they would see the truth in her face. "I feel tired. I should probably go back to my room."

She could feel their eyes on her back—confused, worried, searching for answers she couldn’t give them. Dina’s voice was soft when she responded. "O-Okay, madam. Should we bring you breakfast? Some tea? Anything?"

"No," Asteria said, already moving toward the stairs. "No, thank you. I just need to rest."

She climbed the stairs slowly and carefully, each step was an effort. Her hand was still balled into a fist, her palm wet and sticky, and she didn’t dare uncurl her fingers until she was safely inside her bedroom with the door locked behind her. freewebnovel.cσ๓

When she finally opened her hand, the blood was there—bright red against her pale skin, stark and undeniable.

Asteria stared at it for a long moment, her breathing was shallow and her heart was pounding. Then she walked to the bathroom and washed her hands, watching the water turn pink as the blood swirled down the drain.

She looked at her reflection in the mirror—at her too-pale face, at the shadows under her eyes, at the way her lavender dress hung slightly looser on her frame than it had a month ago.

She already knew what was wrong with her.

She had known for a while.

The doctors had told her two years ago. Severe untreated pneumonia.

She had stopped the treatments, not because she wanted to die, but because she didn’t see the point and she was afraid her father would beat her nonstop again.

What was she fighting for? A life of loneliness? A marriage to someone who hated her? A future that held nothing but more pain? Family that hated her, or even past husbands that treated her nothing but a cumdump?

But now, standing in the bathroom of the Eisenthurn mansion, Asteria found herself wondering.

What if I wanted to live?

The thought surprised her so much that she had to sit down on the edge of the bathtub, her legs suddenly becoming weak.

What if I wanted to paint? What if I wanted to see Dina in her blue dress? What if I wanted to hear the maids laugh again? What if I wanted to feel the sun on my face and the brush in my hand and... And maybe even...

She couldn’t finish the thought. Didn’t dare.

But the image of Keres’ face from yesterday—the way her cheeks had flushed, the way her voice had softened, the way she had said whatever you like—floated through Asteria’s mind.

"What if I wanted to live?"

Asteria closed her eyes and pressed her clean hand against her chest, feeling her heart beat beneath her ribs. Still beating. Still fighting.

"Maybe," she thought, "I should start fighting too."