He paused, letting the story hang in the air. “It is a story of patience, of trust, and of love that is tested but not broken. Of a union that is built through understanding, devotion, and enduring trials… yet finds its way to a happy end.”
Dorothy listened, utterly still, her gaze fixed somewhere between him and the floor. “This is the first story you’ve ever told me that has a happy ending,” she murmured, her voice soft, almost awed.
Magnus’s eyes softened, and in a tone that made her feel as though every syllable was meant only for her, he said, “I want us to have a happy ending, Dorothy.”
Her curiosity, previously shadowed by fear and frustration, was instantly piqued. She leaned a little closer, her attention fully captured by the warmth in his eyes and the earnestness in his words.
He reached for her hand, but this time she did not pull away. “I did not mean to hurt you,” he said. “This is all my fault. There are times I do not even realize when I become… the monster that I sometimes fear I am. But these days, I try to believe thatI am not a bad man. Not the man society has coined me to be. I have never killed anyone. I do not make men weep... at least, not intentionally.”
He gave a small, rueful smile, and she felt a tiny laugh escape her. “Though I can be stern and perhaps… impossible,” he continued, his eyes never leaving hers. “All that is just a guard I have built for myself, a wall to keep the world at bay. I am so sorry that you got hurt. It is my fault.”
Dorothy’s heart swelled with a mix of sadness and longing, feeling the vulnerability in him, the honesty that was so rarely seen. For the first time, the impossible man she had married seemed achingly human, achingly near, and achingly hers.
She noticed the subtle tremor in his hands despite the firm, composed expression he wore, and it made her chest ache. “It’s only a headache,” she said softly, pressing a hand to his. “I just have to be careful because I hit my head, but I’ll be all right.”
Magnus did not relax, not even slightly. His jaw tightened, his eyes dark with fear. Dorothy, sensing the tension radiating from him, drew him closer, wrapping her arms around him in a hug that was both gentle and grounding.
At last, he allowed himself to return the embrace, his hands gripping her as though she were the only tether keeping him from unravelling. “I fear I will lose you, Dorothy. I could never bear the thought, and it would be my fault.”
She shook her head against his chest, holding him tighter. “No, it’s not your fault,” she said firmly, letting the words wrap around him as a shield, softening the storm within him, if only for a moment.
Dorothy let her hands linger in his as their hug loosened, and when Magnus drew back just enough to take her hand fully into his, she felt the intensity of his gaze settle on her. “I believe I owe you my secret,” he said, and Dorothy felt her breath catch. “The last time, it was you who shared your heart with me. I must let you understand why I reacted so badly to the painting that day and why I cannot bear for you to be more than what you already are in my life.”
He took a shallow breath, as if unspooling a weight he had carried for far too long. “My sister and I were never close, not truly,” he began, his voice low. “I was always busy, my days consumed with commerce, with learning to manage what my father demanded of me. I did not have the time, nor perhaps the inclination, to see her as much as I should have.” His eyes darkened with memory. “She was forced to marry a man far older than herself by our father, simply because she refused to marry. Then she had Eugenia. One day, out of the blue, she sent word that I should come to visit her. I was thrilled. Excited, even. After all those years, I would finally spend time with her and see my niece for the first time. I did not know, not then, the shadow she had become. Her husband, Eugenia’s father, had met a tragic end only a few months prior. A carriage accident.”
He paused, swallowing hard. “When I arrived, she sat by the window, in the highest room of the house. She looked… broken, a pale, fragile echo of the sister I had known. She told me thenthat Eugenia was mine now. That I should take care of her. I could not… fully grasp what she meant, but I carried her words with me.” Magnus’s voice shook slightly, a tremor that betrayed the pain he kept behind his composure. “Then she jumped from that window. Eugenia was only four years old when we witnessed it, and I could not stop it. I could not save her. I was holding Eugenia.”
Dorothy’s hand tightened slightly in his. “Is that the reason you do not like Eugenia on the upper floors of the manor?” she asked softly, careful but curious.
He nodded, the muscles in his jaw tightening. “Yes,” he admitted, voice low and rough. “My sister had habits… self-harming habits. She would bite her lips until they bled, clench her fists so tightly her fingers cut into her own skin.” He paused. “The day she… died, I saw it. Her lips, her hands… scarred. So when I see you bite your lips like you are fond of doing, it triggers something in me. I’m sorry if you found it frustrating that I stopped you from doing that.”
He let go of her hand for a brief second to grip both of her wrists, keeping her attention on him. “I have always blamed myself for failing my sister, for not protecting her from our father. Eugenia became my world because I vowed to repay that debt. That is why I cannot bear to see you hurt, Dorothy. I don’t want to go through that nightmare again.”
“That is why I do not want children,” he continued. “Not because I do not love the idea, but because of the process. The thought of losing you—of you hating me after giving birth or… dying in theprocess… I cannot bear it. When I heard you were hurt, I could not breathe. I would not forgive myself if I hurt you.”
Dorothy sat quietly, letting the moments stretch between them, the weight of the past weeks pressing gently on her chest. She thought of the days spent worrying about what society deemed proper, about the endless, invisible rules that had dictated her behavior, her thoughts, even her happiness. Now, confronted with Magnus and the truth of his heart, she saw how small those concerns had been, how they had distracted her from what truly mattered.
She spoke softly, almost to herself, but with enough clarity for him to hear. “I’ve spent so long worrying about what society would consider proper—what they would deem acceptable—I didn’t realize that in trying to meet their standards, I might be harming myself… harming us. I’ve… I’ve become what I used to make fun of. The people who cling so desperately to gossip, to appearances. I was never a fan of them. I see now how foolish I’ve been.”
Her voice caught slightly, and she looked at him with a tenderness that had grown from weeks of reflection. “What matters to me now, after everything, after these weeks of thinking, is that I want to be with you, Magnus. I want to be in the moment with you and with Eugenia. I want to wake and sleep beside you, to simply exist in our home together. That is what I want. Nothing else. No expectations, no pressure. Just us.”
In that quiet confession, she felt relief she hadn’t known was possible. She had set aside the world, the endless judgments, the relentless standards, and it felt good.
Magnus froze, his hand still hovering near hers, as her words sank into him. “Dorothy…” His voice was barely a whisper, trembling despite the strength he usually carried in every word. He took a slow, careful breath. “You have no idea what you’ve just done to me. To hear you say that, to hear that you want to be with me, is everything I’ve ever wanted. Everything I’ve ever feared I could never have.”
He leaned closer, finally closing the small distance between them, taking both of her hands in his again. His thumbs brushed gently over her knuckles, a tremor running through him that mirrored the tremor he felt in his heart. “You must never think you are anything like Clytie. Not in a million lifetimes. I have never known love like this before. I have never loved anyone the way I love you.”
His gaze softened, brimming with emotion, and he lowered his forehead to hers. “I don’t believe for a single moment that you love me as much as I love you. It cannot be possible. You have no idea how much of my life, how much of my soul, belongs to you. I should have said it sooner; I should have told you that you are everything to me… that I cannot bear the thought of life without you. But now I will tell you, openly, completely, without reservation, that I love you. I will spend every moment proving it, every day making sure you know it.”
He paused, breathing in the faint scent of her hair, the warmth of her hand in his. “You are my heart, Dorothy. You are my home. You are my wife. Wholly and truly. Nothing will ever change that.”
Dorothy’s breath caught as he leaned closer, his hands finding hers with a gentle insistence that left her trembling. Then, as if the world had narrowed to just the two of them, his lips met hers. It was a kiss that carried every confession, every longing, every unspoken word between them, fierce and tender all at once.
She melted into him, letting go softly, though only as much as she could because even in surrender, she wanted to feel every moment, every heartbeat pressed against hers. In that instant, the headache that had throbbed relentlessly at her temples vanished completely, leaving only a dizzy, soaring happiness that made her chest ache with delight.
Her mind stilled. Her heart leapt. For the first time in what felt like forever, she was unburdened, fully alive, fully his. Every fear, every worry, every lingering doubt of the past weeks faded beneath the warmth of his arms, the press of his lips, and the certainty that this... this love, this closeness, was exactly where she was meant to be.
She gasped softly, pulling back just enough to catch her breath, eyes shimmering with unshed tears, a laugh bubbling from her lips. “I feel so happy,” she whispered, almost to herself, almost as if afraid to break the spell.
