The Mistress Runs Away

n into a deep sleep.
The hand that had tried to shake her shoulders stopped in midair.
Instead, Killian pulled the blanket, which had fallen to her waist, up over her shoulders.
At that moment, Rowena, who was sleeping quietly, turned toward him.

“Umm….”

“…….”

She didn’t wake up.
Her tense breathing lingered for several moments.

Killian, who hadn’t even taken off his coat, went straight to sit on the sofa that was placed beside the bed.
He slowly took off his gloves and reached out with his right hand to touch her silky blond hair, the feeling of her curly hair clinging to his fingers was as soft as sheets.

He slowly bowed down and gazed at her sleeping face that resembled a porcelain doll.

Just as he was about to place his lips on her forehead, Rowena, who was lying on her side, turned and lay on her back.
Her forehead was now facing the ceiling.
Barely brushing against her forehead, without making a sound, Killian pulled away and swept off the strands covering her face.

As he turned around and headed for the door to the next room, he heard a faint voice.
Killian stopped turning the doorknob and turned around.
The muffled, faint voice sounded much clearer this time.

“Please don’t go… Please don’t go, mother… father… Please….”

Killian, who had been standing there, turned around and walked toward the bed.

He sat down on the bed and placed his hands on her warm eyes.
Rowena, sensing the cool touch, grabbed his hand with both of hers.

Desperately, as if she were clinging to the last straw, she scratched the back of his hand with her fingernails.

“Father… mother…”

Like a person who fell into the water and grabbed the hand of salvation, Rowena applied more pressure to her fingertips.
Killian’s brows furrowed slightly in pain.
The nail marks on the back of his hand were deep to the point where droplets of blood began to appear.

His cold hands lingered on the hot snow for a long time until the gasping groans turned into calm breathing.