Chapter 1: I Was Told to Give Up My Daughter’s Room
“Noelia.
I will be having Lilia recuperate in this mansion.
Please vacate your room and Lucy’s.”
My husband, Marquis Gilbert Leivelt, said that at the breakfast table.
Pale winter sunlight streamed into the dining hall.
At the end of the long table sat warmed milk, white bread, and a softly stewed vegetable soup.
My three-year-old daughter Lucy sat beside me with her tiny hands resting on her lap, still looking sleepy.
For a moment, I thought I had misheard him.
“…Which room are you referring to?”
“The recuperation room in the south wing.”
Gilbert answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
The recuperation room in the south wing.
It was the sunniest room in the mansion.
Heat-retaining stones had been embedded inside the walls, the fireplace flue had been renovated, and thick double-paned glass had been installed in the windows.
Every bit of it had been paid for with my dowry.
After Lucy developed a high fever during the winter when she was two and struggled to breathe in the guest room of the north wing, I had the room made so that such a thing would never happen again.
“That is Lucy’s room.
Cold is the worst thing for her condition.”
“I know.
But cold is also bad for Lilia’s health.”
The woman seated beside Gilbert pressed a pale finger to her chest.
Lilia Orsene.
A baron’s daughter and my husband’s childhood friend, a woman I had always been told was frail and sickly.
Her pale blonde hair was loosely tied back, and her light blue eyes were cast downward.
She certainly possessed the kind of fragility that made people want to protect her.
“Lady Noelia, I’m so sorry.
This is all because of me…”
Lilia spoke in a voice that sounded ready to break into tears at any moment.
And yet, Gilbert’s coat was draped over her chair.
The wool blanket I had prepared for Lucy rested over her knees.
Before I could say anything, Gilbert spoke again.
“Lilia is exhausted from the long journey.
Even the physician from the royal capital said she should rest in a warm room for a while.
Surely you understand.”
“Then we can renovate one of the guest rooms.”
“That would take time.”
“If we replace the magic stone in the fireplace, the room can at least be made usable by today.
I do not mind paying for the expenses from my dowry account.”
“That is not the issue.”
Gilbert frowned irritably.
“Lilia needs to rest immediately.
You and Lucy can move to the guest room in the north wing.
Children adapt to new environments quickly, don’t they?”
Lucy tightly gripped the sleeve of my dress.
Her little fingers were trembling.
She was still too young to understand complicated conversations.
But children are sensitive to the coldness in adults’ voices.
She must have understood at least that her room was being taken away.
“The guest room in the north wing is the room where Lucy had an attack two years ago.”
“You are exaggerating.”
“I am not exaggerating.
That night, Lucy could barely breathe.
The physician stayed by her side until dawn before her fever finally broke.”
“That is exactly why you should stay with her.
You are her mother, aren’t you?”
Those words made something inside my chest grow cold.
Because you are the mother, endure it.
Because you are the mother, figure something out.
Because you are the mother, move your daughter into a freezing room and care for your husband’s sickly childhood friend as well.
Gilbert said all of it without the slightest hesitation.
“I would also like you to take care of Lilia.”
“You want me to?”
“You are skilled with warming magic, are you not?
It may not be flashy healing magic, but it is useful in situations like this.
As my wife, it is only natural for you to care for a guest of the marquis house.”
As his wife.
I slowly repeated those words in my mind.
We had been married for four years.
Yet my husband had rarely treated me as his wife.
He kept his distance from me at social gatherings, forgot my birthdays, and even on the night our daughter had a fever, he returned to his bedroom saying, “I have an early meeting tomorrow.”
Even so, I endured it.
It was a political marriage.
I should not destroy the household for Lucy’s sake.
Even if my husband did not love me, our daughter still needed a father.
That was what I kept telling myself.
But taking away my daughter’s room was different.
“Mother…”
Lucy called softly.
When I turned toward her, she looked up at me with trembling lips.
“Is Lucy’s room gonna disappear?”
At that moment, something snapped deep inside my head.
White fluorescent lights.
The smell of paper.
Heavy eyelids after a night shift.
A single novel I had read in the corner of a break room.
Memories from my previous life flooded back with burning intensity.
I had once been a nursery teacher in Japan.
I worked night shifts and had spent countless mornings holding feverish children in my arms until sunrise.
I ignored my own health until one day I collapsed and never woke again.
And I knew this world.
It was the setting of a romance novel I had read in my previous life.
The Marquis’s Wife of the Winter Rose.
The protagonist was Noelia Leivelt.
A marchioness who continued loving her cold husband despite his neglect.
She devoted herself to caring for her husband’s childhood friend, Lilia, and even gave up her daughter Lucy’s room.
As a result, Lucy caught a high fever in the freezing guest room of the north wing.
While Noelia was busy nursing Lilia, her daughter died alone.
Only after Lucy’s death did Gilbert finally realize Noelia’s pain.
He regretted everything, became obsessively devoted to his wife, and the story moved toward a tearful reconciliation.
In the end, the couple’s love was restored.
In my previous life, that development had made me cry.
Now, I could not cry at all.
What a joke.
If love could only begin after my daughter died, then I wanted no part of it.
“Mother?”
Lucy called for me again.
I wrapped my hand around hers.
Small and warm.
She was still alive.
Still here with me.
“It won’t disappear.”
I spoke quietly.
“Wherever you are will become Mother’s room too.”
Lucy blinked repeatedly, perhaps not understanding what I meant.
Gilbert looked at me with displeasure.
“Noelia.
Stop acting emotionally in front of the child.”
“I am not acting emotionally.”
“Then it is settled.
Move Lucy’s belongings to the north wing by today.
I want Lilia resting there by this afternoon.”
“Understood.”
The moment I nodded, Gilbert’s expression relaxed slightly.
He probably thought I had yielded again, as always.
Lilia also let out a relieved sigh.
I lifted Lucy into my arms.
She was light for a three-year-old.
Too light.
The weight of her small body settled my resolve.
“Then let us divorce.”
The atmosphere in the dining hall froze.
The servants stopped moving.
Lilia’s eyes widened.
Gilbert fell silent, as if unable to comprehend what I had just said.
“…What did you say?”
“Lady Lilia may use the room in the south wing as she pleases.
I will take Lucy and leave this mansion.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“No.
I am evacuating.”
“You think the wife of a marquis house can act as she pleases?”
“As long as I remain the wife of this house, I will be told to prioritize my husband’s childhood friend over my daughter’s life.
If that is the case, then I will stop being your wife.”
Lucy clung tightly around my neck.
I gently stroked her back.
Such a thin little back.
I needed to feed her more, let her sleep more, make her smile more.
There were things far more important than whether my husband loved me or not.
“Gilbert.”
I looked straight at my husband.
“Please cherish Lady Lilia as much as you like.
I will cherish my daughter.”