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Afrosa timidly took him in. His skin, rich with a masculine scent, was smooth and supple. She gazed at him with a dazed expression before gently brushing her nose against him.
“Haa…”
A low groan escaped his lips. Afrosa, gathering her courage, took more of him. Alec’s face twisted with a mix of longing and tension as he felt her. Gently, he stroked her head, his fingers combing through her flaxen hair, which felt dreamlike in its beauty. Seeing her determination despite her discomfort, he pulled her away and gently laid her back down.
“You might hurt your mouth.”
As she tried to insist she could continue, he calmed her, lifting her legs over his shoulders. Slowly, he pushed himself into her warm, damp depths. Afrosa’s breath hitched as she looked up at him, her insides tightening at even the smallest intrusion.
“Hng… Ahhh…”
“Should I stop?”
He looked down at her trembling form, his voice filled with concern.
“No. No… go deeper,” she whispered, her half-lidded eyes gleaming with desire.
The fragile thread of restraint he clung to snapped. Carefully, he pressed in deeper, filling her completely. A sharp cry burst from her lips, but Alek couldn’t hear anything except the symphony of her being. Her body, her sweet gasps, the intoxicating cries she released—all of it consumed him entirely.
Lowering himself, he nipped at her chest before moving his hips. Afrosa’s delicate, pale arms encircled him as if cradling a child’s head, soft and gentle.
“Aah! Alec!”
Her cry of his name echoed through the cabin as he moved with a fervent intensity, their passion consuming them both.
The woman, her hands tangled in his hair, sobbed loudly as she stroked his broad back and shoulders. Alec reveled in her as if this were their last night together. He kissed her endlessly, sucking gently at her delicate neck. Afrosa, who had initially tried to match his rhythm, eventually gave in, swaying helplessly in time with his movements. She placed her hands on his strong chest, letting out kitten-like cries. Alec cupped her chest with his large hands, her soft form crushed against his long arms, causing her to whimper in surrender.
Their passionate union stretched late into the evening before it finally ended. Tears streamed down Afrosa’s face as she gazed at his damp, weary eyes. He looked unusually fatigued. It made sense, given the depth and duration of their lovemaking, yet this was a man who rarely showed signs of exhaustion after one or two rounds. In fact, he often claimed that even five or six times left him feeling refreshed, not drained, as he covered her with kisses. But now…
“Nothing happened while I was away, right?”
She asked, watching her husband, who seemed unable to close his eyes. Alec said nothing, instead lifting her hand to kiss it. His lips, soft and warm against her smooth nails, were so endearing. As Afrosa burrowed into his chest with an anxious expression, Alec wrapped his arms around her again, this time with overwhelming force. His strength was almost frightening, but she didn’t mind. She wanted to hold him even tighter, as if she didn’t care if her bones broke. She longed to be entwined with him forever, like a tree merging with another in an inseparable embrace.
“Tell me you love me, Afrosa.”
“I love you, Alec.”
“Forever…”
“Forever,” she echoed softly, like a sigh.
His lips brushed her forehead, and Afrosa closed her eyes, watching the tears that slid down his cheeks. She had no idea how to comfort him.
The next morning, Afrosa awoke with a clearer, lighter head. Earlier, at dawn, Alec had woken in a fit of restless anxiety. In the pre-dawn darkness, he instinctively reached out for his wife. Exhausted from the night’s passion, she slept soundly beside him, her breaths soft and steady.
As his tension eased, he felt tears threatening again, along with a suffocating dread. Desperate for comfort, he clung to her like a child, burying himself in her chest. Without waking fully, Afrosa instinctively cradled his head, gently exhaling soothingly, shhh, shhh.
In that moment, Alec could see Afrosa as the nurturing mother of their child, Loras. Her calming presence, tender and grounding, was all he needed.
Holding his broken son in his arms and weeping wife in his embrace—a memory of his failure to protect them. It wasn’t just a nightmare; it was real. If so, what is this now? What is happening? Why have Afrosa and he suddenly become younger? Even more, Afrosa seemed not to remember any of it. She loved him as though she had never experienced that life.
“Afrosa…”
He quietly called out to his wife, who was nestled under the blankets, sound asleep. Her lashes trembled, and her brows furrowed slightly. Her peaceful, childlike breathing tugged at his lips into a smile. Leaning closer, he warmly embraced her as if to consume her. His lips pressed gently between her furrowed brows.
“I love you.”
His eyes grew hot, and he fought to keep his expression from twisting. A heat radiated from deep within, making his nose tingle. He gently caressed the closed lids of his sleeping wife, so overcome by her sweetness and beauty that it brought him fear. Her loveliness at this moment felt overwhelming, nearly unbearable. He swallowed the rising tide of emotion and held his breath.
As his hand brushed her eyelids, they fluttered, and Aphrosa opened her eyes. The sunlight reflecting in them glimmered a pale blue. Alec tenderly stroked her smooth, egg-like skin and brushed her hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. Her flaxen hair slid through his fingers like silk, dazzling him. He stared at the morning light glinting on her long lashes, then softly asked,
“Did you sleep well?”
“…Shall we go see Father?”
The doll-like woman’s lips moved faintly as she spoke. Alec silently regarded her, intoxicated by the scent of wildflowers lingering in her tousled hair and on her neck. Stroking her round shoulders, he nodded.
“Get up. You need to see a doctor.”
Afrosa sat up with a determined expression. Alec gently steadied her as she staggered, her resolve making it impossible to dismiss her concerns. If he delayed any further, she might burst into tears and stamp her feet.
In the end, he relented, putting on his shirt. Afrosa’s father, Father Dallas, was the only priest in their village of Laurent. Before the elderly physician, Mr. Thames, arrived, Dallas had also taken on the role of the village healer. Beyond that, he was also a teacher, a judge, and a trusted figure in the community. As the sole educated and wise man in this remote village, far from the lord’s central estate, he naturally became one of its leaders alongside the village chief. Alec deeply respected and trusted him.
“I’m fine, Rose,” he reassured her.
“No, you’re not,” she replied firmly.
“Really, I—”
“What day is it today?”
“…What?”
While Alec dressed in his shirt and trousers, Afrosa washed her face with cold water and slipped into a tunic. She then spun around sharply, her gaze piercing enough to make Alec stumble over his words. Without saying, “I told you so!” she pressed her lips together tightly, grabbed his wrist, and led him out. Alec glanced down at the small hand gripping his wrist.
Her hand was small, soft, warm, and pale.
Stepping outside the cabin, Alec turned back to look at their home. Built under a white birch tree with a roof made of oak wood, the house was a cozy cabin he had constructed entirely on his own. No one had helped—this home was made with his own hands and strength, a nest built from scratch for their new life together.
Their cabin stood near the edge of the forest, away from the village and the frequent paths of others. It was surrounded by tall birch trees and a small stream. Across the stream was a sprawling forest once known as the Knight’s Grove. Long ago, before the first emperor had founded the empire, it was said to be his place of seclusion. Though it now had no connection to the imperial family, it remained a once-revered and sacred location.
Alec’s gaze lingered on the sweet olive tree he had planted in front of the cabin. The flower beds were filled only with the trees and plants Afrosa loved most. He had selected the prettiest stones to pave the ground and planted fragrant silver and golden osmanthus trees side by side to create a charming garden. Their home was surrounded by wild plum trees, alder, and fuchsia flowers, earning it the reputation as the most beautiful newlywed home in the village.
He looked at the small plot of land in the front yard, where Afrosa had planted turnips and pumpkins the previous spring. This garden was her favorite spot. Beside a wild plum tree, she also kept a few hens and ducks, using their eggs and the vegetables she grew to share with the villagers.
The villagers often said, unanimously, that the priest’s beautiful daughter was as kind as an angel. Alec couldn’t have cared less what others thought. Even if his wife skipped a meal or two because of her generosity, her smile was enough to make him forget any hunger.
“Let’s go. You haven’t forgotten where the chapel is, have you?” Afrosa asked, her voice tinged with concern, as Alec continued to admire the house.
“I remember,” he replied, turning his head toward her.
“Then why are you staring at the house for so long?”
“Because it’s beautiful.”
“What?”
“Our house—it’s beautiful, so I was looking at it.”
Afrosa looked at him, momentarily lost for words.
“I built it, after all,” he added with a proud smile.
She burst out laughing, and Alec smiled back.
This home, built entirely by his own effort, had been his dream long before he proposed to her. While Father Dallas had suggested they live in the chapel’s quarters after their marriage, Alec had refused. He wanted their life together to begin in a place that was solely theirs. For Afrosa and the children they would one day have, he had felled trees, carved wood, and raised the foundation and roof with his own hands.
The wind blew gently. The village, transitioning from summer to autumn, was picturesque in its beauty. On either side of the path they walked, fields of golden barley swayed peacefully. Alec held his wife’s hand tightly as she briskly moved forward, her expression determined. Suddenly, Afrosa turned to look at him. Alec softened his lips into a gentle smile, trying to appear calm.
“You’re saying Alec seems strange?”
“Yes, Father. He started acting oddly yesterday. He’s never been sick, but now he’s spouting nonsense and acting completely out of character…”
“It’s not that bad, Rose,” Alec interjected with a sigh, cutting off his wife.
“What do you mean, ‘not that bad’? You’re acting like someone who’s come back from the dead!”
Alec flinched at her words, ‘come back from the dead.’ Afrosa narrowed her eyes and glared at him. He stiffened slightly and turned his gaze to Father Dallas.
Father Dallas was the village’s sole priest. In this small rural hamlet, where there wasn’t even a proper parish, he served a community of about a hundred people. Beyond his role as a priest, he was also the village’s teacher, apothecary, musician, and judge.
“Hmm…”
Father Dallas, who had been glancing back and forth between his daughter and son-in-law, rubbed his chin with a worried expression. Afrosa, who had shown up without notice, was unusually agitated. While it wasn’t rare for her to be assertive—she was naturally fiery, especially when it came to her husband—today, her agitation was on another level.
“Is that so?”
Father Dallas looked at Alec with concern etched on his face.