115. Everything is resolved.
There is no child now.
The moment he entered his wife's bedroom, Bjorn accepted the truth. The blood-soaked bedding is being cleaned by sobbing maids. The room was filled with the smell of blood and medicine. The somber expressions of the doctors and nurses. There seemed to be no way to deny the truth, conveyed more vividly than words.
Bjorn, who had been about to utter a series of meaningless apologies, nodded and walked straight to the bed. Erna lay there, unconscious, her complexion pale and pale, unlike any living person.
Bjorn swallowed dryly and bent down to check his wife's breathing. Fortunately, her breaths were regular and shallow. The pulse felt at the nape of her neck was also steady.
“First of all, you need to rest, so I prescribed a sedative.”
The attending doctor approached quietly and said calmly.
“I’m ashamed, Your Highness. I need a little more...”
“Get to the point.”
Bjorn looked at the attending doctor with a calm gaze. The lack of reproach made his expression seem even colder.
Clearing his throat with a few coughs, the attending doctor explained the situation as clearly as possible. Erna's condition was much weaker than expected. Perhaps there was a problem with the child's health. The bleeding was severe, but it hadn't become too serious. This kind of thing happens often. Once her health improves, she can have another child. He expressed his regret. It was a cliché, but the attending doctor's expression was filled with sincere comfort.
Bjorn answered with a curt nod. The attending doctor, who had been observing her, quietly withdrew, and the nurses and maids followed suit.
As the door clicked shut, Bjorn turned off the lamp on the nightstand. With the only light gone, the bedroom was plunged into profound darkness. A river breeze blew in through the open window for ventilation, bringing a fishy smell. It was disgusting.
Bjorn sat in a chair pulled up beside the bed, watching Erna, who was fast asleep, as if she had fainted. The urge to move her to another room surged, but he didn't want to wake her and disturb her.
There is no child now.
Bjorn, recalling the fact he had long since accepted, held Erna's hand on the sheet. The woman, always so warm, had grown cold.
Bjorn remained quietly at the bedside until her hand regained its normal temperature. As he gazed at his wife, his dazed mind gradually began to clear.
The child is gone now, but Erna is safe.
A long sigh escaped his lips as he reached the conclusion that it was all right. He didn't delve deeply into the emotions he felt. Bjorn knew full well that whatever it was, it was already meaningless.
Confirming that Erna's breathing had become much calmer, Bjorn left the quiet bedroom with minimal footsteps. As he entered the suite's reception room, everyone who had been at a loss as to what to do turned their gazes to him.
“That’s too bad.”
Bjorn responded to his mother's soft words of comfort with a polite nod. He knew everyone was waiting for his words, but he wondered, "What would be the most appropriate?"
Erna is safe.
Bjorn slowly built up his thoughts on the foundation of the most important conclusion.
As the attending doctor said, this wasn't their unique misfortune. With time, her health would recover, and everything would return to normal. Then, they could have children again. No, he's not even sure if children are a significant part of this marriage.
Now everything is resolved.
Of course, the miscarriage was tragic, but it didn't shake the very foundation of his life. He simply had to endure it, let it pass, and then, with Erna safe, he could return to his light, sparkling days. This was how Bjorn dealt with the tragedy that struck him so suddenly.
Bjorn ran a bloodless hand through his tangled hair. His eyes, which had been leisurely wandering through Erna's space, stopped transfixed on the pile of ornate gifts on the reception table. These objects had become meaningless.
“Clean it up.”
Bjorn's calm command permeated the suffocating silence.
“Unobtrusively.”
His quiet gaze, leaving the table, passed over the baby's belongings scattered throughout the room. Like a mother bird decorating her nest, Erna had gathered them one by one.
“All of them.”
With that brief instruction, Bjorn left his wife's room. The sound of footsteps in the hallway was as calm as usual.
She woke up in the early morning. As summer drew to a close, the days grew shorter, and the sky outside the window was still bathed in a bluish darkness.
Erna got out of bed without hesitation. She turned on the lamp, and the room was instantly bathed in warm light.
Erna made her bed, quickly washed up, and changed her clothes. The breeze blowing through the open window was chilly enough to feel the chill.
Erna, wearing gloves and a hat, gazed out at the river beyond the darkness, feeling the breeze. The scenery, so different from what she'd seen from the Grand Duchess's room, no longer felt unfamiliar. It had already been a month since she'd moved into the guest bedroom. It had been an hour since she'd become accustomed to the change.
Erna packed a thick woolen shawl and set out for an early stroll. She passed the fountain, which had been shut down earlier than planned, and reached the point where the Abbey River and the canal met. The rhythmic sound of her footsteps quietly permeated the cold, clear dawn air.
These days, Erna's day usually begins like this: waking up early, going for a walk, resting, and eating when the time comes. Despite her poor health throughout her pregnancy, her recovery was rapid. It was as if her body was rejecting the baby. Such thoughts kept making her feel nauseous.
Erna stood by the river, watching the deepening blue of the river and the morning glow. It was a perfectly peaceful and beautiful scene.
I have to go back now.
Erna consoled herself and turned around. Another perfect world shone brightly in the bright morning sunlight.
When she woke up from a long sleep, everything was in order.
Perhaps it was because the pain, tears, and countless anxieties had left her with the baby? Erna wasn't as sad or distressed as she'd thought. "It was just so-so." She accepted everything calmly. Her only wish was to leave the room, which held painful memories, for a while. Fortunately, Bjorn readily granted her request. "Thank you." Erna smiled, greeting him absentmindedly. She wasn't sure if her smile was pretty enough to satisfy him.
After standing there for a while, staring blankly at the mansion, Erna returned with a weightless, ghostly gait. The servants who encountered the Grand Duchess greeted her with a much more friendly demeanor than before.
At most, it's only for a year.
The mockery that followed her like a tag suddenly brought to mind the servants' bet. Most of them said they bet on the one who wouldn't last a year. So who would win the prize? Perhaps Lisa had participated? If so, it would be nice to be Lisa's trophy. As her thoughts wandered, Erna found myself near the bedroom door.
Erna opened the door with a resigned look and began a quiet day.
After a short rest, she ate and read the newspaper for the day. Princess Gladys's name was still a hot potato in Letzen. Lately, the issue of Bjorn's whereabouts had been added to the mix. There was a sharp divide between those who believed she should be restored to her position and those who believed the current Crown Prince, who was performing his duties admirably, should be placed next in line.
What does Bjorn mean?
Now that she thinks about it, it's been quite some time since she's had a proper conversation with him. Even though they sit at the same table at least once a day. They definitely meet face to face and talk about various things, but for some reason, she can't remember anything.
Erna, putting away her neatly folded newspaper, began to check the backlog of incoming mail. The sheer volume of letters was so overwhelming that her wrists ached from replying. Even the ladies who had blatantly ignored and rejected Erna began to send letters and gifts. Most of them condemned Princess Gladys for her consummate deception and praised Erna for silently enduring it all.
Unsure of what to say, Erna began by reading and responding to the polite letters. The letters, which shared her own miscarriage experience and expressed empathy for her pain, offered immense comfort, even if they were merely formalities. The concluding words, always accompanied by the assurance that she would deliver a healthy baby next time, felt even more alienating.
"Next..."
Erna whispered the word with a face as if she had encountered an unfamiliar foreign language.
Of course, Erna knew it too. As long as this marriage lasted, she had a duty to bear and raise Bjorn Dneister's child. That was likely one of the few remaining uses for the Grand Duchess, who was no longer even able to act as a shield.
Next. Next.
Erna's face grew increasingly pale as she nervously muttered. Even just sitting still, she felt out of breath and broke out in a cold sweat. The pen she'd dropped in the wind left a stain on the half-filled letter.
Erna, who realized it too late, was hurriedly looking for the apology when a polite knock was heard.
“This is Mrs. Fitz, Your Highness.”
It was exactly the voice she expected.
“The Prince wants to have lunch with you.”
The voice's completely unexpected words caused Erna to hold her breath. The sound of the dropped stencil falling to the floor permeated the silence.
The Grand Duke and Grand Duchess's luncheon was held in the Garden Room. It was Bjorn's order. He also ordered the rich floral arrangements, lace tablecloths, and white fish dishes with a mild sauce.
Bjorn, who arrived first, sat down at the table with a satisfactory appearance and waited for Erna.
It was this morning that he resolved to end this stalemate. Though no woman was bustling about at dawn, her eyes opened early. The bed he lay in alone was too spacious, and the complete silence was suffocating. The absurdity and annoyance made him chuckle, then he thought, "It's time everything fell into place."
Bjorn's gaze, surveying the tropical plants in the garden room, lingered on the table clock atop the fireplace mantlepiece. Just as he was starting to feel a sense of loss, realizing that only five minutes had passed since his arrival, he heard a familiar voice.
Bjorn slowly turned his gaze toward the source of the weightless, steady footsteps approaching like falling snow. It was his wife, Erna.
There is no child now.
The moment he entered his wife's bedroom, Bjorn accepted the truth. The blood-soaked bedding is being cleaned by sobbing maids. The room was filled with the smell of blood and medicine. The somber expressions of the doctors and nurses. There seemed to be no way to deny the truth, conveyed more vividly than words.
Bjorn, who had been about to utter a series of meaningless apologies, nodded and walked straight to the bed. Erna lay there, unconscious, her complexion pale and pale, unlike any living person.
Bjorn swallowed dryly and bent down to check his wife's breathing. Fortunately, her breaths were regular and shallow. The pulse felt at the nape of her neck was also steady.
“First of all, you need to rest, so I prescribed a sedative.”
The attending doctor approached quietly and said calmly.
“I’m ashamed, Your Highness. I need a little more...”
“Get to the point.”
Bjorn looked at the attending doctor with a calm gaze. The lack of reproach made his expression seem even colder.
Clearing his throat with a few coughs, the attending doctor explained the situation as clearly as possible. Erna's condition was much weaker than expected. Perhaps there was a problem with the child's health. The bleeding was severe, but it hadn't become too serious. This kind of thing happens often. Once her health improves, she can have another child. He expressed his regret. It was a cliché, but the attending doctor's expression was filled with sincere comfort.
Bjorn answered with a curt nod. The attending doctor, who had been observing her, quietly withdrew, and the nurses and maids followed suit.
As the door clicked shut, Bjorn turned off the lamp on the nightstand. With the only light gone, the bedroom was plunged into profound darkness. A river breeze blew in through the open window for ventilation, bringing a fishy smell. It was disgusting.
Bjorn sat in a chair pulled up beside the bed, watching Erna, who was fast asleep, as if she had fainted. The urge to move her to another room surged, but he didn't want to wake her and disturb her.
There is no child now.
Bjorn, recalling the fact he had long since accepted, held Erna's hand on the sheet. The woman, always so warm, had grown cold.
Bjorn remained quietly at the bedside until her hand regained its normal temperature. As he gazed at his wife, his dazed mind gradually began to clear.
The child is gone now, but Erna is safe.
A long sigh escaped his lips as he reached the conclusion that it was all right. He didn't delve deeply into the emotions he felt. Bjorn knew full well that whatever it was, it was already meaningless.
Confirming that Erna's breathing had become much calmer, Bjorn left the quiet bedroom with minimal footsteps. As he entered the suite's reception room, everyone who had been at a loss as to what to do turned their gazes to him.
“That’s too bad.”
Bjorn responded to his mother's soft words of comfort with a polite nod. He knew everyone was waiting for his words, but he wondered, "What would be the most appropriate?"
Erna is safe.
Bjorn slowly built up his thoughts on the foundation of the most important conclusion.
As the attending doctor said, this wasn't their unique misfortune. With time, her health would recover, and everything would return to normal. Then, they could have children again. No, he's not even sure if children are a significant part of this marriage.
Now everything is resolved.
Of course, the miscarriage was tragic, but it didn't shake the very foundation of his life. He simply had to endure it, let it pass, and then, with Erna safe, he could return to his light, sparkling days. This was how Bjorn dealt with the tragedy that struck him so suddenly.
Bjorn ran a bloodless hand through his tangled hair. His eyes, which had been leisurely wandering through Erna's space, stopped transfixed on the pile of ornate gifts on the reception table. These objects had become meaningless.
“Clean it up.”
Bjorn's calm command permeated the suffocating silence.
“Unobtrusively.”
His quiet gaze, leaving the table, passed over the baby's belongings scattered throughout the room. Like a mother bird decorating her nest, Erna had gathered them one by one.
“All of them.”
With that brief instruction, Bjorn left his wife's room. The sound of footsteps in the hallway was as calm as usual.
***
She woke up in the early morning. As summer drew to a close, the days grew shorter, and the sky outside the window was still bathed in a bluish darkness.
Erna got out of bed without hesitation. She turned on the lamp, and the room was instantly bathed in warm light.
Erna made her bed, quickly washed up, and changed her clothes. The breeze blowing through the open window was chilly enough to feel the chill.
Erna, wearing gloves and a hat, gazed out at the river beyond the darkness, feeling the breeze. The scenery, so different from what she'd seen from the Grand Duchess's room, no longer felt unfamiliar. It had already been a month since she'd moved into the guest bedroom. It had been an hour since she'd become accustomed to the change.
Erna packed a thick woolen shawl and set out for an early stroll. She passed the fountain, which had been shut down earlier than planned, and reached the point where the Abbey River and the canal met. The rhythmic sound of her footsteps quietly permeated the cold, clear dawn air.
These days, Erna's day usually begins like this: waking up early, going for a walk, resting, and eating when the time comes. Despite her poor health throughout her pregnancy, her recovery was rapid. It was as if her body was rejecting the baby. Such thoughts kept making her feel nauseous.
Erna stood by the river, watching the deepening blue of the river and the morning glow. It was a perfectly peaceful and beautiful scene.
I have to go back now.
Erna consoled herself and turned around. Another perfect world shone brightly in the bright morning sunlight.
When she woke up from a long sleep, everything was in order.
Perhaps it was because the pain, tears, and countless anxieties had left her with the baby? Erna wasn't as sad or distressed as she'd thought. "It was just so-so." She accepted everything calmly. Her only wish was to leave the room, which held painful memories, for a while. Fortunately, Bjorn readily granted her request. "Thank you." Erna smiled, greeting him absentmindedly. She wasn't sure if her smile was pretty enough to satisfy him.
After standing there for a while, staring blankly at the mansion, Erna returned with a weightless, ghostly gait. The servants who encountered the Grand Duchess greeted her with a much more friendly demeanor than before.
At most, it's only for a year.
The mockery that followed her like a tag suddenly brought to mind the servants' bet. Most of them said they bet on the one who wouldn't last a year. So who would win the prize? Perhaps Lisa had participated? If so, it would be nice to be Lisa's trophy. As her thoughts wandered, Erna found myself near the bedroom door.
Erna opened the door with a resigned look and began a quiet day.
After a short rest, she ate and read the newspaper for the day. Princess Gladys's name was still a hot potato in Letzen. Lately, the issue of Bjorn's whereabouts had been added to the mix. There was a sharp divide between those who believed she should be restored to her position and those who believed the current Crown Prince, who was performing his duties admirably, should be placed next in line.
What does Bjorn mean?
Now that she thinks about it, it's been quite some time since she's had a proper conversation with him. Even though they sit at the same table at least once a day. They definitely meet face to face and talk about various things, but for some reason, she can't remember anything.
Erna, putting away her neatly folded newspaper, began to check the backlog of incoming mail. The sheer volume of letters was so overwhelming that her wrists ached from replying. Even the ladies who had blatantly ignored and rejected Erna began to send letters and gifts. Most of them condemned Princess Gladys for her consummate deception and praised Erna for silently enduring it all.
Unsure of what to say, Erna began by reading and responding to the polite letters. The letters, which shared her own miscarriage experience and expressed empathy for her pain, offered immense comfort, even if they were merely formalities. The concluding words, always accompanied by the assurance that she would deliver a healthy baby next time, felt even more alienating.
"Next..."
Erna whispered the word with a face as if she had encountered an unfamiliar foreign language.
Of course, Erna knew it too. As long as this marriage lasted, she had a duty to bear and raise Bjorn Dneister's child. That was likely one of the few remaining uses for the Grand Duchess, who was no longer even able to act as a shield.
Next. Next.
Erna's face grew increasingly pale as she nervously muttered. Even just sitting still, she felt out of breath and broke out in a cold sweat. The pen she'd dropped in the wind left a stain on the half-filled letter.
Erna, who realized it too late, was hurriedly looking for the apology when a polite knock was heard.
“This is Mrs. Fitz, Your Highness.”
It was exactly the voice she expected.
“The Prince wants to have lunch with you.”
The voice's completely unexpected words caused Erna to hold her breath. The sound of the dropped stencil falling to the floor permeated the silence.
***
The Grand Duke and Grand Duchess's luncheon was held in the Garden Room. It was Bjorn's order. He also ordered the rich floral arrangements, lace tablecloths, and white fish dishes with a mild sauce.
Bjorn, who arrived first, sat down at the table with a satisfactory appearance and waited for Erna.
It was this morning that he resolved to end this stalemate. Though no woman was bustling about at dawn, her eyes opened early. The bed he lay in alone was too spacious, and the complete silence was suffocating. The absurdity and annoyance made him chuckle, then he thought, "It's time everything fell into place."
Bjorn's gaze, surveying the tropical plants in the garden room, lingered on the table clock atop the fireplace mantlepiece. Just as he was starting to feel a sense of loss, realizing that only five minutes had passed since his arrival, he heard a familiar voice.
Bjorn slowly turned his gaze toward the source of the weightless, steady footsteps approaching like falling snow. It was his wife, Erna.
Comments
Post a Comment