I Want to Have a Child

There had already been several refusals before. The more this situation repeated, the more his suspicions grew like a snowball.

That Dalia had mixed with another man... and was pregnant with his child.

Damn.

Clayton couldn't stop the wild thoughts that were spreading in his mind.

It was crazy to have such low thoughts about her, but the thought that it might all be true made him feel like his eyes were spinning.

After finally catching his breath, he chuckled and asked again.

"Is this what you mean by giving blood but not your body?"

"No, that's not it... I mean, this is..."

Dalia bit her lip without being able to make any excuses.

She lowered her head, unable to meet Clayton's hurt eyes.

There was nothing she could say in this situation. Hadn't she refused to be with Clayton like this countless times before?

Every time this happened, Clayton would say that if she didn't want it, he wouldn't push her, but even patience has its limits.

So, it wasn't strange that he was this angry.

That was when Dalia was carefully choosing the right words to calm his mood.

"You wanted a child, didn't you?"

"...What?"

It was an unexpected question. Dalia slowly lifted her head, her eyes filled with confusion. The question was soon answered by another question that followed.

"Then what about the medicine from your room?"

"Medicine...?"

"Fertility treatment."

At the word that should not have come from his mouth, Dalia took a sharp breath.

It was then that she realized the medicine Rachel had once given her had disappeared at some point.

"I saw fertility treatment medicine in your room."

"Duke, that's...!"

At a loss for words, she clutched the sheet, unsure of what to say.

Seeing Dalia not offer any excuse, Clayton chuckled and got up from the bed.

Afraid that if she let him go like this, it would be irreversible, Dalia instinctively grabbed his wrist.

"Wait...! I can explain."

But was it already too late? Maybe everything had started to go wrong the moment she hid the pregnancy.

Clayton coldly brushed her hand away and walked past her, leaving the bedroom.

* * *

Bang—!

Clayton returned to the room and slammed the bedroom door shut.

Anger surged like crazy, but he couldn't fathom the cause.

Was he angry with Dalia for refusing to sleep with him, or was he angry at himself for storming out over such a trivial thing? He couldn't tell.

When did I become someone who can't control their emotions over such small things?

Even though he had that question, he had the illusion that he knew exactly when it started.

Clayton drank water in large gulps to calm the fire that surged inside him.

But no matter how much water he drank, there was no sign of calming down.

"...Damn."

He swore and slammed the glass down. The sound of the glass almost breaking echoed across the table.

Clayton ran his hand through his still damp hair. Why was he going crazy like this? For what? For whom?

Normally, if Dalia refused to sleep with him, he would have backed off.

He didn't want to force himself on her if she didn't want it.

Of course, he had to fight the urge to release his pent-up desires, but he always retreated gracefully.

It was natural to do the same today. She looked quite tired, and she probably was.

It had been a tiring day, hadn't it?

Not only did she attend the Marchioness's tea party, but she also went through quite an annoying ordeal.

On top of that, she was writing a letter for Rose, so it was natural for her to want to rest.

He remembered the roughness of Dalia's fingertips when they accidentally touched, and a sigh escaped him.

Why couldn't he understand that and acted like a horny bastard? Why couldn't he control his lust and acted so petty?

It was an absurd thing, even to himself.

"Stupid bastard."

He couldn't even control his own frustration and ended up storming out past Dalia.

She must be hurt. She might even be angry. She probably won't want to look at him for a while.

Clayton rubbed his face with dry hands, then let out a hollow laugh at his pathetic state before nervously pulling out a cigar.

Soon, a cloudy smoke spread into the air. At the same time, his mind began to calm down a bit.

Now that he thought about it, he hadn't been feeling well lately.

He knew better than anyone when it had started.

He had been trying his best not to bring it up, covering it with effort.

'Since I heard about the family secret regarding the scent emanating from Dalia.'

A huge stone had settled in Clayton's heart from that moment.

'People from the Seayer family feel an irresistible, alluring scent from pregnant women.'

The giant stone lodged deeply in his chest, unmovable, and he had never mentioned it or even hinted at it to Dalia.

Clayton pressed his aching forehead and finally let out the question he had never dared ask himself.

"What if Dalia really is pregnant?"

Anxiety instantly tightened around him. Every moment felt filled with nervousness.

Dalia had never drunk his blood. Yet, if she was indeed pregnant... the answer was one.

That child is not mine.

Clayton laughed bitterly at the realization, recalling the time at Cavan House when the young men made crude remarks about Dalia.

'Is there a rule that only the Duke gets the hand? Who knows, maybe the Duchess has something in both hands.'

At that time, he dismissed it as nonsense. But, could it really have been nonsense?

Looking back, Dalia had occasionally avoided the servants and disappeared somewhere. Where her steps had led...

Clayton reflexively swore.

Whenever it involved Dalia, he always became emotional like this. Endless bad thoughts came to mind, only to fade away.

He was buried in his own thoughts, on the verge of sinking into an abyss.

A sharp knock broke his bad thoughts,

"Duke..."

Dalia cautiously entered the bedroom.

As soon as Clayton saw Dalia, he crushed his cigar into the ashtray. It was an instinctive, unconscious action.

Dalia hesitated, holding the doorknob. Her steps were cautious as she tried to meet his indifferent gaze, but a cold voice stopped her.

"What is it?"

Dalia stopped in her tracks. She couldn't speak, as she was facing his cold eyes.

"I asked what's going on."

After a long pause, another sharp question came. Dalia stopped hesitating and finally spoke.

"I came to apologize."

"..."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you, Duke. It's just... just..."

"..."

"The reason I refused wasn't because of anything else. I was just really tired... but I didn't explain properly, so I can understand why you misunderstood. I just didn't think you would be hurt."

Dalia immediately began explaining, fearing Clayton's anger would erupt.

The fertility treatment Clayton found in her room was just a gift from Rachel, not something she bought herself. She hoped he wouldn't misunderstand.

Clayton, silently listening to her explanation, finally asked.

"Then what about you?"

"...What?"

"Do you want a child?"

"That's..."

It was an unexpectedly direct question. It was very sudden for Dalia, but she didn't want to lie to Clayton.

Dalia, worried about how he would react, opened her mouth cautiously.

"...Yes, I want a child."

A shadow quickly passed over Clayton's face. His jaw stiffened.

So, does that mean she wants to have another man's child? Or, is she going to admit that she's pregnant with another man's child?

"But... the child I want isn't someone else's."

The tense muscles on Clayton's face loosened from the complexity of his thoughts.

"I want to have your child, Duke."

Thud. His heart sank to his feet. Clayton opened his tightly shut mouth.

"...My child?"

"Yes. Not anyone else's, but only yours."

"Ha."

A hollow laugh escaped him. All the nonsense thoughts he had were instantly shattered by Dalia.

His heart thudded. His stomach churned and tightened, repeating the sensation of being squeezed and released.

Clayton ran his hand through his hair in self-mockery. With a mix of relief and anxiety, he was confused, and Dalia carefully embraced him.

"So, just... just wait a little longer."

And with those words, everything melted away like snow. No, it wasn't really melting. It was just...

It was just buried.