Transmigrated as the Villainess Princess - Chapter 240

Chapter 240: A New Direction (4)

The garden was quieter now. Most of the guests had returned to the ballroom, where the next set of performances was beginning. Music played softly through the walls, blending with the rustling of leaves and the gentle burble of the fountain beside Ahcehera and Eros.

Moonlight bathed the garden in a silver hue, casting their shadows in long streaks across the trimmed grass and flowering hedges. Ahcehera sat calmly on the bench, the wine glass now resting beside her on the stone surface. Eros remained at her side, his presence familiar and steady.

There was a comforting ease between them, a silent understanding nurtured over time and hardships. Neither of them spoke for a while. The silence was not awkward. It was restful, shared, a space where both could breathe without expectation. Finally, after a moment of watching the stars, Eros broke the silence.

His voice was soft, hesitant, as if he had been waiting for the right moment. “How is your heart these days, Ahcehera?”

She turned her gaze toward him, lips curling into a gentle smile that reached her eyes.

“Happy and contented,” she said without a trace of hesitation. “It’s quieter now. Less turbulent.”

Her tone held no bitterness, no sorrow, only clarity. “I’ve let go of many things. I think I’ve learned to live with peace.”

Eros nodded slowly, absorbing her answer. He had seen her journey, how she had crumbled and built herself again, how she had lost parts of herself and still found a way to move forward. Her words weren’t just a declaration. They were a testimony of survival.

“I’m glad,” he said sincerely. “You deserve that peace. After everything.”

Ahcehera’s eyes drifted upward again. “Sometimes, I still remember everything I’ve lost,” she admitted. “But it doesn’t hurt anymore. It’s like watching a different life through someone else’s eyes.”

“Maybe that’s what healing really is,” Eros murmured. “Not forgetting, but being able to remember without pain.”

She gave a soft hum of agreement. “Yes. That sounds right.”

They talked for a long time after that. About the academy. About Liliana, and how she had recently convinced her grandfather to give her a hoverboard. About Queen Tereza’s attempts to secretly sneak sweets to the royal guards. About King Dan’s daily walks with Liliana through the west wing and how he now claimed to be her personal knight.

They even laughed about the awkward performances during the gala, how one of the mecha suit dancers had tripped and crashed into the decorative pillar. Their laughter was soft but real, a gentle release of emotions that had built up over time.

Ahcehera’s face lit up when she talked, her voice more relaxed than it had been in months. There was no tension in her shoulders, no weight in her tone. And Eros, ever the silent observer, cherished every word she offered. She was not the same woman he had met two years ago.

She was lighter now, even with all she had lost. And perhaps, in her lightness, she had become stronger. Yet neither of them knew that their conversation was not entirely private.

Hidden behind the stone archway of the garden’s entrance, half-cloaked in shadow and silence, Riezekiel stood motionless. He had not intended to eavesdrop. After the strange moment earlier, he had wandered the garden again, hoping to find clarity, perhaps even the courage to speak to Ahcehera.

But what he found instead was her… happy. Genuinely. Without him. He had arrived just in time to hear her say her heart was happy and contented. And the words struck him with such force that he nearly lost his footing.

He stayed anyway, frozen, a part of him desperate to hear more. As they spoke and laughed, every word pierced him deeper than the last. He could feel it, the space between them, the time that had passed, the life that had continued in his absence. He had thought of her every day since he left.

Every day, he rebuilt the Mors Dukedom from the ashes. Her name echoed in his mind like a prayer. Every day, he imagined how she might greet him again, how they might reclaim what was once theirs. But this… this was not what he prepared for.

She did not wait. She did not yearn. She did not even recognize him in her heart. The realization was more painful than he could bear. Riezekiel clenched his fists at his side, his nails biting into his palms. His chest felt hollow as if the very core of him had been scooped out.

He had returned with hope, foolish, fragile hope, that some part of her might still be his. But she had already let go. She had learned to live without him. He was a chapter she had closed. And now, as he watched her share gentle laughter with Eros, as he witnessed the soft way she looked at her friend, something inside him cracked.

Perhaps it was jealousy. Perhaps it was grief. Perhaps it was just the cruel echo of reality catching up to his stubborn dreams. But whatever it was, it hollowed him out with precision. He turned slowly, silently, making sure no one noticed. And he left the garden, swallowed by the shadows that had always seemed to follow him.

Behind him, Ahcehera and Eros remained unaware of his presence, their conversation continuing under the stars. Their laughter faded into the night, soft as feathers, while Riezekiel walked alone through the dark corridors of the academy, his heart finally accepting a truth he had long denied.

Ahcehera no longer belonged to the past. She belonged to the present. And in that present, there was no space left for him. Riezekiel wandered aimlessly through the silent halls of the academy, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the empty corridor.

His chest ached with every breath, and the weight of unspoken words pressed heavily against his throat. He had dreamed of returning, of finding something familiar to hold onto, but the world had moved on without him. And now, so had she.

As he stepped outside into the cold night air, he looked up at the same stars Ahcehera once gazed at and whispered her name, not to call her back but to let her go, even if it shattered him.

But even as he tried to let her go, his heart rebelled against the notion. He clenched his fists, the memory of her smile etched deeply into his soul. The woman he saw earlier was not the Ahcehera he knew, her gaze was distant, her aura unfamiliar. Yet something about her still called to him like a ghost of a promise left unfulfilled.

Riezekiel pressed a hand to his chest, where the bond once lived, and wondered if she truly remembered nothing at all or if she was merely pretending, guarding her heart behind walls he no longer had the right to breach.