Guidelines for the Perfect Goodbye - Chapter 38
She headed for the second-floor drawing room, Adam’s usual space, and indeed encountered someone.
“Cecilia?”
“…Ah.”
Ulysses, who had been lounging on a single sofa with his long legs crossed, closed the book he was reading. He looked unexpectedly disconcerted by their encounter.
Of course, Cecilia wasn’t too pleased either.
Did he think he’s the only one who felt uncomfortable?
Why does it have to be you? That’s what she’d like to ask him.
She really didn’t want to be with him. Though Ulysses wasn’t as intolerable as Nigel, their relationship had been strained ever since she had rejected him in the past.
Even now, he stiffly set down his teacup upon seeing her.
‘So, you hate me that much?’
Fine by her then.
“Hmm… I didn’t know you were here.”
Cecilia smiled awkwardly.
“Sorry. It seems I’ve disturbed your rest.”
She intended to smooth things over and leave for another location, anywhere but here.
“Not really.”
Before Cecilia could turn away, Ulysses spoke.
“There are plenty of seats. Sit down if you want.”
If you want.
There was a sting in his words.
Obviously, she didn’t want to. But Ulysses, not waiting for her response, poured tea into a new cup.
He said that there were plenty of seats, but as he deliberately placed the cup right across from him, it was an implicit instruction to sit right there.
“…Thank you.”
Reluctantly, Cecilia sat down in front of him and took the teacup.
A long silence followed. It felt like a game where the first one to make a sound loses. Coincidentally, neither seemed willing to lose.
Appearing to have no expectation of conversation, Ulysses reopened his book, and Cecilia turned her chair to gaze out the open window behind her.
A cool evening breeze brushed Cecilia’s face. Tired of the stifling atmosphere, she welcomed it with closed eyes.
Suddenly, a tingling sensation on her left cheek made her slowly open her eyelids, and there was Ulysses in her line of sight, staring intently at her from across her.
She barely parted her lips to ask ‘Why?’, but Ulysses was already rising from his chair, leaning towards her and extending his arm.
His long shadow fell over her face, and their blue-tinged eyes locked.
“…”
“…”
Click, the open window snapped shut, heating up the room’s air instantly.
“Why did you close it?”
Cecilia, enjoying the evening air, voiced her slight displeasure.
“Your hair is wet.”
“Oh.”
She absentmindedly touched her damp hair, noticing small droplets at the ends.
“Isn’t it a bit early for a bath?”
Ulysses asked, returning to his spot.
“It was hot. It’s summer.”
Defending herself without thinking, Cecilia then furrowed her brows.
“But what does my bathing schedule have to do with you?”
“Nothing.”
He readily agreed, his cold eyes unchanged, only his lips curling slightly.
“Are you still angry?”
“What?”
“Do you still resent me?”
“…”
Cecilia thought it was an absurd question when he sighed wearily.
“I already apologized for everything back then.”
“What are you talking about…?”
What was he referring to? She wished he’d be clearer.
“That time, three years ago.”
“…Ah.”
Then it hit her.
That was when she was fourteen. Ulysses had made some apology-like statement to her.
‘I was young and misspoke. I’m sorry.’
‘Why not try to get along better? It’s a loss for both of us to stay awkward.’
‘Looking back… well, I think I actually quite liked you.’
If that was an apology, then it was. If it was remorse, well, to someone, it might have been.
To fourteen-year-old Cecilia, it wasn’t. It only fueled her anger, but she suppressed it, not wanting to escalate the issue.
‘Sure,’ she had said.
“Yes. I understood and agreed back then.”
Cecilia responded bluntly.
Back then, she was still angry, hence the short response. Now it was different. Their childhood seemed so distant.
Wounds might last a lifetime, but memories have an expiration date. Now, Ulysses was just an annoying relative, a potential obstacle to her future goals.
Nothing more, nothing less.
“I’m not angry, Ulysses.”
“Oh, truly?”
His still downturned lips suggested disbelief.
‘Not my problem.’
Believe it or not. Cecilia wasn’t interested enough in Ulysses to care.
She just hoped someone would report Nigel’s condition soon, breaking this awkward silence.
“Is anyone in the drawing room?”
Speak of the devil. A footman working under the butler knocked and entered the drawing room.
“Oh, Lady Cecilia. You are here, and so is Lord Ulysses.”
“What’s the matter?”
Ulysses asked, and the footman replied.
“Sir Nigel seems to be in serious condition.”
