Married To Darkness - Chapter 499
Chapter 499: Am I Good To Her?
“Don’t,” she whispered.
The word fractured on its way out, soft and brittle, like glass pressed too thin. Her voice betrayed her before she could stop it.
“Please. Not right now.”
Alaric stopped.
He stood a few steps behind her, frozen in place, the night folding around them. He swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing as though he were forcing something painful back down his throat.
She was crying because of the play.
But she was breaking because of him.
“Salviana,” he said quietly, carefully, as though her name alone might shatter her. “I am here.”
Her shoulders trembled—just once. A small, involuntary movement. But it was enough to tear through him.
Then she spoke again, so softly the words almost dissolved into the air.
“Why does everything hurt so much…?”
Alaric closed his eyes.
Every instinct in him screamed to reach for her—to pull her against his chest, to let her cry into him until the world softened again. But he didn’t move. He knew better than to touch her when she was like this.
“Because,” he said gently, voice low and steady despite the ache in his chest, “you’re trying to carry everything alone.”
She didn’t turn around.
But she didn’t walk away either.
The silence stretched, thick and breathing between them.
“Talk to me, my love,” he said at last.
The words landed differently than he intended.
Salviana’s fingers curled slowly at her sides.
Then—without looking at him—she asked, her voice stripped of warmth, edged with something raw and dangerous:
“Have you been… how many women have you been with?”
Alaric blinked.
“What?” Confusion crossed his face immediately. He took a step closer. “What happened?”
“Answer the question, Alaric,” she insisted.
Her breath was shallow now. Cold sweat dotted her brow, her heart thudding too loudly in her ears. She hated that she had asked. Hated that she needed to know.
“I would love to be with you,” he said, half-smiling out of instinct, trying to lighten the heaviness—but his eyes searched her face, sensing something was terribly wrong.
“That is not the question, Alaric,” she cut in sharply. Her voice didn’t rise, but it hardened. “Answer me. Or I leave.”
The threat wasn’t loud.
It was final.
Alaric’s smile vanished.
He reached out, fingers brushing her arm before she could pull away. “I only ever wanted you,” he said, earnest now, stripped bare of charm or pretense.
Her chest tightened.
The words didn’t soothe her the way they should have.
“Take me home,” she said quietly.
She inhaled deeply, steadying herself, as though holding onto the last thread of her composure.
Alaric exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Fiery wife,” he murmured, half-teasing, half-nervous—but she didn’t respond.
She wouldn’t even look at him.
She sighed then, exhausted by her own silence. “Please,” she said, softer now. “Anywhere but standing in one place.”
That—at least—he could do.
Alaric nodded immediately. “Of course.”
He turned, already signaling for the horse, walking beside her without touching her this time—matching her pace, respecting the distance she needed.
He helped her hop on the horse first then he joined her.
And as they moved away from the theatre, under the quiet wash of lantern light, Alaric knew one thing with painful clarity:
Whatever poison had reached her heart tonight…
He would have to bleed it out himself.
Alaric’s thoughts came apart the way thread does when pulled too hard—slow at first, then all at once.
He did not know what he had done wrong.
That terrified him more than knowing.
She sat in front of him on the horse, rigid and silent, her spine straight as though even the act of leaning back into him would cost her something precious. The space between them felt wider than the road beneath the hooves, wider than the night stretched before them.
What if she has realized she does not want me anymore?
The thought struck without warning, sharp and merciless.
He swallowed, his jaw tightening. He had always known he was not… enough. Not in the ways that mattered in whispers and candlelight. He had given her presence. Protection. Loyalty. A steady hand. But was that all?
I am only here, he thought bitterly. And perhaps that is all I know how to be.
What if she needed more than a man who stood beside her?
What if she wanted a man who could silence her doubts with touch, with certainty—with a kind of intimacy he had never dared to fully claim?
His chest ached.
She had agreed to marry him again. Chosen him. Said yes with her eyes clear and her voice steady.
She loved him.
He loved her.
So why did it feel as though she were slipping through his fingers like water?
It is communication, he told himself desperately. That is all. We only need to speak.
But the word speak felt enormous now, heavy and dangerous. Words could heal—but they could also confirm what he feared most.
He did not know where to take her.
Home felt too small. The castle too loud. The road too uncertain.
He tugged the reins absently, the horse responding to the shift in his tension. She moved with the motion, her body swaying forward, and instinct flared in him—a sharp, aching urge to lean down and press his lips to the crown of her head.
Just once.
Just to remind her—and himself—that they were still this close.
But he didn’t.
He couldn’t.
She was unhappy with him.
And worse—he was unhappy with himself because of it.
Does she hate me now?
The question hollowed him out.
Alaric lowered his gaze, eyes tracing the familiar line of her head beneath his chin. Her red hair caught the moonlight, glowing softly, treacherously beautiful. It called to him the way fire calls to cold hands—promising warmth, daring him to reach.
He clenched his jaw.
He would not touch her unless she asked.
He would not steal comfort she had not offered.
The silence pressed in, thick and unbearable.
He exhaled slowly, a long breath dragged from somewhere deep in his chest, then gave the reins a sharper tug.
The horse surged forward, hooves pounding harder against the road as the night rushed to meet them.
If he could not fix this with words yet—
Then at least he would not let the fear catch up to them.
Not tonight.