Please, Divorce Me Chapter Twenty-Seven

PDM Chapter 27



Why are you–. Words that couldn’t come out of my mouth were scattered in the air. 

Even though denying the situation didn’t make it any less true, I shook my head and looked around.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. 


I covered my ears with both hands. When I shook my head while scratching my face, my tears fell to my feet. Did he hear my voice? Kyle’s eyes were now fixed on me.


‘Say what you want.’

‘I heard that having a child is hard on a mother’s body.’

‘I’ll be back.’

Your kindness made me expect. Sometimes I was drunk on the vain hope that you would love me. If I hadn’t expected it, I wouldn’t have felt like the ground collapsed and eroded.



My vision darkened, and my body drained of strength. It felt like an endless fall into a dark and gloomy abyss. The last thing I saw was the gray sky that reminded me of Kyle’s eyes.

“How is her condition?” Kyle urgently asked the moment the doctor moved away from Aelle’s body. But, unlike his usual calm tone, his voice trembled. 

Aelle, lying still on the bed, looked incredibly pale. The only proof of life was her soft sound of breathing. 

The doctor shook his head, wrinkles appearing on his forehead. “Madam miscarried and overworked her body…”

Kyle’s eyes widened, and he turned to the doctor. His bloodshot eyes shook. 

“Miscarried?” He asked, his voice trembling.

Laura stepped forward, her face painted in anguish, and bowed. “I’m sorry. I haven’t been able to tell you because everything happened so fast.”

A short breath escaped Kyle’s lips. He covered his mouth and looked back at Aelle. Her appearance hasn’t changed since he last saw her a month ago. 

Her hands, laid neatly on the bed, were skin and bones. Her neck, which looked like it would fit in one hand, was so thin, it was as if it would break if he applied force. He couldn’t tell the difference between when she was pregnant and when she wasn’t. 

They lost a child. Kyle understood it in theory, but the situation didn’t really sink in, that life once existed.

Two images flashed in his mind– One of Aelle was in the garden, smiling brightly with her hand on her stomach, and the other of her at the Harden mansion, collapsing in shock.

Kyle gritted his teeth and clenched his fist. His chest burned, and a strange feeling rose; what it was, he didn’t know. 

Just as he was looking away, Aelle’s dark hair against her pale skin caught his eye. 

Kyle instinctively reached out his hand but stopped midway. Eyebrows creasing, he looked away. He couldn’t stand seeing Aelle lying there like a corpse. 

Kyle roughly rubbed his face and turned around. 

“Your Grace,” seemingly concerned about Kyle’s condition, Laura approached and followed him, but with a single gesture, she stopped. 


Kyle eventually left the bedroom and walked aimlessly. 

After a long time, Takan suddenly blocked his way. “Kyle.”

Takan, who had always been immaculately dressed as a butler, looked like a mess after riding a horse. Takan clenched his teeth and wiped his face in frustration. 

“Kyle, at least tell me why.”


“Why were you there?”


“What did we see?” Takan’s voice broke. When Kyle merely stared at him, he shut his mouth. 

The tension was thick between them as they stared at each other. 


Then, Kyle let out a deep sigh and ruffled his hair in frustration. His black hair rippled like ink and poured down his forehead. His unkempt look was a rare sight. 

“Stand down.”

Takan closed his eyes and clenched his fist when he heard the stern voice. His hands shook, and he felt like he wanted to explode. 

Takan, who stood next to Kyle on the battlefield, knew his temper well. This was a warning. He did the same before beheading the enemy who was charging at him.

Stand down,’ he’d said. It was a very generous warning. 


Kyle’s eyes turned to Takan’s clenched fists for a moment before falling away. He then walked past him and walked down the empty hallway.

“D*mn it.”


Takan’s eyes darkened, and he turned towards Aelle’s bedroom.

The one room he couldn’t enter. 

“Ha,” I sighed before opening my eyes. 

This place seemed familiar. 

Light penetrated through the balcony window, illuminating the bed, and I watched as dust floated in the air.

I slowly lifted my palms, and the sunlight shone across them.

Did I like the sun, or did I hate it? I didn’t even know anymore. 

Why was I here? Why did I have to work so hard? What did I gain, and at what cost?

When my gaze wandered, it inadvertently landed on a vase with a sunflower. Its petals have fallen under the vase.  

Oh, it’s withered away.

I watched the scene indifferently until the sun had set. 

“Aelle,” Kyle called through the door. His tone sounded as if he was asking for permission to enter, but I didn’t answer. 

I didn’t know how much time had passed. I didn’t want to know.

I felt like something had escaped from me. There was no willingness to do something, no desire to do anything, and no existence to attach my heart to.

At dawn, while everyone was asleep, I stood like an emotionless wooden doll and gazed around the room. The world looked black and white.  

Tears poured down my face, but I didn’t know what or who I was crying for. Laura found like that every night, held me in her arms, and cried with me. 

One day, anger bubbled to the surface. I didn’t know why I was furious, and one day, while I was hitting my chest with my fist, I remembered the child who died because of me. 

Everyone said comforting words to me, but I didn’t know and didn’t want to know why they did. Was there even a reason to be sad when I never saw the child’s face anyway?

But I was curious. What kind of child would they have been if they were born? Would he have resembled me or Kyle? Where did the dead child go? No, did it exist in the first place? If life disappeared so easily, why was I alive and not dead yet?

Was there any reason for me to live? My mind would get jumbled every time I thought about my child, so I decided to stop thinking.

But then I started pondering once more. Why did I live? I live because I was born. But have I ever lived for myself? 


“That day.”

Yes, from the moment I met him, I decided to live for myself.

I regretted it. The life I chose wasn’t for me. If I hadn’t married him, I wouldn’t have felt such pain that I wanted to die. 

Then suddenly, it became clear to me why I was crying. Ah, I was regretting my choice. 

“I want to erase that day.”

The memories came rushing into my head.

It was the first time I had ever seen a man cry so pitifully. 

With his back to the sun, the man knelt and placed his hand on his chest, clenching his teeth and sobbing as if he didn’t care about the dignity of aristocrats.

He was more saddened by the death of the deceased than anyone else.

Distorted face, disheveled clothes, dazzling dark hair in the sunlight. As tears fell from his eyes and soaked the meadow, I realized. I saw something I shouldn’t have.

Oh, I’ll be tethered to that man for the rest of my life.

That emotion I felt, I knew it would be with me for eternity.

Even if that’s person’s heart belonged to another.

It was cruel to one’s self to hope and live with a broken heart. Foolishly enough, I chose such a life. Thinking of him was my priority; taking care of myself was second. 

I lived my life hoping that his heart would turn to me, not realizing how futile it was to beg for his love.

Now that I thought about it, it was senseless. Did I have to continue this love until I lost myself? Courage that came from delusion and ignorance was too much to bear.

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