Chapter 38
The Time I Loved You

Sometimes a correct prediction leaves only displeasure behind.

That morning, as Matthias looked out over the rose garden and found it empty of Layla Llewellyn, the realization struck him.

Of course she wouldn’t show herself, not after what had happened. He had already anticipated this last night, when Hessen gave his report in the study. Yet seeing it with his own eyes—the absence itself—brought him a faint sense of disquiet.

What a fool she is.

With a dry laugh, Matthias drew the thin curtain closed and turned away.

The theft had been nothing but bait. Linda Etman’s true aim was to break Layla Llewellyn’s spirit, to crush her pride. If she could not stop her son, then she would make Layla stop herself. It was, all things considered, a clever strategy—enough that Matthias almost felt like applauding. She had struck with precision, driving the blade where it would cut deepest. The effect would be remarkable.

Indeed, Mrs. Etman’s little game had given him far more entertainment than he had expected. He had laughed aloud more than once while listening to Hessen’s report.

A leisurely weekend morning stretched long and languid.

Dressed and sipping coffee, Matthias looked out once more. Bill Remmer and the workers were busy in the garden, but Layla was nowhere to be seen.

Did she covet a man so far above her without even this much resolve?

With an urge to mock the pitiful girl to his heart’s content, Matthias stepped out for a stroll. On quiet mornings he sometimes stopped by the annex for a swim, so the servants, knowing the routine, withdrew discreetly.

He hoped she was crying. He wanted to be entertained again, just as always.

As that thought repeated in his mind, Matthias found himself standing before the gardener’s cottage. Yet there was no Layla on the porch with a book, no figure flitting about in the yard. The house was oppressively silent.

Irritation flickered through him—until a white dove fluttered down. With purposeful wings it flew straight to the half-open window at the back of the cottage.

Impulse carried Matthias forward. The dove perched calmly on the sill. He noticed at once the letter tied to its leg. And only then did he realize—the window belonged to Layla’s room.

Even when he drew close, the dove did not fly.

A carrier pigeon?

Frowning, Matthias caught it easily. It was docile in his hand. He was still studying the message bound to its leg when a sound from beyond the window made him lift his head sharply.

Crying.

The room he had thought empty—Layla was inside. Lying on her bed, weeping as if her heart would break.

Layla lay with her eyes open, staring at the ceiling long after waking. Sunlight filled the room, birdsong outside the window bright as the summer morning itself.

As her senses returned, so too did the reality she had forgotten in her fever.

Strangely, it felt almost calm.

The emotions that had risen to her throat, choking her, seemed to have melted away—bled out with the cold sweat of illness, washed out with the tears that had fallen without her knowing.

Two days? Three? She had lost count.

Slowly, she pushed herself upright. The dizziness soon faded. She thought of the chores—washing the sheets, wiping the dusty window frame, scrubbing the dishes her uncle had rinsed poorly, polishing them to a shine, and…

Her thoughts broke off. She closed her eyes briefly, and when she opened them again, she accepted the one task that now mattered most.

She had to face Kyle.

“You shouldn’t be walking around already, Layla. You need to rest!”

Kyle’s steps quickened when he spotted her sitting by the stream. She turned her head slowly from her reflection in the water. Her face still bore the traces of illness.

“Why come all the way here? You could have seen me at the house.”

He rushed to her side. Layla sat on the broad stone, knees hugged to her chest. The fine strands of gold hair sliding down her shoulders gleamed like fragments of the afternoon sun.

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

She only looked at him. No smile, no playful spark—only calm.

“What could be so important?”

Kyle smiled for her, but she did not return it. His unease grew, and he forced his grin brighter.

“Still, it’s nice, just the two of us. But you’re not fully well, so…”

“Kyle.”

“I had something to tell you too, actually. Perfect timing. We can talk right here.”

“Kyle.”

“You don’t have to worry about the tuition anymore. Father’s going to Latz tomorrow—he’ll take care of your fees along with—”

“Kyle, I’m not going to university.”

Her quiet words cut through his.

“…What?”

He turned to her sharply. Their eyes met, and for the first time, silence weighed between them.

“I’m not going to university.”

“What are you saying? After passing that exam! Forget about tuition, Layla. Don’t be stubborn about this—”

“And I won’t marry you either.”

She released her knees and pulled her shawl closer.

“I’ll stay here, with Uncle Bill. I’ll live the life I choose for myself. I’m sorry, Kyle. I should have said this from the start. But I… I let greed blind me.”

“Greed?”

“Yes. Even though I tried to deny it, I must have wanted so badly to study at university. So badly that I convinced myself I could—by marrying you. I thought I could use you.”

“You think I’ll believe that?”

His laugh was bitter, cold. But Layla’s eyes didn’t waver.

If only it were a lie.

Her lips trembled, but she smiled faintly, ruefully.

She had thought it was just pity or compassion. But no—Kyle truly loved her. To him, she wasn’t a friend or a sister. To him, Layla Llewellyn was a lover.

He had offered his love, and she had accepted it with friendship.

If she said there had been no greed in that acceptance, it would be a lie. And that lie made her feel even more shameful.

“Not you, Layla. You couldn’t do that.”

He stood abruptly, his long shadow falling over her.

“You love me. Don’t think I don’t know it.”

“I do.”

She did not deny it.

Do you love him, Layla?

She could nod to that a thousand times.

“As my best friend, as a brother, sometimes even as a younger brother—I love you that way, Kyle.”

Even as his face hardened, she held steady. She had to.

“But that’s not the kind of love you want. And I can’t give you anything else. I can’t marry you on those terms.”

“…It doesn’t matter.”

Kyle swallowed hard.

“Love is love. However you love me, it’s enough.”

“No. Not for me.”

She rose slowly. The forest breeze rippled the stream, scattering light across the water.

This place had been their childhood playground. She had always feared the river, but this little brook—shallow to the knee—was safe. Here she had sat in the shade with her books while Kyle caught crayfish and minnows, brought her shells and pebbles to make her smile.

It had been happy. Warm. Full of laughter.

That was the time she loved him. Brighter than the shimmer of the water. Countless memories, unchanging, eternal. But now she would lose him.

Layla lowered her head, hiding her red-rimmed eyes.

“I can’t. I won’t. I’m sorry, Kyle. I should have answered this way from the beginning.”

“If that’s all, then don’t say it. Plenty of people marry without love. You love me, don’t you? That’s enough.”

He stepped closer, gripping her shoulders.

“Use me then. I don’t care.”

“Don’t.”

“If it’s you, it’s fine. Do it. As long as you don’t leave me.”

“Kyle!”

“Anything but that. Anything but leaving me.”

His eyes were red now. Layla clenched her fists to steady herself.

“I can’t. I won’t.”

“You want to go to university so badly you’d use me for it—then hold on to me! Don’t let go!”

“No, Kyle. I want to marry someone I love as a man, as a lover. Thinking of marrying you and moving to Latz only made that clearer.”

The words she most dreaded left her lips. Kyle’s eyes seemed to sink into a bottomless depth.

“I want to live without shame, with the one I love as a man. That desire is stronger than my wish to study.”

“Layla…”

“I thought of pretending, of using you. But then I would live ashamed, regretful forever. I don’t want that.”

“Layla Llewellyn!”

“If I chose that path, even the years I loved you as a friend, as family—those memories would be tainted. That’s what I fear most.”

Her voice trembled, but it was the truth.

She had thought herself grown, but her choice had been the most childish. To cling to Kyle, to dream of going to university together, had been a shameful decision.

Mrs. Etman had been right. The moment she stooped to such schemes, the line had already been crossed.

She could not endure Linda Etman’s hatred. She could not shatter Kyle’s image of his beloved mother. She could not wound Uncle Bill.

The truth now would only bring ruin. After all the tears she had shed, this was what remained.

So she must turn back. Quietly, here.

It was the only way to protect her pride, Kyle’s family, her uncle’s heart.

“Let me keep that time, Kyle.”

Layla met his eyes, her voice soft but firm.

“Let’s stop here.”

Let’s let go of that shining time. Let’s grow up.

She exhaled instead of saying more. Her breath still carried fever’s warmth as it brushed her dry lips. Don’t cry. She had repeated the charm with every step to this place. And it worked—no tears fell.

“Don’t go.”

Kyle caught her wrist suddenly, his large hand trembling.

She opened her eyes and answered by pushing him away. His grip, though strong, fell easily, powerless.

Leaving him standing there by the stream, staring blankly into the water, Layla walked away.

Her eyes burned red, but not a single tear fell before she reached the cottage.