Chapter 89: He Stayed

Catherine’s fingers hovered for a breath over his forehead before settling there, careful and light. His skin was warm beneath her touch.

“You’re frowning,” she whispered soundlessly, though he could not hear her.

Her thumb traced the crease between his brows, smoothing it as one would soothe a restless child.

And the question she had been fighting rose again, relentless and dangerous.

Had her heart already chosen him?

Otherwise… how could she endure staying beside a man who deceived her? How could she look at him and feel pain—not for herself, but for him? Why did the sight of his suffering, even in sleep, ache deeper than her anger?

Her fingers continued their gentle motion, brushing through the dark strands of his hair, easing the tension from his face.

She should not be doing this. She knew she should not. But she could not stop.

Then…

His lashes fluttered.

Her breath caught.

His eyes opened slowly, unfocused at first, then sharpening as they settled on her face. And on her hand.

Her heart stumbled violently in her chest, as though she had been caught committing some intimate transgression.

She froze, fingers still resting against his brow.

He blinked once.

Twice.

And in that fragile, suspended moment between them, the world felt unbearably small.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice soft as she slowly withdrew her hand from his face.

She didn’t want to.

Her fingers lingered for a fraction of a second longer than they should have, brushing the warmth of his skin before she forced herself to pull away. Even then, her hand came to rest too close… hovering near his neck, as though some invisible thread still tethered her to him.

Maximilian smiled.

And that smile… that gentle, faint smile, threaded with something unbearably tender, slid seamlessly into the memory of the smile she had seen in her dream. The one he wore while holding her in the rain, while his own body bled, while he chose to stay with her as she died rather than save himself.

Her chest tightened.

That had to be…

She remembered the woman’s voice, calm and certain.

You died together.

Did he really choose death with me… when he could have lived?

The way he still mourned. The way regret carved itself into his voice whenever the past brushed too close. The way he looked at her as though she were something irreplaceable…

And Charlotte… there was nothing there. No affection. No warmth.

Then what else could it be?

Her heart whispered the answer before her mind could argue.

Love.

The word settled into her chest with a strange, quiet certainty, like the final piece of a puzzle clicking into place. For a moment, everything stilled. Even her doubts faltered, reaching for alternatives and finding none.

Love.

That had to be it.

And if they had ended their lives together… did it matter what came before?

She exhaled slowly, the tension in her chest easing for the first time in days.

No.

What mattered was the truth of those final moments.

Something had happened between the instant he raised his sword at someone behind her… and the moment he held her as she died. Something that changed everything.

Something she had asked of him.

“Sebastian and Bernice slept together,” Maximilian said suddenly, his voice breaking through her thoughts. “I didn’t want you to be surprised.”

Her hand was still close enough for him to catch the faint scent of her hand cream. It wrapped around him, softly and familiar, and for one reckless heartbeat, he wished he could stay like this forever.

Catherine blinked, then let out a short, incredulous laugh.

“You crept into my bed just to tell me that?”

Maximilian sat up, rolling his shoulders in a half-shrug. “I didn’t want you to kill Sebastian.”

The real reason he had come here lodged itself stubbornly behind his ribs, refusing to be spoken.

Catherine pushed herself upright as well. Beside her, Arcturus stirred and shuffled closer, resting his head on her lap. She absently threaded her fingers through the dog’s fur, grounding herself in the familiar warmth.

So… Bernice and Sebastian had crossed that line.

In their last life, Catherine had caught them together more times than she cared to count; she had scolded them, teased them, and urged them to marry before giving themselves to each other.

And Bernice had died before a proposal could ever happen.

This life…

The moment Sebastian found her, he chose her again. And slept with her.

The soul remembers.

Her gaze drifted back to Maximilian.

If the soul remembered… what had he done, after finding her again?

He had protected her.

Saved her. Brought her to safety. Stayed by her side. Fulfilled her wishes—however he could.

Yes, he lied.

But he stayed. Even when she pushed him away, even when she hurt him, he stayed.

“You’re not mad?” Maximilian asked carefully, watching her expression as if bracing for a storm.

“They wanted to marry in their last life,” Catherine said quietly. “They loved each other deeply.” A beat passed. Then, softer but edged, she added, “And then your ambush at Glendale Forest killed her. It separated them.”

Maximilian’s hands clenched.

She thinks I killed her lady-in-waiting, too.

The thought hit like a blade.

She remembers nothing that matters.

Why did she forget the most important parts?

The ache in his chest sharpened, but alongside it, another realization hardened into certainty.

Someone had tampered with her memories.

One name surfaced in his mind with cold clarity.

Dorian.

“Catherine,” he said gently, reaching for her hand.

She looked at him, startled by the seriousness in his voice.

“Has Bernice ever touched your bracelet?” he asked. “If she does… it might trigger her memories. Of her past life. Sebastian’s too.”

Alexander had remembered after touching it.

There was an ambush laid by him, knowing Katerina would be there. But he met Bernice that night in the forest. He remembered her terror, her running, and the way he had tried and failed to protect her.

If Bernice remembered, she could tell Catherine the truth. Catherine would believe Bernice.

Fragile and bright hope flickered in his chest.

Catherine’s gaze dropped to the bracelet on her wrist.

Her past life had been filled with pain, betrayal, loss.

Why should she drag Bernice and Sebastian back into that darkness… when they had already found each other again? When they were finally happy?

“They don’t need that,” she said softly. “They should look forward, not back.”

Maximilian’s fingers tightened involuntarily.

The hope that had begun to bloom withered before it could even take root.

Catherine drew in a breath, steadying herself. “When will you be free on Wednesday?” she asked. “I need to meet Dorian Blackwood.”

Maximilian went still.

“Meet him?” he repeated, his voice dropping, a pale tension creeping across his face.

Her husband from their previous life… The one man he did not want her anywhere near.

Why would she run to him this life too? Even after he tried his best to stay, why would she go to him for anything?

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