Chapter 503: A Difficult Decision

Time flowed swiftly after the birth of little Liam, as though the seasons themselves were eager to watch the boy grow. Marcus and Serah found themselves wrapped in a warmth they had never known before—a quiet, unshakable joy that came from watching their son breathe, laugh, and cry. Their days were painted in soft colors of peace: morning sunlight spilling through the window onto the wooden floor, the scent of fresh bread, and the sound of Liam’s laughter echoing through the small house in Beaufield. Life had never been kinder to them.

The village itself seemed to celebrate the boy’s existence. Old women adored pinching his chubby cheeks, and children often gathered near the house, eager to make the baby smile. Marcus had grown softer, his once-steeled expression replaced by the easy calm of a father who had finally found something to protect beyond himself. And Serah—gods, Serah glowed. Motherhood had given her a new kind of beauty, one that shone in her every gesture. Whether it was the gentle way she held Liam close to her chest or how her laughter danced in the air whenever Marcus tripped over a toy left on the floor, every piece of her radiated peace.

But even with all this happiness, Serah carried something quietly heavy in her heart. As Liam grew—each giggle, each stumble, each wide-eyed gaze—he began to resemble Marcus more and more. He had his father’s spark, the same mischief behind his eyes even before he could walk. He was full of energy, restless and curious, always trying to grab Marcus’s hair or bite his finger whenever he lifted him. And though Marcus pretended to groan about it, the smile he wore gave him away every single time.

Yet, what truly made Serah smile was how much her son adored her. Liam was inseparable from her—his tiny hands always reaching for her hair, his soft cries instantly soothed the moment he was in her arms. It was sweet, but it worried her too. She remembered what Billy once said about Marcus being a “momma’s boy” when he was young, how he’d never let go of his mother’s dress and would burst into tears the moment she stepped away. Seeing Liam act the same way now, Serah’s heart both melted and trembled. She couldn’t let her son depend on her too much… not when she knew that soon, she’d have to make a choice—a painful one.

So, with quiet determination, Serah began encouraging the bond between Marcus and Liam. She would often leave them alone together, saying she had errands to run, even when she didn’t. Marcus, though initially uncertain, quickly grew into his role. He’d sit on the floor, tossing a little wooden toy for Liam to chase, or hum old folk songs that his own mother once sang to him. Liam adored it. The boy would giggle uncontrollably whenever Marcus made faces at him, tiny fingers tugging at his father’s hair. The sight filled Serah’s heart with a bittersweet peace—her family was whole, happy, and safe.

But peace never lasts forever.

As the months slipped away and Liam reached eleven months old, Serah knew the time had come. The decision she had tried so hard to ignore now loomed like a shadow in her mind. She couldn’t stay any longer—not when danger still lingered in Ilis, not when whispers of her past threatened the safety of her child. The only way to secure Liam’s future was to return to the very place she had fled from.

When she told Marcus, his reaction was unlike any she had ever seen before. For the first time, his composure cracked. His voice trembled—not with anger, but fear. He didn’t want her to go. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing her, not after everything they had built together. There was a heaviness in his chest that words couldn’t express—a deep, unspoken dread. Because deep down, Marcus had a feeling… a terrible, gnawing feeling that if Serah walked away, he might never see her again.

But Serah’s eyes, though soft, were resolute. She didn’t need to explain why—Marcus already knew. And though every part of him screamed to stop her, to hold her and never let go, he didn’t. Because he loved her enough to understand.

So, together, they left Beaufield. Their small home, filled with laughter and love, faded behind them as they made their way back through the familiar paths of the tranquil Tnaji forest. The scent of pine and earth filled the air, and the whispers of the wind seemed to echo memories of the lives they had built there. When they arrived at Billy’s cabin, the old man greeted them with a knowing look in his eyes.

Serah told him everything—her reasons, her fears, her resolve. Billy listened in silence, his weathered face betraying no surprise. When she was done, he simply nodded, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. Like his son, he didn’t try to change her mind. He only wished her safety and the strength to come back home when it was all over.

Days passed quietly after that. Serah spent every moment she could with Marcus and Liam, cherishing the sound of her son’s laughter and the warmth of her lover’s embrace. Each smile, each small moment became something she wanted to remember forever. But time, relentless as always, moved on. And one morning, with her heart heavier than it had ever been, Serah prepared herself to leave.

She said her farewells one by one—first to Billy, whose eyes glistened though he said nothing, and then to Marcus, the man who had given her everything she’d ever wanted. Their goodbye was wordless; it was in their eyes, their trembling hands, the quiet ache between their breaths. Finally, she knelt before Liam, who cooed softly, reaching for her hair as he always did. Serah’s heart broke all over again. She pressed a kiss to his forehead, whispering words of love he was too young to understand.

And then, with her cloak wrapped tightly around her and tears hidden behind her calm face, Serah turned and walked away into the forest, the faint echo of her footsteps fading beneath the rustling leaves.

Marcus stood there, holding Liam close to his chest, watching the woman he loved disappear beyond the trees—his heart silent, but his soul screaming. And in that moment, though he didn’t know it yet, the peace of Beaufield had ended, and a new story had begun.

***

As the sun hung high above the golden spires of Ilis, its light casting long shadows over the marble streets, Serah walked with measured steps toward the gates of the royal palace. The warmth of the day pressed gently against her skin, but her face remained still—serene and unreadable. Her cloak swayed softly with each step, the faint rhythm of her boots echoing against the stone.

As she neared the towering gates of gold and ivory, a line of armored knights shifted into motion. The moment she passed through the entrance, the metallic scrape of drawn weapons filled the air. Ten knights stepped forward, forming a ring around her in a perfect circle, their polished armor gleaming like fangs in the sunlight.

Serah stopped mid-step, her gaze slowly lifting to meet the faces hidden behind their helms. Her expression didn’t falter—only a faint frown curved her lips as her sharp eyes studied each one of them with quiet precision. The tension in the air was thick, heavy enough to still even the wind.

“What is the meaning of this?” she asked firmly, her voice calm yet carrying the weight of command that made even the seasoned knights hesitate for a moment.

One knight, clearly the leader, stepped forward. His voice was deep, formal, rehearsed. “Apologies, Lady Serah, but under direct order of His Majesty, the King, you are to be apprehended and taken into custody until further notice.”

A flicker of something unreadable passed through Serah’s eyes—surprise, perhaps sorrow, but gone too swiftly to name. She let out a faint sigh, one that carried the exhaustion of someone who had already foreseen this moment long before it came.

’I suppose I won’t have to explain too much after all,’ she thought silently, her gaze dropping for a brief instant. The faintest trace of emotion softened her face as she whispered inwardly, ’Gods above, please… watch over my son.’

Straightening her posture once more, Serah’s expression settled into one of quiet acceptance. Without resistance, she raised her hands slightly and allowed the knights to approach. The cold touch of their gauntlets closed around her wrists, the sound of clinking chains breaking the silence as they secured her arms.

Not a word escaped her lips as they began to escort her through the gates and into the palace grounds. The maids of the palace watched from afar—curious, fearful, whispering among themselves—but Serah kept her head held high, her steps unbroken.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep