You Said You Wanted Us to Break Up - Chapter 115

The Lathilde Boutique, which I was visiting after a long time, was still a space where the owner’s sincerity stood out.

At the entrance of the shop, where every minor detail showed signs of personal care, Lathilde greeted me with a bright smile.

“Hello, my lady.”

Demian, who followed me inside, corrected her with a triumphant air.

“You should call her Count Resebel. She has succeeded to the title.”

I have no idea why he was the one acting proud. I spoke to Lathilde, who watched us both with her smile intact.

“Call me whatever is comfortable. Inheriting a title doesn’t mean my surname has disappeared.”

I have never once been proud of being my father’s daughter.

However, Rowen consisted of more than just my father.

The current Rowen belongs to Iswen.

While it was a house with too many accumulated memories to love purely, I didn’t want to erase it from my life.

After all, my family is here.

“Then I shall call you ‘Countess’,” Lathilde said, settling the title neatly with a wide smile. “I feel that suits you much better.”

Demian chimed in quickly from my side.

“Exactly. It’s much better to be called by your own name than to be someone’s daughter or someone’s wife.”

It wasn’t a wrong statement, but it was quite a fascinating one coming from Demian’s mouth. I glanced back at him and asked lightly,

“You’ll never be someone’s daughter or wife, so how do you know so well?”

“Because you’re my sister,” Demian answered without a moment’s hesitation. “I want you to be well, and when I thought about it from your perspective, it seemed like that would be the case….”

As his voice trailed off, the tips of Demian’s ears turned red. His face clearly showed that he had become embarrassed belatedly while speaking.

I likely didn’t look much better than he did.

Even now, I found myself flustered every time words showing that he cared for me came out of Demian’s mouth. If I had to label it, it was a pleasant sort of confusion, but receiving such warmth was still so unfamiliar that I kept acting stiffly. At the very least, my face wasn’t burning—or so I hoped.

As I hesitated, unsure of how to respond, Lathilde, who had been watching us, led me away with a practiced smile.

“We have your records on file, but since it’s been a while, let’s start by taking your measurements again.”

After the measurements were taken, I headed toward the sofa area to choose some fabrics. Demian was already there, hunched over something spread out on the table. He looked up and beckoned me over. As soon as I sat down beside him, he tilted the fabric sample book toward me as if he’d been waiting.

“Look at this. Isn’t it pretty?”

The fabric he was pointing at was a gorgeous silk, clearly intended for a Southern-style dress. I glanced over the silk, which looked like it would make a crisp, rustling sound at the slightest touch, and agreed.

“It is.”

“And if you flip it over like this… see? They’ve attached a warm lining.”

Demian lifted the silk with his fingers to show me the underside, which was layered with velvet. Having seen this kind of fabric once before, I wasn’t particularly shocked, but I nodded along to match his enthusiasm.

“It looks like it will be warm.”

Just then, Lathilde arrived with a selection of fabrics based on the requirements I had requested. She placed them on the table and spoke.

“It’s a style that has been very popular lately among those traveling to the Central or Northern regions. You can maintain the aesthetic of Southern trends while benefiting from excellent insulation.”

She added kindly, “It’s much warmer than the older method of simply layering silk linings.”

“It’s been trendy recently?”

I murmured, looking down at the velvet backing hidden behind the ornate silk. It was unexpected news.

“I thought it had been around for several years.”

The dresses Sioden had shown me back at Raslet were designs from a few years ago, yet they had already been made with this specific fabric.

“Ah, if you are referring to the garments ordered by Duke Raslet… that style hadn’t been released to the market yet back then.”

Lathilde explained quickly, catching on to my thought, and gave a small, knowing smile.

“His Grace requested that I ensure the trend didn’t spread too quickly.”

“And you just didn’t release the clothes because of that?”

Demian, who had been listening from the side, interjected abruptly. It wasn’t that he was truly curious; rather, it was obvious he was displeased that Sioden’s name had been brought up. However, Lathilde skillfully brushed off his grumpy remark.

“It was a style created because of a suggestion he provided, after all.”

Lathilde added as she smoothed out the fabric on the table, “Velvet is a luxury material, so it had only been used for the exterior until then. But Duke Raslet specifically wanted it used as a lining from the very beginning. That’s how this fabric came to be.”

Hearing that, a question formed in my mind.

“When exactly did he order those clothes?”

“Since he commissioned them at the same time we were making your wedding dress, it has been over three years.”

That meant he must have placed the order around the same time I did.

Suddenly, I remembered the day I came here to be fitted for my wedding dress and ran into Sioden. Perhaps that was when he had commissioned those clothes for me from Lathilde.

Honestly, it was a bit difficult to understand.

Clothes intended for the North would have been perfectly fine made of just velvet. After all, everyone in the North wore clothes made of such materials anyway. In fact, that’s exactly what I did while I lived there.

Even so, what was Sioden thinking when he went out of his way to order dresses that looked like Southern clothing?

I was chewing over this useless curiosity—one that served no purpose anymore—when Demian spoke from beside me.

“If you like it, you should get a few made too.”

“There’s no need for that.”

I shook my head and pulled my gaze away from the fabric I had been staring at without realizing.

“After all, I have no reason to go anywhere cold enough to wear clothes like this.”

My estate, Resebel, was located even further south than the capital. Even Emerta, where I planned to travel someday, was a Southern kingdom where the temperature never dropped below a certain point all year round.

Demian listened to me quietly and nodded.

—

After returning home that day, I found myself dwelling on the words Lathilde had spoken.

“It was a style created because of a suggestion he provided, after all.”

A man who had never shown much interest in fashion went out of his way to specify the fabric to create those clothes. He even went as far as to silence the tailor so that similar styles wouldn’t become a trend.

Had he done this during our marriage, it wouldn’t have lingered in my mind quite like this. After all, there was a time when it felt like we might actually get along. Since we had even shared a kiss, I could have rationalized that he simply wanted to gift me thoughtful clothing.

But Sioden had ordered those clothes before we were even married.

“Since he commissioned them at the same time we were making your wedding dress, it has been over three years.”

Suddenly, the words he said as he left me in the bedroom on our wedding night came back to me.

‘I cannot believe anything you say.’

At that time, Sioden had tossed a brooch—the very symbol of our first meeting—into the fireplace. That act became the opening act of a marriage that felt like a pile of ash. The next morning, after seeing what he had thrown into the fire, I believed he had discarded that certain autumn day from his memories.

Perhaps, in that moment, what he was trying to burn wasn’t my heart, but his own.

Before my thoughts could spiral any deeper, I opened my desk drawer and pulled out a document I had kept for quite some time.

The annulment papers I had received from Raslet were written in plain language, ensuring that no legal jargon would be confusing or obscure.

I hadn’t noticed it in the past, but now that my lessons with Ian were well underway, the fact stood out to me naturally.

Since Sioden was the one who drafted the document, he was also the one who chose to elaborate on clauses that could have easily been summarized. At the very bottom of the paper—content I had read so many times I now knew it by heart—the signature of “Duke Raslet” was written in a clean, flawless hand.

The handwriting I had passed over countless times without a second thought caught my eye today.

What was Sioden feeling as he placed the final period on three years of marriage?

Just like his thoughts when he ordered those clothes for me, it was information that would be utterly useless even if I found out, yet I was curious. Before that curiosity could grow and force me to squeeze out a plausible excuse to satisfy it, I picked up my pen.

Regardless, the past is the past.

Sioden can no longer exist in my future.

That was the promise I made to myself when I left Raslet.

—

Afterward, I sent back the clothes I had borrowed from Sioden, along with a letter expressing my gratitude once more.

I also subtly hinted that I could extend an invitation to him if he wished for a gesture of thanks. After all, Iswen had said to call him to the Rowen estate next time, and I thought it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have a verbal conversation before officially filing the annulment papers.

However, the response that returned was a polite refusal.

[-I do not wish to burden you, so I shall accept your invitation only in spirit, with a grateful heart.]

The content was written in the same textbook-perfect handwriting as his signature on the annulment papers.

It wasn’t that I couldn’t understand his feelings.

An invitation could be burdensome. We were people destined to part ways, after all. I, too, felt that I would find it incredibly burdensome if I were formally invited by him.

If we met by chance, that would be unavoidable, but…

I already knew exactly what I had to do if I wanted to meet him “by chance.”