The End of a Fake Marriage

“The cats?”

Alexander didn’t come home until the next day. Gabriel told Renee that something had come up at work overnight and he wouldn’t be able to come home.

The rain was still falling, and the day was still dark, but Renee was no longer thinking about Alexander.

More important matters demanded her attention—the missing earring and the cats.

As soon as morning broke, Renee asked Mrs. Andrea and Rosa to help her search for the lost earring. Then, without delay, she headed straight to Josie Chambler’s annex.

“Well, I haven’t seen them all day either…”

Josie Chambler also admitted that she hadn’t seen any of the cats since the day before. That was strange.

Rain was a cat Renee had rescued after it had been hit by something in the rain. Perhaps due to trauma, the cat disliked rainy days. When it rained, it would invariably sleep in a corner of Renée’s room or rest on Josie Chambler’s lap.

“This is strange. Randy, have you seen the cats?”

“No, ma’am. Oh! Just in case, I’ll check the attic on the third floor.”

The third-floor attic was a favorite spot for the kittens.

After Mrs. Randy went to the attic, Josie Chambler gently stroked Renee’s shoulder, pulling her to sit beside him.

“Don’t worry too much. They’re probably curled up somewhere with the kittens, sleeping. With the weather like this, they wouldn’t have gone far.”

“…You’re probably right.”

Renee forced a smile, trying to brush off her concerns, but the unsettling feeling growing in the corner of her mind was impossible to ignore.

‘Could the rain…… be the problem?’

Renee stared out the window at the rain pouring down. It had been falling lightly since last night, but it was getting heavier.

Kaliba’s summer rain had a tendency to stop abruptly, then return with thunder and lightning.

It reminded her of two years ago, when she had first begun adjusting to the Chambler estate after their wedding.

Before she met Rain, before her grandmother’s presence became a problem; when everything in Kaliba felt strange and challenging, Alexander would disappear when it rained.

Later, Renee learned he would shut himself away in his study or stay holed up at the company, claiming his health worsened during rainy days. But at the time, she’d known nothing of this and had spent countless hours searching for him.

At first, she tried to endure it out of stubbornness, but after months of frustration, she finally confronted him.

“Stop disappearing without a word! You brought me here, so shouldn’t you take some responsibility for the relationship? In this strange place, you’re the only one I can rely on.”

“…You rely on me?”

“…Maybe a little.”

Alexander, wearing a weary expression, looked at her for a while before letting out a small laugh and agreeing.

From then on, Alexander kept Renee informed of his whereabouts. Yesterday, he’d left a note saying he’d be at work.

The smell of the rain-soaked trees suddenly brought back memories of yesterday.

The eyes that had been wet, the forehead covered in cold sweat, the dull voice.

Every detail of him recalled in her mind.

‘…When had Aleksandr started hating the rain?’

At that moment, Mrs. Randy, who had gone to the third floor attic to look for the cats, returned. Unfortunately, the cats were not there either.

Renee forced a composed smile, mindful of Josie Chambler’s gaze. Showing more anxiety would only burden the old woman.

“It can’t be helped. They might be in their room now. Or maybe Mrs. Andrea or Gabriel found them.”

“That’s right. Good thinking. But isn’t it getting chilly? How about a warm cup of tea?”

“Sounds good. And I’d love some sweet treats with it.”

Renee deliberately answered more cheerfully and sat down at a table with a good view of the outside. Soon after, Mrs. Randy returned with tea and snacks, prepared with her usual skill.

“Rain is such a nuisance for old folks like me. It’s just rain, but why does it make my whole body ache so much?”

“Don’t overexert yourself with exercise. And too much knitting will wear out your finger joints.”

“Exactly. I never thought I’d creak this much just from aging.”

The two shared a cup of cold tea and talked about trivial things that had happened.

When the cold tea was almost empty, Rene, who had been hesitating, asked carefully.

“I have a question. If you know the answer, could you tell me?”

Josie Chambler, setting down her teacup, looked at Renee with a smile that seemed to promise she’d answer anything. Taking a deep breath, Renee gathered her courage and asked, “Do you happen to know why Alexander feels unwell when it rains?”

The old man hesitated, looking at Renee. Countless emotions flickered across his wrinkled face.

“So, he hasn’t told you that story.”

The old woman’s blue-gray eyes, muttering as if she was sighing, turned to look out the window.

She stared at it for a long moment, until she heard the second hand of a clock tick, and then spoke.

“As you may know, Aleksandr was the one who found his mother, Blair, after she hanged herself. It was on the very day her son came home from leave. On that cruel day, she chose to end her life in such a heartless manner.”

There was one story Renee knew and one she didn’t know.

It was a well-known tragedy that Alexander was the first person to witness Blair’s tragedy. But the next words were new to Renee.

“the day he returned from leave”

The phrase felt like a thorn in her heart. Why?

But before Renee could dwell on it, Josie Chambler continued.

“And it was raining that day—just like this. There was thunder, and there was lightning. By the time the household heard the scream and rushed to the room, it was far too late.”

Josie closed his eyes for a moment.

Even her old, fading mind could recall that day so vividly. How much more vivid would it be for that bright, sharp boy?

“No! No, please! Mother!”

The heart-wrenching cry of an immature child. Despair. Regret. Anger. Sorrow.

…And fear.

The boy, desperately clinging to the lifeless legs hanging in the air, wailing in a way that blurred the line between an animal’s cry and a human’s plea.

“The rain, the thunder, the strange music, and the cries…it was a day filled with so many sounds. For some, it became an unforgettable nightmare.”

Gunther Chambler silenced the servants, carefully managing the situation to prevent the truth from leaking out and to protect Blair’s reputation from being tarnished by suicide. But the story eventually leaked.

— The suicide of the noble Marchioness! —

— The Heartless Mother Who Ended Her Life Before Her Son’s Eyes, Blair Chambler! —

(A woman with the rank of a marquess or the wife (or widow) of a marquess is a marchioness)

Sensational articles flooded the media. It was unclear where the sources came from, but the reports were both detailed and disturbingly indifferent.

The press became a blade, and the public’s attention became a fist, clawing and crushing sixteen-year-old Alexander, who had lost his mother.

Renee also remembered the articles from that time.

The media ruthlessly published stories about Blair’s depression, her debilitating neuroses, the damage she had done to Bearson Chambler’s reputation, and the deterioration of his appearance.

Vulgar and filthy words overflowed. Articles that purported to sympathize with Alexander, while simultaneously mocking and belittling him, were published daily.

At that time, Renee couldn’t stand it. She immediately sent letters of protest to every media outlet she could find.
How many did she write? It was so long ago that she doesn’t remember exactly, but it must have been over twenty.

After that, she carefully selected her favorite scented oil and applied it to pristine white stationery, filling the pages with beautiful, rare words she cherished most, sending them to Alexander.

[Don’t let those words hurt you.]
[There are so many good words to surround you with.]
[“I’ll send you the most beautiful language I know.]
[…Stay strong.]
[None of this is your fault, Sasha.]

She continued writing letters like that for a year, sending one whenever she thought of him.

She never received a reply. But that was alright. It was understandable, given the circumstances. Some of the letters might have been lost. It didn’t matter. If even one letter, even one time, offered him comfort, it was worth it.

Then, when she heard the news of the fire, she gathered her courage and went to Kaliba, but she was kicked out without even stepping inside the mansion. She was turned away at the gates with a curt note from him.

“Enough.”

Returning to Whitehall, she found a reply, one she’d never received in the past year.

“Stop”

In that short, concise sentence, she finally let go of the feelings she had cherished for so long. Looking back, it was a wound she could have avoided if she hadn’t initiated things. She was the one who wrote the letters first; she was the one who went to see him without a word after hearing about the fire. He hadn’t asked for help or comfort; it was all her doing, because she wanted to, because he was hurting.

…And she ended up hurting herself.

Renee smiled bitterly and sipped her cold tea. The past was already past. She had moved on from her clumsy, immature first love. That was all it had been.

Yet Alexander’s past seemed to linger far more deeply. His past echoed through his heart, echoing countless gunshots that hadn’t ceased. Maybe, whenever it rained, the trigger of those memories pulled.

After a brief tea time with Josie Chambler, Renee returned to her room. Sitting by the window seat, she stared out at the relentless rain falling outside.

The rain outside the window was no longer the same as yesterday.