Chapter 51
The sky deepened into a dusky blue as the sun dipped below the horizon. Elowen Howard slipped on a light cardigan before heading to the back room to wake her son, Cedric Edwards. As she entered, she discovered that he was already awake, his sleepy eyes gleaming with the innocent curiosity of a four–year–old.
Ignoring his soft protests, she carefully helped him into his shirt, adjusting his collar with a gentle pat to his head. “Did you sleep well, sweetie?”
Cedric nodded enthusiastically, his face lighting up. “Yeah! Really well.”
Afternoons seemed to wrap him in a comforting blanket of sleep, especially in his mother’s cozy quarters. Elowen found herself growing fonder of this boy every day; her patience increased tenfold just by being near him. “How about we wash your face and then have dinner together? Sound good?”
She always spoke to him as if weighing his opinion, striving to give him the respect he deserved.
“Good,” he replied, never once muttering a refusal or casting dissent.
His father rarely consulted him on anything, making decisions and then relaying them as if Cedric were a mere spectator in his own life. The boy used to think he loved his father more than his mother, but now his feelings were divided; if only they could stay like this forever.
With Janus–like innocence, he clasped Elowen’s hand tightly and blurted out, “Mom, will I have brothers and sisters someday?”
Cedric didn’t fear loneliness, but sometimes he envied the way his cousins gathered in joyful raucous. He yearned for little siblings he could play with and one day protect.
Elowen hesitated, the question stirring a bittersweet ache inside her. If only the main characters in this story were a loving couple, everything would be different. But alas, the truth was much darker–his father was ruthless, and she too had her demons.
Caught in his bright, guileless gaze, Elowen felt her heart soften like butter melting on warm toast. “Of course, sweetheart,” she murmured, with a hint of uncertainty.
Difficult to Escape a Doting Wife
But deep down, she knew that was a lie. Most likely, there would be no siblings.
In “The High Council,” even by the end, Alistair Edwards had not bore children with another woman, not even the main character. After watching countless stories unfold, Elowen had her theories. Perhaps Alistair was too attached to her, too reluctant to see her live through the pain of childbirth again, keeping any future children at bay.
Cedric beamed, his eyes narrowing into crescent moons. “I’ll be a great big brother!”
His enthusiasm caused a laugh to escape Elowen. “You’re going to be amazing, Cedric!”
His face flushed childishly, a shy grin creeping across his features.
As they sat down for dinner, Elowen could hardly resist the urge to load Cedric’s plate until he couldn’t eat another bite. She struggled to fathom how anyone could endure witnessing their child in pain, let alone ignore it. The mental image of a stepmother exhibiting such heartlessness haunted her thoughts.
Stirred by these reflections, Elowen nurtured a deeper affection for Cedric, coaxing him to finish his meal and then engaging him in games. As time passed, she summoned a person to draw a bath and decided to wash him herself.
But Cedric had other ideas. He clung tightly to his shirt buttons, cheeks flushed as he resisted her assistance. His face turned beet–red as he insisted on bathing alone.
Unable to argue against his stubbornness, Elowen relented but kept close, calling out his name to ensure he was safe inside. She couldn’t shake the nagging worry that he would cough and choke without her nearby.
With Alistair away from home, Elowen relished her newfound freedom, executing her whims without restraint. One night, she had the staff bring Cedric’s pajamas and bedding, settling him in her room for the night.
While preparing the bed, her gaze landed on the jade pendant she had placed beside her pillow. With caution, she lifted it, remembering it was something Alistair cherished, the only heirloom from his mother. She realized it should be locked away, safely tucked in a drawer, to avoid any misfortunes.
In Alistair’s absence Flowen found a new lightness in her life indulging in extra howls
Difficult to Escape a Doting Wife
sately tucked in a drawer, to avoid any misfortunes.
In Alistair’s absence, Elowen found a new lightness in her life, indulging in extra bowls of food and vibrant days. Mrs. Tristan Edwards seemed aware of the shift and continually invited her over for company, guiding her with gentle encouragement.
In the ensuing days, she bumped into Gareth Edwards several times, and their interactions felt strained, more like two strangers than siblings–in–law. Gareth had softened towards Elowen; after hearing she had refrained from causing havoc or embarrassing his brother, he was more willing to offer her a cordial nod.
But in Elowen’s eyes, he was still the petulant younger brother in need of guidance. She had no desire to engage with him, especially given the recent turmoil he’d just begun to navigate.
Gareth, irritated by her indifference, dismissed her once and for all, tossing down his chopsticks in frustration before storming out. Tristan’s mother sighed, exasperated by her son’s childish antics.
Weeks slid by until Alistair finally returned from Quinton. His arrival was later than expected; Elowen only heard whispers of mishaps along the way.
A tight knot of anxiety twisted in her stomach; had the main character intruded upon his journey, holding him up with their flirtations?
When Alistair’s carriage finally pulled up, the damp chill of the air seemed to absorb the warmth. When the door swung open, he emerged alone.
Elowen blinked in disbelief. Where was the woman supposed to accompany him?
Alistair’s complexion was sickly pale, and he coughed a few times, smirking at her confusion. “Looking for someone?”
She shook her head fiercely. “No, nothing!”
He beckoned her closer, waving her over. Help me, will you?”
Worry washed over her. “What happened? Are you hurt?”
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Difficult to Escape a Doting Wife
