You Are Gentle, But You Don’t Love Me - Chapter 13

And Then, Seventeen Again, Early Summer

The night before Rosalyn and Romeo’s wedding, Juliet could not fall asleep.

“Sigh…”

Through the slightly drawn curtain, the bright light illuminating every corner of the night shimmered faintly.
The light came from preparations for Rosalyn and Romeo’s wedding.

‘Rosalyn Calliari! Is it true?’
‘What are you referring to, Duke Calliari?’

‘Rosalyn, the Duke says that you… that… in Arborea…’

Late last summer, Rosalyn Calliari and Romeo Arborea had become lovers — in a very public and uproarious way, ensuring that no one could object to their love.

‘Yes, that’s true.’

The bold, young lovers made no effort to hide their affection for one another.

‘Oh, Rosalyn. Quickly, tell them it’s not true. What is this all about, hm?’

‘How could I deny it? It’s the truth.’

As a result, Sardinia — specifically, the Calliari and Arborea families — was thrown into chaos.

‘Duke, no, Father. I love Romeo Arborea.’

‘…You’ve done this on purpose, haven’t you?’
‘I’m sorry. But I wanted to be with him as soon as possible.’

But there was no way to forcibly separate such proud and passionate lovers.

Besides, it had already been decided that Calliari and Arborea would unite through their children.

‘Fine. It will happen as you wish. Marry him.’
‘But, darling…’

‘There’s nothing else we can do now.’

Thus, Rosalyn and Romeo’s wedding was swiftly arranged.

The two families condensed years’ worth of procedures into less than a year. All that remained were the nuptial mass, the wedding, and the banquet.

“Ugh… ah…”

Juliet pressed her temples, biting her lip hard. Her head throbbed from crying too much.

“Sniff.”

Even after crying so much, tears continued to flow.

She resented the glowing lights beyond her blurry vision. If only the world were enveloped in darkness, she might have been able to cry freely.

But the flickering lanterns outside the window relentlessly reminded her of reality. She could no longer deny it.
‘But…’

Acknowledging it didn’t mean she could accept it.
‘Why?’

Why did Rosalyn Calliari choose Romeo Arborea?
She had countless other options.

As the heir to the Calliari Dukedom, with the wealth, honor, beauty, and lively charm that came with it, Rosalyn had men who admired and adored her.

She possessed everything Juliet lacked from birth and had grown to claim even more.

‘So, just once, just one thing.’

Romeo Arborea — that one thing — she could have left to Juliet.
‘The only thing that was mine.’

Romeo Arborea had originally been Juliet Calliari’s fiancé since they were five and seven years old.

It was agreed: Rosalyn would inherit Calliari, Romeo Arborea would inherit Arborea, and Juliet would marry Romeo to become the Marchioness of Arborea.

‘You promised…’

“Sniff…”

But promises didn’t matter. Their engagement was now meaningless.

On the night before the wedding of the people she loved most, Juliet cried silently until dawn.

The next day, however, at the wedding, she smiled brighter than anyone else and congratulated their union. It wasn’t out of pride or defiance.

Juliet sincerely wished them a long and happy life together.
That, too, was something she couldn’t help. Just as Romeo’s love for Rosalyn was something inevitable.

“Juliet, what’s with your eyes? Have you been crying?”

On the day of her marriage to the man she loved so much that she abandoned her position as the heir, Rosalyn rushed to Juliet as soon as she arrived at the banquet hall, leaving the groom awkwardly standing behind her.

“Just a little.”

“Are you that sad to see me go?”

Her playful tone belied the near-tears expression on her face.
“Don’t cry, Juliet. Arborea isn’t that far. I’ll visit often.”
It was impossible not to love her.

“Even if we’re apart, don’t forget. I’ll always be on your side.”

As the soft whisper reached her ears, Juliet closed her eyes.
To say she didn’t resent her would be a lie.

‘But…’

“Rosalyn Calliari.”
Before being an object of resentment, she was Juliet’s friend from birth.
She was always a shield, stepping forward to protect Juliet.
A lighthouse that brought Juliet out from the shadows into the bright light.

“My beloved sister.”
She couldn’t help but love her.

Her beloved sister, who always called Juliet, so lacking and inferior by comparison, with such affection.

Perhaps even more deeply, even more passionately than she loved Romeo.

“Are you happy?”

“…Yes.”

“Good.”

So Juliet Buried Her Resentment Deep in Her Heart
Juliet carefully hid her resentment deep within her heart, wishing for Rosalyn Calliari—now Rosalyn Arborea—to be happier than anyone else.

She extended her arms and gently embraced her.
“Be happy from now on.”

“Yes…”

As Rosalyn began to sob softly, Juliet stroked her back tenderly, lost in thought.

Hatred, resentment, envy, jealousy—

“I’ll handle all those burdensome and painful emotions myself…”

My beloved sister, live happily and always smile in the place you chose.

But hatred, resentment, envy, and jealousy…
Those feelings were far sharper and more painful than Juliet had ever imagined.

Juliet left the hall as if fleeing, walking briskly.
She had used her shoes as an excuse, but there was nothing wrong with them. She had just needed to escape.

She didn’t know where she was or where she was going, only that she had to keep moving forward.
Anywhere would do.

“As long as I can be alone, anywhere is fine.”

She had walked for who knows how long when the fiery sunset that painted the sky began to fade. The radiant colors dissolved into faint traces, and the blue darkness crept in like a rising tide.
Only then did Juliet come to a stop.

“Where is this…”

Looking around, she finally realized where she was.
“The garden.”

The Rogudoro Castle stood atop a sheer cliff overlooking the sea, unlike other Sardinian noble residences, which were built at a safe distance from the waters.

Their family, having originated from the Paspari pirates of old Sardinia, feared neither pirates nor invaders.

And so, from the garden of Rogudoro Castle—
“The sea…”

It stretched endlessly below.

Juliet pushed through the foliage, moving closer to the cliff’s edge, as if drawn by an unseen force. Step by step, until she leaned against the fence perched at the cliff’s brink.

“…Wow.”

An involuntary gasp escaped her lips.

She had thought the sun had already set, swallowed by the encroaching darkness.

But when she raised her head to gaze at the horizon…
The farthest edge of the sky was a mysterious violet hue, with massive clouds glowing red as if they had absorbed the last remnants of the sunset.

The sea near the horizon shimmered crimson, as if mirroring the burning clouds or holding the sun’s fading warmth.

A faint golden line stretched across, dividing the sky and sea—a glimmering path that spanned from one end of her sight to the other.

The light, delicate and fleeting, seemed ready to sink beneath the waves at any moment, its glow barely lingering on the distant horizon.

“It’s beautiful.”

Juliet murmured absentmindedly as she gazed at the sea, a faint laugh escaping her lips. To think she could still admire the scenery at a time like this.

But the sight before her was undeniably breathtaking, overwhelming in its beauty for just a fleeting moment.

For a while, it erased the tears threatening to spill, the shallow breaths caught in her throat, and the chaotic thoughts swirling in her mind.

“It really is beautiful.”

Murmuring words to no one, Juliet stared blankly at the horizon.
The wind picked up. The sea breeze sweeping over the cliff at dusk playfully tossed her soft, curly, light-brown hair.
How long had she stood there?

“It’s fine.”

Her restless mind slowly began to settle, little by little, bit by bit.

“It will be fine.”

Not yet, perhaps. But someday.

Juliet stood there for a long time, oblivious to her tangled hair, as the distant golden light disappeared beneath the sea and the crimson glow faded from the clouds and the waves.

Eventually, the world was cloaked in darkness. She wasn’t disappointed. Even as the distant light that had comforted her vanished.

“The sun doesn’t truly set,” someone had once said.

It simply rests below the surface, closing its eyes for a while.
“There’s no need to lament the setting sun or fear the coming night.”

Who had said those words? A philosopher? A line from a novel? Perhaps a phrase from a childhood fable?

No.

It was something someone had whispered into her ear, back when she was a little girl, afraid of the darkened nights as the sun disappeared.

Someone who had hesitated yet comforted her so gently.
“Romeo Arborea…”

It was him…

“Well.”

The sudden sound of a voice startled Juliet, making her turn around.

“It’s not him. I’m sorry.”
“…?”

“But I’m your husband, Juliet.”

Standing where the vanished sunset had once been was a man with flaming red hair.

“Hello.”