You Are Gentle, But You Don’t Love Me - Chapter 22

The bedroom she had finally gathered the courage to visit was silent.

Knock, knock, knock.

When no response came, Juliet hesitated briefly before cautiously opening the door.

If he’s asleep, it would be rude to disturb him…

But if she turned back now, she wasn’t sure she’d find the courage to return.

“…”

Yet beyond the door, the room was empty.

“Your Grace?”

She lingered uncertainly, pacing the room for several minutes before Juan appeared—not Cassio.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to see the Duke. But…”

“…Pardon?”

Juliet glanced around the empty room once more before turning back to Juan, who now wore a puzzled expression.

“You haven’t seen him? He left early this morning.”

“Where…? Wait, is it safe for him to be out already?”

“A light walk should be fine. More importantly, he said he was going to see you.”

“…But I—”

She hadn’t seen him.

Even while she had stood at the bottom of the stairs, hesitating for so long.

Cassio must have left before her. There was only one staircase leading to the ducal couple’s quarters—if he had gone down, he must have passed through while she was still lost in thought below.

The realization left her strangely deflated.

While she had agonized over whether to see him, he had already been on his way.

She exhaled a long sigh, releasing the lip she hadn’t realized she had been biting.

“If he returns, tell him we need to talk later.”

“Understood.”

She turned to leave, but then—

“Juan.”

“Yes?”

The words slipped out before she could stop them.

“…Do you know why he hid his injury?”

She felt foolish as soon as she asked.

It was nothing. She should have just left.

She was about to wave it off and turn away when Juan suddenly chuckled.

“Ha… My, oh my.”

“Why—why are you laughing?”

Juliet flushed.

Had he somehow guessed the ridiculous thoughts racing through her mind?

She fidgeted awkwardly, waiting for Juan to stop laughing.

“No, it’s just… How should I put this?”

“What is it?”

Juan let out a long sigh, as if gathering his thoughts.

“…He had his reasons.”

When he finally spoke, Juliet stood frozen, staring blankly at him.

It took a moment for the meaning of his words to sink in.

Then her face turned bright red.

“…Your Grace?”

Juliet didn’t answer. She spun on her heel and stormed out of the room.

Bang!

The door slammed shut behind her, followed by Juan’s startled voice calling after her.

But she didn’t care.

Juliet practically flew down the stairs.

Is he insane?!

Furious, she quickened her pace.

Cassio Bellanea had almost died.

Even though he miraculously survived, his right shoulder bone had been shattered. Worse, when it hadn’t set properly, they had to break it again to fix it.

And then, before it had even healed properly, he had boarded a ship.

After arriving in Sardinia, he had rested for only three days.

Juan had been right—if he hadn’t been born with such an absurdly strong constitution, he wouldn’t have just collapsed from a fever. He might not have survived at all.

Nevertheless—

Despite everything—

He had hidden it from her.

He had smiled as if nothing was wrong.

“Hah… Hah…”

Her breath caught in her throat, but she didn’t stop.

Her heart pounded loudly, but another sound filled her ears—Juan’s words from earlier.

“He said he wanted to drink tea with you.”

This was ridiculous.

“To dine with you, to dance, to ride horses together… That’s why he hid it.”

How—how could he say that?

How could that possibly be his reason?

“I…”

She remembered the way he had sometimes furrowed his brows, as if in discomfort.

The bitter scent of medicine that lingered when she stood too close.

The searing warmth of his body against hers.

The way he had collapsed on the beach before her, too weak to even cry out.

Every single moment was painfully vivid.

“I… How much…”

A nameless emotion churned in her chest.

Was she angry?

Hurt?

Worried?

Maybe all three.

Ever since Cassio had collapsed in front of her, she had felt this way.

She had just been holding it back.

But now—

Now, she couldn’t hold it back anymore.

She needed to see him.

To demand an answer.

To yell at him.

Did he have any idea how much she had worried?

Did he understand what he had put her through?

All for such a ridiculous reason?

“…Hic.”

Panting, Juliet came to an abrupt stop as she reached the covered walkway leading to the back garden.

“Rain…”

At some point, the sky had opened up.

Raindrops pattered softly against the stone path.

But she didn’t turn back.

She didn’t call for a maid.

Instead, she took a step forward.

He’s there.

The place where they always walked together.

The gazebo where they had once stood, side by side, watching the sunlit garden.

Cassio would be there, waiting out the rain.

She could find her way there with her eyes closed.

The rain was cool, but not unbearable.

Even if it was—

I have to go.

Juliet stepped forward.

She crossed the stone path lined with cypress trees, passed beneath the pomegranate tree, and rounded the worn wooden bench beneath the orange tree.

Ahead of her, just past the small fountain—

Cassio would be there.

Raindrops rippled across the restless surface of the water, forming concentric circles that expanded outward. One by one, the falling droplets left their fleeting imprints.

Before she knew it, those same round traces dotted Juliet’s cheeks, her shoulders.

She paid no mind and kept walking.

The scent of rain-soaked grass and rich earth mingled with the damp fragrance of flowers, wrapping around her as she moved forward.

And there, in the distance—

“…”

Under the silver-streaked rainfall stood a figure.

His red hair, which gleamed gold in the sunlight, lay damp against his forehead. His skin—pale against the stark contrast of his dark, loose-fitting shirt—was marred only by the blue-tinted bandages wrapped tightly around his shoulder.

His gaze was tilted toward the sky, one hand outstretched to catch the falling rain.

“Cassio Bellanea.”

The droplets scattered like silver dust around him.

For a brief moment, it was an achingly beautiful sight, like something from a painting.

But now was not the time to stand there admiring it.

Cassio was standing in the rain—despite the covered gazebo just steps away.

Juliet strode toward him, her pace quickening with each step.

“…Juliet?”

Noticing her presence, Cassio turned toward her.

But before he could fully face her, she reached for his hand, grasping it without hesitation.

Without a word, she pulled him along. Though he was much larger than her, his body yielded easily, allowing himself to be led.

Juliet climbed the gazebo steps briskly—nothing like their usual slow, measured strolls—and whirled around the moment they were under cover.

Their eyes met.

Ah…

She regretted it instantly.

She shouldn’t have looked at him—not today, not now.

“Hello, Juliet.”

He greeted her the same way he always did, with the same faint smile in his eyes.

Yet something about it was different.

His long lashes, damp with rain, cast shadows beneath his pale green eyes. The water clinging to his white cheeks shimmered like silver.

Perhaps it was the clouded look in his gaze, the quiet heaviness behind it, but for the briefest moment—he truly looked pained.

“…Why were you standing in the rain?”

The anger that had burned within her vanished, as if it had never been there.

“You’re completely drenched.”

But the sorrow, the sadness, and the quiet ache in her heart remained.

Her voice, barely above a whisper, carried a faint tremor—just like the moisture lingering at the corners of his eyes.

Juliet lifted her hand instinctively before realizing she was still holding his.

“You’re soaked too, Juliet. Aren’t you cold?”

“I’m fine.”

She loosened her grip, and their entwined fingers unraveled.

But only for a moment.

Cassio’s hand caught hers once more, gently wrapping around it as if handling something fragile.

“Your hands are freezing. You’ll catch a cold.”

A slight shake would have been enough to pull away.

Yet she didn’t.

A heavy weight settled in her chest.

The storm of emotions that had raged inside her was now cold, like rainwater seeping into the earth.

But still, it overflowed.

She was grateful for the rain.

At least now, no one would be able to tell whether the wetness on her cheeks was from the sky or from her own eyes.

Lowering her head, Juliet bit her lip.

She had been doing it often these past few days—enough that the delicate skin had turned raw and tender. A sharp sting shot through her mouth.

“…Ah.”

Unfortunately—or perhaps, fortunately—Cassio did not let it go unnoticed.

A warm hand cupped her damp cheek, his fingers tilting her chin upward.

His thumb brushed over her lip, pressing against the irritated skin.

A small whimper escaped her throat.

“That must hurt,” he murmured. “Why do you keep doing this to yourself?”

“…”

“When you’re in pain, Juliet… I feel it too.”

His gaze, still heavy with rain, held hers.

Droplets slipped down his red hair, no longer catching the sunlight but instead falling, cold and quiet.

Water ran down his forehead, trickling toward his eyes, making him blink against the sting.

It almost looked like he was trying to suppress pain.

As if, somehow, he had taken her pain upon himself.

But—

No, that’s not it.

Cassio Bellanea’s pain did not come from her.

It came from something much deeper, something far beyond her reach.

Something rooted in memories she could never know.

In loss.

“…What about you?”

“Hmm?”

Yet where did his kindness come from?

“You’re the one who’s hurting more than I am.”

She held his gaze.

“You’re still in pain—even now.”

“…”

“This much pain…”

And yet, despite everything—despite the agony he carried—he was still more concerned about her.

Where did such kindness come from?

What had shaped it?

What had made him into this man?