Chapter 320 - He is my wife

Chapter 320: Chapter 320 - He is my wife

Ryan walked into his study and shut the door behind him.

Only after the heavy wooden door closed did the expression on his face finally change.

He stood there for a moment in silence, his hand still resting against the door. His jaw was tight, and his brows were drawn together as he stared at nothing in particular. The image of Eric lying motionless on the bed refused to leave his mind.

Blood.

There had been so much blood.

Ryan’s fingers slowly curled into fists.

He had seen countless people wounded on the battlefield. He had watched soldiers bleed in front of him, watched men lose their lives beneath his command, and had long since learned how to keep his emotions under control when faced with death.

Yet the sight of Eric covered in blood had shaken him in a way he couldn’t understand.

He walked toward the table and poured himself a cup of wine.

He drank it in one go.

Then he poured another.

And another.

The wine burned down his throat, but it did little to quiet his thoughts. Instead, every sip seemed to make the image in his mind clearer. Eric’s pale face. His bloodstained clothes. His weak breathing. The way his body had gone completely limp in Ryan’s arms.

Ryan slammed the cup down harder than he intended.

He hadn’t expected the princess to act without his knowledge.

He knew she disliked the marriage. He knew she had been following him around since they were young and had never hidden how she felt about him. But he hadn’t expected her to actually poison Eric.

And more importantly...

He hadn’t expected himself to react like that.

The moment he had seen Eric collapse, he hadn’t thought about the political consequences. He hadn’t thought about the princess, the Emperor, or the marriage arrangement.

He had simply panicked.

Ryan poured himself another cup.

His gaze remained fixed on the wine as he slowly swirled it.

Why?

Why had he cared so much?

Eric was an enemy prince.

That was what he was supposed to remember.

Eric was the prince of a defeated kingdom, someone Ryan should have regarded with caution. Their marriage existed because the Emperor wanted to suppress him and keep him under control. It was nothing more than a political arrangement.

So why had Ryan’s heart hurt so badly when he saw Eric lying silently on the bed?

He drank again.

The warmth of the wine spread through his chest, but the strange ache remained.

Ryan leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

He tried to think of a reason.

What was it about Eric?

Was it his shamelessness?

His endless complaints?

The way he could turn almost anything into a joke?

The way he had looked at Ryan without the slightest fear, even when he was clearly annoyed with him?

Or perhaps it was the way Eric had smiled when Ryan brought him the candied fruit.

Ryan’s eyes slowly opened.

He remembered that moment.

Eric had looked so pleased when he realized Ryan had actually brought him what he wanted. He had been sitting there smugly, as though winning a tiny battle against Ryan was the greatest achievement in the world.

Ryan’s fingers tightened around the cup.

He had thought Eric was troublesome.

He still was.

But somewhere along the way, that trouble had become something he found himself looking for.

Something he had begun to expect.

Something he had started to enjoy.

Ryan swallowed another mouthful of wine.

Then his thoughts wandered somewhere he had never allowed them to go before.

He imagined Eric lying on the bed again, except this time the blood was gone. He imagined sitting beside him, pulling him into his arms and holding him close until that pale face regained its color.

His throat tightened.

He wanted to hold him.

He wanted to press a kiss against those pale lips.

The thought came so naturally that Ryan froze.

His hand stopped halfway to his mouth.

He stared at the cup in silence.

There were other things he wanted too.

Things he had never imagined wanting with another man.

He wanted Eric beside him when he woke. He wanted to hear him complain over breakfast, wanted to see that irritating smile, wanted to watch him wander around the residence and cause trouble. He wanted to touch him, hold him close, and perhaps do things that were far more intimate than anything he had ever considered doing with the person who was supposed to be his enemy.

Ryan’s throat moved as he swallowed hard.

He slowly lowered the cup.

"What am I thinking?"

His voice was barely more than a whisper.

He stood and walked toward the fireplace, carrying the wine with him. The flames flickered quietly in front of him, casting shifting light across his face.

Ryan stared into the fire.

"I never knew I was interested in men..."

He closed his eyes tightly.

Yet the moment he said it aloud, another thought immediately followed.

He is my wife.

Eric was his wife.

Perhaps that was the simplest explanation.

There was nothing strange about developing feelings for his own wife. Regardless of how their marriage had begun, they were married now. Eric belonged beside him.

Ryan slowly opened his eyes.

"Yes..."

He nodded faintly to himself.

"It is only natural that I would develop feelings for my wife."

He said it again, as though repeating it would make the confusing ache inside his chest easier to understand.

"Yes. That’s right."

Ryan took another drink, his gaze fixed on the flames.

"He is my wife."

His voice became quieter.

"So why should I hold back my feelings?"

The answer seemed obvious now.

If Eric was his wife, then there was nothing wrong with wanting him close. Nothing wrong with wanting to protect him. Nothing wrong with wanting to touch him or kiss him.

Nothing wrong with the way his heart had reacted when he thought he might lose him.

Ryan slowly exhaled.

For the first time that night, his expression softened.

He lifted the cup again, but before he could drink, a faint smile appeared at the corner of his lips.

"Yes..."

He murmured to himself.

"He’s my wife."

And somehow, after saying it enough times, the thought no longer felt like an excuse.

It felt like a decision.