CHAPTER 172: ANGUISH

"What... What happened to you, Lyle?" Her voice was tight, as if she were experiencing immense pain while asking it. And she truly was.

Ephyra didn’t understand why, but witnessing Lyle wounded and silent—now seeing the bizarre lines etched beneath his skin—filled her with a deep sense of anguish. The sight of him in pain had made her heart ache ever since she first laid eyes on his injuries.

However, a quiet chuckle came from him in reply to her question, and Ephyra froze, tightening her hold on his shoulder.

"Lyle? Please tell me, okay? Is it because of the disorder? Lyle, is it? Is this another effect it causes?" Ephyra tried to make her voice clear enough for him to hear.

Yet, he didn’t say anything and only turned his head, but even that action felt to Ephyra like his bones had become stiff. And when he finally faced her, she gazed at his eerie, blood-red eyes with the black part of his pupil completely filling his violet iris.

"Lyle?" she whispered, her breath shallow.

"Ephyra, I’m fine," he said, his voice low and tired.

"Fine? How are you fine? You—" Her brows knitted together, her voice beginning to tremble.

"Do you think I’m not because of the way I look?" he interrupted, voice eerily calm.

"What?" Ephyra blinked, startled.

"Ephyra, do you think I look hideous?" he asked, eyes flickering as if searching her face for the answer he feared.

Ephyra shook her head, placing both hands on his face and meeting her forehead with his. "No. No, I don’t think you do. And even if you did, I wouldn’t care. What I really care about is whether it’s causing you pain or not, Lyle. Whether it always happens, since when, and everything regarding it."

"If you want to know, then... I’m in pain. A lot of pain, Ephyra," he confessed, his voice almost breaking.

"Lyle..." she breathed, the ache in her chest tightening.

"But I’ve gone through it so much that I don’t feel that pain anymore." His tone was deadpan, and that was what terrified her the most.

"I don’t—why? Why didn’t you tell me? And how does the disorder cause this?! How?" Her voice rose, panic creeping into her tone.

Lyle’s lips curved up, but not in a smile. "It’s not a disorder, Ephyra. It’s something else," he said quietly.

"Then what about the disorder? Was it a lie?" Her eyes widened, disbelief crashing into her like a wave.

Silence.

"Lyle, was it a fucking lie?" she demanded, voice sharp and trembling.

He tightened his hold on her, and Ephyra was sure her skin would bruise, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell him to let go.

"No, it wasn’t. Everything Liam told you about it was true," he said through clenched teeth, pain and anger barely held back.

"Something else is making you like this? What is it?" she asked, gripping his arms tightly, needing answers now more than ever.

"I can’t tell you yet, Ephyra. But this... this was what caused the disorder. And I didn’t know what it was until I met Liam, which was a few years ago," he explained, his voice rough like gravel.

Ephyra closed her eyes and turned her head to the side, jaw clenched. "Then when can you tell me? Never? Because you do know we will be getting a divorce soon—"

His hold tightened again, and she had to bite back a moan of pain.

"I don’t want to get a divorce, Ephyra. You’re the one who wants to," he said harshly, as if the words themselves were cutting through him.

His voice was hard as he fought not only the pain racking through his body but the anger growing in him at the thought of Ephyra leaving him for good. Not being able to see her, talk to her, touch her, or smell her scent. Just the thought was going to drive him insane.

Seeing his jaw tighten, Ephyra realized he was still in a lot of pain and only holding it in. So she wrapped her arms around him and placed his head on her shoulder, pulling him close.

"Forget about that. My scent can make you feel relieved, right?" she murmured, stroking the back of his head.

She thought he wasn’t going to reply, but a faint grunt of "Yes" eased her worries.

She sighed in relief and tightened her hold on him, her fingers gently caressing the back of his neck.

After some time, she called out again. "Lyle?"

"Hmm?" he answered, voice quieter now, almost soothed.

"How did you get the wound on your back?" she asked, her tone gentle but firm.

"I lost control of my body. And to stop myself from destroying the room... and scaring you... I injured myself," he admitted, voice barely audible.

"Is it always like this, Lyle?" she asked, pain rippling through her chest.

He shook his head, his already low voice coming out muffled against her shoulder, sending a shiver down her spine. "No. At the mansion, there’s a room I go to whenever it acts up."

"Do you... do you get relief in there?" she asked, hopeful but afraid.

"A little. It makes me unable to get aggressive and suppresses the desire to destroy... but not the strength. So I always end up fighting to hold myself back."

Ephyra closed her eyes tightly. "What about now? Is it better? Mm?"

"Hm. I feel better than I’ve ever felt."

"I’m glad. But... does something trigger it?" She frowned, thinking. "I’ve noticed during this trip you’ve been on edge a lot—and you had to breathe me in to calm down. Why? Is it because we’re away from the mansion?" she asked, recalling the times in the car.

"No. I’m not sure. But... I get agitated whenever I think about you leaving."

"Wha–"

"Ephyra, can you not leave?" His voice broke for a second. "It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me about the issues you have, but... don’t leave."

His arms wrapped completely around her waist, plastering her body against his.

Ephyra didn’t reply, but she let her body press against his with no space between them. Her hands moved slowly across his back, coming into contact with the edge of his dressing. She felt the crinkled texture of the bandages and the slight dampness of where it met his skin.

"You need to lie down, Lyle. You may not feel the pain, but I can’t bear to see you exert yourself. Please..." she murmured.

Ephyra didn’t know why she was pleading. She wasn’t even sure what emotion pushed the words out of her, but one thing was clear—she couldn’t stand the thought of Lyle being uncomfortable in any way.

Lyle didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he pressed his face closer to the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply. The sound of his breathing was soft but heavy in the quiet room, as though he were trying to fill his lungs with her scent and steady himself with it.

"Lyle, please... come on—"

"Stay with me."

"I will stay with you."

"No, lie with me. If you want me to lie down, lie with me."

"O-okay. Come on," Ephyra said, not second-guessing for a moment.

She tried to pull back, patting his arm lightly and signaling for him to release her. When his grip loosened just enough, she shifted to stand—but before her feet could even hit the floor, she felt arms slide under her back and knees. Suddenly, she was lifted off the bed in a clean, firm motion.

"Hah!" she gasped.

Her hands flew up to grip his shoulders tightly. Her eyes widened as she looked up at him, surprised, breath caught somewhere between her chest and throat.

The dark, pulsing veins that had previously marked his face had disappeared, though they still lingered faintly on his neck. His eyes had returned to their usual shades—white and violet—though under certain lighting, especially from a distance, they still looked white and black.

"Lyle—"

"Shh. I’m just taking you to bed," he said gently.

He bent his knees slightly and lowered her onto the sheets with careful movements, like she was something fragile. Ephyra’s body sank into the mattress, but Lyle didn’t pull away. Instead, he remained hovering above her, his arms propped on either side of her head, caging her in softly.

His stare didn’t waver.

Suddenly, she felt very aware of what she was wearing. The silk robe of her nightwear clung to her, and she instinctively pulled it tighter around her body. The air between them grew thick—not uncomfortable, but charged in a way that made her pulse quicken.

She licked her lips and turned her head slightly, trying to distract herself. "Umm... Lyle?"

"Ephyra," he said, his voice deeper, quieter.

His left arm braced beside her head, his body lowering ever so slightly. When Ephyra turned her gaze back to him, the shiver that crawled up her spine was nearly unbearable.