While My Husband Cheated, I Married His Powerful Brother

Chapter 178: Chapter 178 A Broken Veyra and Dorian’s Tormented Heart

​Dorian stood motionless in the open bedroom doorway.

​His leather travel bag was still clutched in his right hand, and his dark suit jacket remained draped over his left arm. He had only just stepped into the manor after finishing a grueling week-long business trip abroad. He was bone-tired, mentally drained, and frustrated. All he had wanted was a hot shower and a quiet bed to fall into.

​Then he had heard her agonizing scream echo down the quiet corridor.

​He had heard her voice, completely broken, desperate, and calling out for her deceased mother in the dark.

​Without giving it a second thought, he had rushed straight down the hallway to her private room. He had pushed the wooden door open without knocking and found her sitting up in the middle of the large bed. Her hair was tangled across her shoulders, her pale cheeks were soaked with fresh tears, and her entire frame was trembling uncontrollably.

​Something deep inside Dorian’s chest cracked wide open.

​He couldn’t maintain his cold, indifferent mask any longer. He couldn’t pretend that her pain meant nothing to him, nor could he simply turn around and walk away from her distress.

​He set his travel bag down on the floor, placed his jacket over the nearby armchair, and slowly crossed the room toward the bed.

​"Veyra," he said softly, keeping his voice gentle. "What happened?"

​Veyra raised her head and looked straight at him through her blurred vision.

​Her eyes were completely bloodshot, her cheeks streaked with tears, and her lips trembling as she struggled for air.

​She tried to form words to explain the nightmare, but her throat felt paralyzed. No sound came out.

​She tried a second time, but still, nothing came.

​The lingering terror of the dream was still gripping her mind. The overwhelming grief, the vivid memory of her mother, the pool of blood, the sinister clown mask, and the loud gun blast were all far too fresh.

​She simply couldn’t keep her walls up any longer.

​Abandoning all her pride, she threw herself forward, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her face directly against his chest. Her fingers clutched tightly into the fabric of his dress shirt as heavy sobs wracked her entire body.

​Dorian froze on the spot, his muscles locking up instantly.

​His entire body went rigid as a board.

​His arms hung stiffly at his sides, his breath catching tightly in his throat.

​He was completely lost on how to react.

​One strong part of him desperately wanted to hold her close, to wrap his arms securely around her shaking frame and whisper that she was safe now.

​Yet another guarded part of him warned him to push her away, to maintain a safe distance, and to protect his own guarded heart from getting involved.

​He forced himself to remember the strict boundaries they had set up. The legal contract. Their formal, distant arrangement.

​She was the mother of his child. That was supposed to be the absolute limit of their connection.

​He was supposed to be loyal to the memory of Iris, the mysterious woman who had saved his life years ago in the forest, the woman he had spent so much time searching for, and the woman he couldn’t push from his mind.

​Veyra was definitely not Iris.

​Veyra was not his to hold.

​Yet she was sobbing right in front of him.

​She was completely falling apart in his arms, her muffled cries pressing against his chest as her fingers dug deeper into his shirt.

​"Please," she whispered out desperately, her voice breaking on the word. "Please just hold me."

​Her body shook violently with every breath she took.

​"I can’t... I really can’t handle this alone."

​Dorian’s chest tightened so hard it felt painful. His throat closed up, and a burning sensation stung the back of his eyes.

​He tried to speak, but no words would come out.

​She pulled back slightly to look up into his face. Her eyes were wet with tears, and her face was deathly pale under the dim room lighting.

​"Please," she begged him again, her voice barely a whisper. "Just hold me."

​Whatever cold discipline he had spent months building up completely shattered in an instant.

​The rigid walls he had constructed, the safe distance he had tried so hard to maintain, and the strict rules he had imposed on himself all crumbled into nothing.

​He brought his arms up, wrapped them firmly around her back, and pulled her tightly against his chest.

​He brought one hand up to cradle the back of her head, pressing her face gently into the crook of his shoulder while resting his chin lightly on top of her hair.

​"I’m right here," he murmured, his voice sounding thick and hoarse. "I’m right here with you."

​She began to cry even harder, her frame shivering against his, her hands holding onto his shirt like a lifeline.

​He simply held her tight, refusing to let go.

​He had no idea how many minutes passed as they stayed like that on the edge of the bed.

​Time seemed to lose all meaning.

​He kept holding her close, gently stroking her dark hair and whispering quiet words of comfort into the silence of the bedroom.

​Gradually, the intense stiffness in her body began to fade away. Her violent sobs softened into small hitches, and her rapid, ragged breathing slowly settled into a calm, steady rhythm.

​Her hands were still gripping his shirt, but her body had completely relaxed against his chest.

​He carefully looked down at her. Her eyes were lightly closed, and her facial expression had finally settled into peace.

​Exhausted from the nightmare and the tears, she had fallen fast asleep right in his arms.

​Dorian didn’t move a single inch.

​He remained sitting there on the mattress, holding her securely against his chest and watching her quiet face.

​His mind involuntarily drifted back to his solitary trip to the Guwu Forest weeks ago, the quiet night he had stood near the high edge of the mountain cliff trying to sort through his complicated emotions.

​Back then, he had remembered Iris clearly. He remembered the woman who had tended to his wounds, held him through the dark hours, and vanished before sunrise without leaving a trace.

​He had also thought heavily about Veyra. He remembered the sound of her genuine laugh, the bold way she stood her ground against him, and the clear, honest way she looked at him whenever they spoke.

​On that cliff, he had tried to convince himself that his dedication to Iris remained completely untouched, and that whatever pull he felt toward Veyra was just a temporary distraction.

​He realized now how completely wrong he had been.

​He had tried so hard to keep his distance from her over the past few weeks.

​He had deliberately thrown away the sweet milk tea she bought for him, flatly rejected her quiet attempts to thank him, and gone out of his way to avoid being in the same room with her.

​He had genuinely believed that keeping his distance would allow him to control his rising feelings.

​It hadn’t worked at all.

​Every single time he saw her walk into a room, his pulse quickened. Every time she smiled naturally, a tight ache formed in his chest. Every time she stood near him, he had to fight the urge to step closer.

​She wasn’t Iris, but she had become someone incredibly vital to him anyway.

​He simply couldn’t deny the reality of it anymore.

​He had spent the entirety of his business trip abroad trying to force her out of his thoughts.

​He had buried himself in work, taking endless corporate meetings late into the night and forcing his body to stay awake until dawn.

​He had avoided sleep because going to sleep meant dreaming, and his dreams kept leading right back to her.

​By the time he boarded his flight back, he hadn’t slept properly in three days.

​He was completely exhausted, deeply frustrated, and thoroughly angry at his own weakness.

​He had returned to the manor hoping to find a quiet space to clear his head and restore the boundaries between them.

​Instead, he had walked right into her room to find her completely broken, sobbing in the dark, and calling out for her lost mother.

​Veyra shifted slightly in her sleep, her body pressing closer to his warm chest.

​Her small hand tightened its grip on the front of his shirt, and a faint sound slipped past her lips as she murmured her mother’s name once more.

​Dorian’s throat tightened painfully as he watched her.

​He looked down at her tear-stained face, tracing the dark circles under her eyes and the slight tremble that still lingered on her lips even in sleep.

​In this quiet moment, she wasn’t the proud, untouchable woman who had fearlessly confronted Xander Hale at the shop. She wasn’t the brilliant negotiator who had outsmarted Professor Sterling during their meeting. She wasn’t the ambitious entrepreneur tirelessly building a business from the ground up.

​She was simply a human being, someone who had carried far too much pain for far too long, and who was still hurting deep inside.

​Dorian couldn’t fight his own heart any longer.

​All the intense emotions he had spent so many exhausting days holding back suddenly broke free, flooding his chest completely.

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