He Waited She Wilted (Ottilie and Yorath) novel Chapter 182

Yorath returned after staying at The Empyrean for three days.

He went straight into Ottilie's bedroom.

Ottilie had just stepped out of the shower. Having forgotten her pajamas, she ended up standing completely naked right in front of him.

"Yorath, you're back."

She quickly grabbed the sleepwear from the nightstand and slipped it on.

Yorath strolled over to her, casually helping her pull her long hair free from the collar of her clothes.

His fingers combed through the strands, the texture silky and soft.

Every single detail about her was perfectly aligned with his desires.

"Come home with me tonight."

Ottilie finished adjusting her top and turned to meet his eyes. "Which home?"

"Creekwood Manor." Yorath was dressed impeccably formal, looking as though he were about to attend a grand gala.

"You're getting married. It wouldn't be appropriate for me to go, would it?" she asked.

"In the past, I liked you and followed you around because you were single. If you were taken, I would never have meddled in your relationship."

"When I confessed to you the first time we met, if you had rejected me, that would have been the end of it. I wouldn't have pestered you or caused you any trouble."

Yorath looked at her steadily. "Tilly, you proposed to me, and I accepted. We are the ones getting married."

Ottilie stared at him unblinking, suddenly realizing he was dead serious.

She lowered her gaze to the strand of hair he was twirling around his fingertips.

"If you marry me, your political career will be over," she murmured. "What gives me the right to make you sacrifice your entire future?"

"You are perfect."

Yorath took her hand, leading her into the walk-in closet, where he personally picked out a modest yet stunningly elegant outfit for her.

Holding the clothes, Ottilie offered him a wry smile. "Choosing the beauty over the empire? I used to be like that too—prioritizing a pretty face over everything else."

He affectionately ruffled her hair. "And now?"

"Now..." Ottilie looked at the impossibly handsome man standing before her—a man gorgeous enough to be sculpted from marble—yet her heart remained completely stagnant.

"Now, I suppose I still appreciate it," she concluded. After all, she still had eyes for aesthetic perfection.

She just simply didn't love him anymore.

Ever since that day, she had kept her ego in check, avoiding shortcuts and dedicating herself to honing her acting chops.

Even though she didn't land the role.

She had still gained a harsh dose of reality.

It taught her that no matter how good she thought she looked, there was always someone more radiant out there.

And at twenty-six, she certainly wasn't a fresh-faced girl anymore.

Yorath stepped forward to adjust her collar.

"You are beautiful. Back when you fell in love with me at first sight and confessed, everyone in that VIP room couldn't take their eyes off you."

"I'm having trouble remembering it."

Much of her memory was nothing but a hazy blur.

Dr. Thorne had said that if she stopped the medication for about six months, her cognitive functions would start to improve.

But she had never really hoped to recover the things she had forgotten.

To the person she was now, it simply didn't matter anymore.