Chapter 194 At Least Then, She Was Alive Inside
When Caroline woke again, three days had passed.
But from the moment her eyes opened, she never spoke another word.
The doctors examined her thoroughly and confirmed there was nothing physically wrong. It was not aphasia. She simply refused to speak.
Her condition had regressed to what it had been during her worst episodes—silent, lifeless.
Alexander's heart broke watching her.
He would have preferred her mute rage, the way she'd been when she lost her voice. At least then she still hated him. At least then she was alive inside.
Alexander had their daughter taken away. He stayed by Caroline's side day and night, talking to her.
"Caroline, do you remember? When we first arrived at the island, you fell asleep under that beach umbrella on the back shore. You were still holding that storybook in your hand.
"I read to you, and when you woke up, you threw yourself into my arms. You told me I had a nice reading voice... your eyes were so bright then, like starlight dancing on the water.
"Later you told me you loved that story—not because it was a classic, but because of what the fox said about taming. And that rose... you said the rose was just a rose. With or without the Little Prince, she would still bloom her hardest."
Alexander paused, his voice thickening.
"You were right. Caroline, you are that rose. No matter what you've been through, you should bloom for yourself."
"Do you remember before I left, when I tried to cook for you? I was so clumsy."
He tried to summon lighter memories, hoping to rekindle something in her.
"In the kitchen, hot oil splattered on me, and you rushed over to pull me to the sink. You told me I was breaking your heart... back then, you still cared if I got hurt."
As he spoke, it suddenly hit him—those few short months on the island, the warm moments between 'Edith' and him, there had been so many.
But every detail, recalled now, felt like a blade—gentle yet sharp, carving into his already shredded heart.
The touch was soft, but the pain stole his breath.
His mind drifted further back, to a time before everything fell apart.
When they were still just kids.
"Actually... I remember you from back then too," he said slowly.
"Every time I visited the Neville mansion, Edith was always the center of attention—like a happy little bird, flitting around everyone. But you... you were always sitting quietly on the couch, or at the desk by the window, with a book in your hands. Sometimes poetry. Sometimes a novel. When I was talking to Edith—or to Damon—you would look up now and then, nod at me, smile a little, then go back to your book. Your smile was soft, quiet. Not dazzling like Edith's. But I always noticed."
He sank deeper into the memory, his gaze distant.
"One time, I went to see your father about something and passed through the garden. I saw you sitting alone on the swing under the arbor, swaying gently, staring off into the distance. You were wearing a light blue dress. You looked a little lonely, but also... content. I did not interrupt. I just watched you for a moment, then left."
He let out a bitter laugh.
"You see? I have just as many memories of you as I do of Edith. It is just that back then, my attention was always drawn to her—she shone brighter, spoke louder. And you... you were like a painting in the background. Always there. But I ignored you."
He talked about the parties they had attended together, about her polite but distant demeanor.
He even remembered one time when Edith had dragged him upstairs to see a new dress she had bought, spinning in circles with excitement. Caroline had been standing on the staircase, watching quietly for a moment, then turning and walking away.
He had not thought anything of it at the time. But now, looking back—had there been loneliness in her eyes? A quiet ache at being overlooked?
All those years, overshadowed by Edith's brilliance, Caroline had left her mark on his life. He had just chosen not to see it.
Only now, in the aftermath of loss and regret, did those moments resurface—like faded photographs, one by one, coming back into focus.
But no matter how much he spoke, Caroline remained still, staring into nothing, never saying a word.
And Alexander did not dare bring up Edith's death, or the things he had done to Caroline all these years.
Finally, just when Alexander had nearly given up hope—when he had almost accepted that she might never speak again—Caroline broke her silence.
It was a bright afternoon. Alexander sat by the bed, reading her a book of poetry.
Her eyes flickered. Her lips moved.
"Wedding..."
"What?" Alexander's head snapped up. "Caroline... you spoke?"
Caroline did not respond. She just repeated it.
"Wedding..."
It hit him then—he and Caroline had never had a real wedding.
Even on the day they became legally married, he had left her standing there alone.
He had heard she had said her vows by herself.
It was something he owed her.
Alexander felt a surge of emotion—joy and heartbreak tangled together. He lunged forward and pulled her into his arms.
"Yes... a wedding, right? Yes, I will do it! I will arrange everything right away!"
Caroline did not resist. She just turned over, her back to him.
Alexander's mind raced with plans—the venue, the guests, the flowers, the church.
He even thought about building a chapel on the island.
Caroline did not answer. She just listened quietly.
He talked until his throat was dry and his voice hoarse.
Then he held her tightly, tears streaming down his face.
"Caroline, I am so happy... that you still want to have our wedding. That you still want to be with me."
The night did not feel as cold anymore.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Liam's voice came through.
"Sir, there is something urgent."
Alexander did not want to leave, but Liam insisted it was important.
He looked at Caroline with worry.
"You can go," Caroline said suddenly. "I will not hurt myself. And I will not hurt our child."
Alexander hesitated.
Caroline finally turned to look at him. "You do not trust me?"
"I do! I trust you!" Alexander nodded quickly, leaning in to kiss her gently.
"I will be right back."
With that, he reluctantly left the room.