Bride Behind the Mask novel Chapter 688

Frederick wasn't the least bit surprised when Marguerite posed the question.

Ever since he'd returned home, this woman had been testing him over and over, her intentions as clear as day to Frederick. Now, it seemed like all the grievances and misunderstandings between him and Marguerite had found a way to be explained. Yet, he still kept his gaze lowered, at a loss for words.

In truth, Marguerite regretted her question the moment it left her lips. After all, Teresa wasn't Maurice's child, and certainly not Frederick's. So, Marguerite felt her question was shamelessly out of line. But then she remembered what Jocelyn had told her—

Frederick had been ready to confess his feelings for her, prepared even to raise the child in her womb as his own. But the one thing he couldn't stomach was that the father of the child she carried was Maurice, the man he considered his lifelong adversary. Now, with everything seemingly back to square one, Marguerite couldn't help but want to test the waters.

After much contemplation, Frederick finally resolved to address Marguerite's question directly, but his voice was filled with a helpless and sorrowful tone.

"To be honest, I don't know."

Marguerite stared at him, at a loss for what to say next. After mumbling around the subject, she finally blurted out, frustrated, "Either you're willing or you're not. What does 'I don't know' mean?"

He said, "Marguerite, we can reset everything, but feelings don't reset. When you and Maurice plotted against me, it made me resent you for three whole years. I want to believe it was all a terrible misunderstanding, but Marguerite, the resentment was real. I can't just forget it."

He spoke of not being able to forget the resentment he harbored. But what about their past, those beautiful moments they shared, didn't they deserve to be remembered? Why did he cling so tightly to his resentment, yet seemed to forget about their love? Was it because the bitterness was too intense, or because his feelings for her three years ago were not as profound as others had made them out to be?

Marguerite offered a feeble smile. She knew the smile on her face probably looked uglier than tears. But she couldn't find the right expression or emotion to face him with.

As she smiled, tears began to stream down her face. "What can I say? Such is life."

Frederick looked at her for a long while without saying a word. He thought by sharing his truest thoughts, he would feel relieved, unburdened. But the moment he spoke, his heart felt even heavier and more pained.

"Frederick, do we really not stand a chance anymore?" Marguerite's tears silently rolled down her cheeks. She always cried like this, with extreme restraint. It made everyone think she was resilient and stubborn, stronger than any other woman. But only Marguerite knew the true extent of her pain and heartache.

Gently, Frederick reached out to lift Marguerite's chin, so their eyes met. "If you can bear that my love for you is but a fraction of your love for me, if you can endure the indifference and loathing I feel every time I'm reminded of what happened three years ago, then perhaps, we could give it a try."

His words hit Marguerite like a hammer to the heart. He seemed to offer her a glimmer of hope, yet she couldn't bring herself to feel joy. Their eyes locked, and for a moment, no words were exchanged.

"You can't bear it, can you? Then how can you expect me to bear the resentment I've held for three years and start over with you? Isn't it better this way?"

A sense of bleak despair passed through Marguerite, as she pulled away from his touch and turned to gaze out at the tranquil street view outside the window, her lips barely moving.

"Yes...this is for the best. It's better this way..."