Even if Your Regret Holds Me Back (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 15
Contrary to her desire to put as much distance between them as possible, she was now cornered—unable to take even a single step back.
Behind her stood a sealed door; before her, the man blocking it.
A small resolve hardened within her. She disliked resorting to such tactics, but there was no other choice.
Helena slowly reached out her hand, carefully brushing aside the silver strands of hair that had fallen over Ian’s forehead, then placed her palm against the newly exposed cheek.
He did not brush her hand away. Encouraged slightly, Helena gently stroked his cool skin with her thumb, just as he once had done to her.
After rubbing his cheek a few times, he slowly closed then reopened his eyes. Their gazes met at close range.
How long had it been since she last saw her own reflection in someone else’s eyes?
“Is that how you normally stare at people, or are your eyes just naturally like that?”
“…What do you mean?”
Helena slid her hand down like slipping through water, resting it against the nape of his neck. Beneath her palm, the taut muscles twitched.
Ignoring the faint tremor, she pulled him forward. With only the slightest pressure, he came easily toward her.
Helena tilted her head slightly and asked,
“Do you know me?”
Then she added in a whisper,
“I don’t know you.”
In that instant, the warm breath that had been touching her cheek vanished. Ian had momentarily stopped breathing.
Again, a crack appeared across his expression—the face bearing the very emotions she had repeatedly turned away from.
This time, instead of pulling back, Helena drew him even closer. He looked slightly dazed.
‘He didn’t seem like the type to be flustered by such simple physical contact. Or is this acting too?’
Either way, this was her only chance.
Helena thrust her knee upward with all her strength—determined to escape this place, even if it meant using force.
“I let my guard down. I should’ve remembered that you’ve always been just as skilled at ensnaring people, then as now.”
Her knee, lifted with great momentum, halted abruptly mid-air.
“Let go of me.”
“You’re just as stubborn as ever. I should’ve brought along a cat trap.”
“I told you to let go.”
“You know perfectly well that I can’t.”
Ian, gripping the upper part of her knee with the hand not pressed against the door, steadily increased his pressure.
Not satisfied with that, he wedged his thick thigh between her legs, completely immobilizing her. Their bodies pressed even closer together.
“A storm is coming soon. All the other inns have already closed.”
His slow voice brushed past her ear. Helena strained with all her might but couldn’t escape his embrace.
No matter how hard she pushed, his firm chest didn’t budge even slightly—it felt like pushing against a massive boulder rather than a man.
It was hard to believe this was the same man who had so obediently yielded to her touch just moments ago.
Meanwhile, Ian remained utterly composed despite all her efforts. He naturally reached up to check her forehead, his expression growing graver.
“You still have a fever. If you go out like this, you’ll collapse again.”
Helena scoffed inwardly.
What good was pretending to worry? In the end, it was just another way of insisting she obey him. The irritation she’d carefully suppressed began to bubble up again.
She disliked being read so thoroughly by him—she wasn’t some stray alley cat to be tamed.
Her only remaining shield was to adopt a sharp, defiant attitude.
“How convenient. Since someone interrupted me earlier and I couldn’t finish dying, I’ll just pick up where I left off.”
Helena glared at him as fiercely as she could. Even saints had their limits when faced with such tiresome words.
Though she felt utterly pathetic herself, it still wasn’t enough against him. Ian pierced through her defenses far too easily.
“Too bad. Right now, someone’s going to stop you from finishing what you started earlier.”
Ian stepped back slightly.
Helena briefly sighed in relief at the fresh air that rushed in—
Until a sharp creaking sound came from below.
When Ian withdrew his clenched right hand, a pitifully crumpled golden lump was revealed—the doorknob, once perfectly intact.
A chill ran down Helena’s spine. Something was profoundly wrong. It felt as if she’d just sunk her foot into a swamp with no way back.
“Now we’re both trapped. With no way out, we might as well get some sleep.”
The very one who’d caused their entrapment said this calmly.
Before Helena could protest, a large hand wrapped around her waist. He hoisted her onto his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and headed toward the bed.
Helena screamed for him to put her down and pounded his back, but only her own fists ached. Unfazed, Ian tossed her onto the bed.
“Ugh!”
The impact momentarily dazed her. In that brief lapse, Ian even took the time to pull the blanket over her.
“What exactly are you trying to do now?”
As soon as the dizziness cleared, Helena sat up abruptly and demanded an answer.
He, of course, ignored her outcry entirely and simply flopped down onto the floor. Then he fell silent.
Helena stared intently into the darkness. With the added shadows of the furniture, she couldn’t clearly see his expression.
Shhhhhh—
Just then, rain began to pour. The steady rhythm of water filled the silence.
Occasionally, the wind rattled the window frame. A long, heavy quiet followed.
Helena had no choice but to burrow deeper under the blanket, curling her body tightly as she waited for a few more dry spells to pass.
This time, the floorboards creaked—the sound of him turning onto his side.
Helena turned toward the window as well. Backs to each other, both closed their eyes.
In the damp room, Ian softly marked the end of the day.
“Good night.”
[This is the timeline separator]Click. Click.
Natasha sat on the bed, repeatedly opening and closing a silver dagger. Its surface, engraved with skulls and the figure of a reaper, glimmered faintly in the moonlight.
Though its purpose seemed excessively cruel for such delicate fingers—and though it had been gifted with an even crueler intent—Natasha accepted it gladly.
A woman in love had no reason to refuse a gift from the one she cherished.
Ever since then, whenever troubled, Natasha would stroke the dagger for comfort.
‘This is the first time it’s ever failed me.’
Yet, despite rubbing it for nearly an hour until her fingertips grew raw, her worries refused to fade.
Natasha released the lips she’d been biting and flicked her thumb. The blade, which had been partially raised, snapped back into its sheath.
In the empty room devoid of Eugene, the click sounded unusually loud.
It had been fifteen days since he last sought her out.
‘Surely my effect hasn’t worn off already.’
Natasha flipped the hilt and scratched her chin with its blunt end, lost in thought.
‘Could someone have provoked him?’
Or perhaps Helena’s absence was influencing him. Despite their current state, they had shared five years as husband and wife.
Whether built on love or hatred, emotions layered over years couldn’t simply be erased overnight.
‘That was a collapse. And she… brought it upon herself.’
Picturing Helena possibly broken and pitiful at this very moment, Natasha steeled her resolve.
If Eugene harbored even the faintest lingering sentiment—whether he realized it or not—she mustn’t act rashly.
After all, a fire once ignited wouldn’t easily die out, and events would unfold smoothly. All she needed to do was keep playing the part of a docile, beautiful doll.
Still, one small doubt lingered…
‘Given her personality, I expected her to endure for several more years.’
Helena’s surprisingly swift surrender was unexpected. Compared to how long Natasha had been captivating Eugene, Helena seemed to have folded her hand far too early.
‘Or is it because she realized beyond doubt that resistance was futile?’
That couldn’t be.
At least the Helena Natasha understood was stubbornly tenacious.
She wouldn’t give up easily unless she’d seen something through to the end.
‘Anyway, better sooner than later—I should start moving. Getting the key first will put my mind at ease.’
Natasha placed the dagger decisively onto the bedside table. When she raised her head, a full moon shone brightly through the window.
Fixing her gaze on its soft glow, she murmured as if making a wish.
“Come quickly, Your Grace. We have so much to do.”
[This is the timeline separator]Her eyes ached fiercely from the light. Helena fumbled for something to block it, then suddenly recalled last night’s events.
‘That man…’
She slowly sat up, leaning against the headboard, and looked down. He lay on the floor exactly as he had when he fell asleep.
She turned her head again. Sunlight streamed directly through the window where the curtain had folded back.
‘…So I really didn’t die.’
The weather was brilliantly clear, as if last night’s storm had only been a dream. Helena got out of bed and opened the window.
The rich aroma of freshly baked bread reached her first. Then came the sound of cart wheels rolling by, laden with dried fruit.
She saw people busily filling the streets from early morning. The scent of life wafted from every corner.
Everything felt strange. All that should have ended yesterday hadn’t ended at all.
Today had stubbornly arrived. Somehow, she had survived. It felt like secretly reading the forbidden epilogue of a story whose ending had already been written.
Even breathing felt alien. The post-rain air was so impeccably fresh it made her feel even more out of place.
Helena leaned forward, resting her hands on the windowsill, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.
The warm yellow afterimage of sunlight danced before her eyes, and a gentle breeze tickled her face along with her hair.
The ordinary morning bustle of ordinary people played like background music.
‘With what feeling do people open their eyes each morning?’
What kind of feeling made one want to live through the day?
How could anyone endure so ordinarily—a week, a month, a year, a lifetime?
‘I still don’t know.’
Her musings scattered instantly with a gust of chilly air. Early autumn had brought a crisp coolness to the wind.
Just as Helena opened her eyes and decided to close the window, she sensed movement behind her.
“Even if this is the second floor, jumping won’t leave you unharmed.”
His voice was slightly hoarse—evidently just awakened, still thick with sleep.
Yet that dry, languid tone couldn’t mask the warning embedded in his words.
Helena kept her back turned. Two footsteps quickly approached her.
Male lead is a Divorced Husband
She said to him: “Tell me, what makes you like me? I’ll change it!”
Liu Changning transmigrated into a female cannon fodder character in a female-dominant novel.
After reading the first half of the novel’s plot, the first thing she did upon transmigration was to divorce the Pan Jinlian-style male protagonist she had just married.
She indulged herself, pretending to be ugly and poor.
But as time passed, the way that man looked at her became more and more unusual…
Liu Changning was dumbfounded: Tell me, what makes you like me? I’ll change!
――
This lifetime, Pei Yuanshao was rejected by the same woman twice!
The first time, she drove him away. Forced by the situation, he endured the waves of anger in his heart, yielding and humbling himself.
That person lay slanted on a rocking chair, her sallow face emotionless: “If you don’t want a divorce, go cook!”
Pei Yuanshao’s face was dark and gloomy: “You!”
The second time, after the crisis in Jinling City was resolved, the new emperor sent someone to pick him up. He turned around, stammering: “I… I have to go. If you keep me…”
That person lay on the kang bed, her back to him, as if she had long anticipated this day, crisp and clear: “Goodbye!”
Pei Yuanshao was so angry his fingers trembled: “You… you!”
The mission of family and country made him restrain himself, averting his eyes and turning to leave this broken household.
Two years later, they met again. Seeing her ethereal face, his body shook like a sieve.
“She was originally a ‘she’!”
At the Qionglin Banquet, the top scholar of the imperial examination, a talented person with exceptional speech and conduct, all the unmarried young gentlemen from aristocratic families looked at her with shy and timid eyes.
The peerless imperial official Pei Yuanshao felt the anger in his heart erupt. He pointed at the woman surrounded by the crowd at the Qionglin Banquet, his thin lips slightly curled: “Little sister, I wants that person to be the wife-master of my Mingde Prince Manor.”
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Who cares? 😒 That mf deserves a lot of pain 😒😒😡😡
EXACTLY! She’s with someone else …now you aint shit
Me too 😒 she should have kicked his balls and cut them 🤔