Misunderstood Villain: Heroines Mourn My Death - Chapter 436: No Rest For The Wicked II
***
{Outside The Projection}
“Take care of her, alright?”
Oh, the circle of fools.
Even then, he remembered Layla.
Even when the world burned around him.
The projection had frozen on Malik’s face, every detail carved into the light.
It was a face no one could look away from.
One that spoke of its goodbye.
Of its sorrow and its hollowness.
A man who sincerely believed he’d killed nearly everyone he loved.
And now, this man’s final act of mercy came to an end.
His request to wipe away memories most wretched.
His request for a proper education for his child.
His request to remain unknown to her.
Passing on his pillar of hope to another.
Someone he saw as more deserving.
A person with not too cruel a death.
…His wife.
A whisper followed it, thin but impossible to ignore.
“I will.”
The way it landed made the whole hall nearly fall forward.
Of course, it came from Layla.
For whom else was Malik a Goddamned fool for?
He, of the past, was directly addressing the her of now; that was love, no doubt.
She was finally given such a privilege, one that they all once believed was only given to Huda.
For many seconds after her whisper, there was nothing but its echo, and the hall—no, the entire world—couldn’t think of anything else but those two words.
Yes, the ‘entire world,’ for they too seemed to have heard it.
It broke their already broken hearts, much like those in the hall.
Huda couldn’t help but bring herself closer to Layla, crying even harder.
Azeem’s shoulders loosened—a relief so bright yet so damned miserable.
Sinbad’s pink eyes dimmed, stuck trying to decide whether to smile or to weep.
Dunya, despite the tears falling down her face, revealed a smile purer than most had ever seen; the innocent joy in it was so terribly contagious.
Yet, beautiful as she looked, she wasn’t what most people saw.
After the hall’s eyes finally left the projection, they all collectively landed on Layla.
It was only of course, but what they saw wasn’t what they expected.
Layla’s tears had stilled.
Her eyes hadn’t left the one she most loved.
She was still watching Malik in the projection, scanning his features.
…His emotions, all that he felt when he deprived her of a mother’s greatest need.
The chance to hold her daughter was taken from her, as was watching her grow up, teaching her, scolding her, praising her, smiling with her, hugging her, and crying with her.
All of it was taken away, never to return, and perhaps…
Perhaps that was the tragedy of all this.
A tragedy unlike any before it.
No one had died, and yet, the pain gutted her.
She’d lost both her husband and her daughter that day.
A relationship that was buried under a very cruel mercy.
However, through all of that sorrow, her eyes revealed determination.
Yes, it wasn’t sadness but unwavering determination.
Her thoughts of death were gone.
That would be too selfish now.
Layla would not choose death for herself while her child lived.
Even if Malik… even if…
She would remain until her daughter asked otherwise.
Only then, when given permission, would she join her beloved in the afterlife.
That became the stubborn promise the hall all but directly heard her utter.
They had expected doom, or doom’s numb twin…
A broken fall to indifference.
Instead, they’d been given a promise.
Huda squeezed Layla’s hand until her knuckles glowed.
“S-She’ll cling to you forever. You’ll see.”
There was still fear under all of it.
An honest, ugly worry that the next scene might tear the hall open again.
But for now, her whisper hung like a small lamp in the dark.
It didn’t fix the world, but at least it gave them hope.
Amal showed them that perhaps…
Perhaps another Path was forming.
A Path adjacent to his fire and blood.
One that didn’t require his death.
***
{Inside The Projection}
Hours later, the corridors outside their quarters were beginning to quieten.
The shuffle of servants, priests, healers, and physicians became distant.
Only a few remained now.
Malik had watched them all.
Standing by the doorway, he stared at his wife.
A female physician sat beside the bed, speaking in a low voice.
Layla was awake, propped against pillows, her face somewhat calm.
Color had returned to her cheeks, and the strain in her breathing was gone.
She looked… well.
Involuntarily, his lips curved.
A smile, similar to what came earlier, only now undeniable.
For the first time in what felt like forever, his expression was entirely normal.
Nothing had influenced the smile into being but himself and his so deeply buried emotions.
Emotions that he didn’t even know existed.
Yet, it didn’t last.
The warmth in it faded faster than it had come.
Malik stepped back from the door, and in the next blink, he was gone.
He reappeared in a high-ceilinged meeting room moments after.
A cluster of his Sultanate’s leaders sat around a table, words halfway into an argument.
However, before he could bother to pick up on what they were saying, they froze almost immediately, picking up on his all too overpowering presence without needing to see him.
Malik, under their trembling eyes, walked straight to the table.
Barely glancing at the familiar map spread across it, his hand reached out and moved a few carved pieces—subtle shifts that, in seconds, seemed to dismantle their opposition entirely.
He didn’t even pause to check.
The plan worked; he knew it would.
Chairs scraped back at once.
All of them stood, bowing or dropping to their knees.
Of course, all except Azeem and Sinbad—the once boy, now man, and the owl perched on his shoulder—who simply waved at him like they’d been waiting all day.
Malik motioned for them all to sit and went to the far end, settling into the throne there.
Azeem, who was beside him, leaned forward, lowering his voice as if this were a private conversation despite the room being full.
“Lady Layla’s better?”
Source: Webnovel.com, updated by novlove.com
