No One Ever Loved Me - Chapter 129

Why? Ricardo wondered.

He’d done everything right like a noble knight straight out of a fairy tale. He didn’t expect Lia to fall for some fantasy, but still  was it necessary for her to look as if he had threatened her life instead of simply confessing his feelings?

“Lia, are you okay? Damn it, breathe stop holding it in. Just take it slow, exhale for me.”

His initial shock faded quickly once he noticed what was really happening: she was holding her breath.

He sprang to his feet, gently placing a hand on her back to coax her into breathing again.

But no matter how much he tried, Lia wouldn’t exhale.

It wasn’t until he realized that the closer he came, the paler her face became, that he stepped back, cursing softly through gritted teeth.

“I won’t come any closer, I promise. Just… please, Lia, breathe. If not for yourself, then for me.”

When he stepped back exactly three paces, she finally let out a faint breath.

Just one or two minutes—it hadn’t been long.

But to Ricardo, it had felt like eternity.

He mentally retraced everything he had done. What had gone wrong?

Maybe it was the fairy tale book Penelope had once shown him.

That girl had never been much of a help. Even then, she’d paid more attention to the dresses than the story itself.

He decided this was all Penelope’s fault and conveniently ignored that little truth.

“Now would be the time to say the night air is too cold and that you should go inside,” he said softly, “but as you know, I’m a no-good bastard. I can’t send you away until I see with my own eyes that you’re truly alright.”

Lia looked barely better—perhaps those three paces of distance had bought her only three paces of composure.

“I’m fine,” she said faintly, her voice as flat as ever.

“You don’t look fine.”

“You just caught me off guard, saying strange things. Don’t say things like that again.”

All he’d said was that he would stay by her side no matter how many times she pushed him away.

And he had meant it.

Even now, after she’d nearly passed out in front of him, he still couldn’t bring himself to walk away.

Because Ricardo knew her. He knew all her bad habits.

Right now, Lia was trying to push him away.

Just like she had with Margaret—deliberately choosing words that would hurt him enough to make him leave on his own.

“Sorry, no—actually, I’m not sorry,” he said.
“Words can’t be taken back, and I already spilled mine at your feet. I’m going to keep pouring them out, by the bucketful, whether you like it or not.”

“Ricardo. We—we can’t do this.”

Ricardo noticed the shift.

She had started to say we, but changed it to I.

That meant something.

She had been about to let him in. Something had made her change her mind—and it was something only she understood.

He wondered if it was her past. The part of her life before she became who she was now.

Lia didn’t show emotion easily.

When Ricardo first met her, he had mistaken that for wisdom—maybe even transcendence.

But now he knew better.

She was simply surrounded by layers of shields, refusing to let anyone in. A fortress made of silence.

And Ricardo, ever observant, realized how perfect that metaphor was.

A fortress was meant for war—and Lia saw the world as a battlefield.

She was hiding, wrapped in her shell for protection.

At that point, Ricardo paused, wondering whether he’d committed blasphemy in comparing her to a walled-off castle.

Even if he no longer worshipped her the way he once did, wasn’t faith the opposite of logic anyway?

It was natural to fall into old habits—even blasphemous ones.

“If this is something you’re allowed to do, but I’m not…” he said casually, “then fine. Just don’t push me away. Let me be here. I’m not asking for anything else. You live your life, I’ll live mine. Just… let me stay.”

He tried to sound lighthearted, though the bitterness clung to his tongue.

He’d hoped. He’d really hoped.
But if Lia truly didn’t want him, he couldn’t force himself into her life.

“No.”

The word came sharper than he expected. A firm rejection.

Ricardo took a step toward her instinctively, then stopped himself.

“If I leave things as they are, it won’t stay the same. That’s why I can’t let you.”

Her voice wavered.

Lia rarely showed emotion—but right now, she was breaking.

“I was foolish. Arrogant. That’s how this happened. But maybe it’s not too late. Maybe I can still fix it. I can hold myself back. Pretend I don’t know how I feel. I’m good at that. And if I do it long enough… maybe I’ll really forget. So this is right.”

She wasn’t really talking to him. It was more like she was talking to herself—trying to convince herself, to hold the line.

Ricardo, of course, only heard what he wanted to hear.

I can hold myself back.
If I pretend long enough, I’ll forget.

Which meant… she hadn’t forgotten. Not yet.

“I’m coming closer. Don’t be scared.”

He warned her before moving, just in case she panicked again.

Lia flinched, but she didn’t run.

She stayed rooted to the spot, even as he closed the gap between them.

It’s probably blasphemy, he thought again, but she looks like a rabbit caught in a trap.

The image came to mind only because it was the cutest animal he could think of.
Not a happy rabbit, bounding through fields—but one trembling, unable to run.

It made her all the more precious.

And maybe that was the truth—he liked her better this way. Not free, not far, but right here, captured by him.

“Don’t…” she whispered.

The word was soft now, weaker.

Ricardo studied her carefully. Was this a real refusal?

If it was, he would back away—he meant that.
He wouldn’t stop watching from afar, but he’d leave her alone.

But as he moved closer, Lia didn’t look afraid of him.

Instead, she kept nervously picking at her fingers—hurting herself.

Like she was punishing herself for feeling anything at all.

“You want me.”

At last, with just a single step left between them, Ricardo asked.

Lia parted her lips as if to deny it. But her body was more honest—her head shook, but side to side, not in refusal.

“The mutual binding contract… I meant some of it,” Ricardo said quietly.
“Just binding myself to you would’ve been intoxicating. But if I could bind you too? That would be beyond euphoria—ecstasy.”

He paused.

He wanted to pull her into his arms, hold her tight, and keep speaking from there.

The thought was shameless, but in truth, he couldn’t even lift a finger without her permission.

So, he allowed himself the thought. After all, sinful thoughts didn’t count as actual sins.

It was twisted logic, but it gave him peace—and Ricardo decided he’d accept that peace, however flawed.

“I know you’re not like me. Maybe our relationship will never be balanced. But I don’t care. It wasn’t equal to begin with. If I walk ten steps and you take even one toward me, that’s enough.”

“And then you, Ricardo, ten steps ahead, will cross the finish line and walk off the track without a second thought.”

Lia’s voice was cool, biting even—
But beneath the surface, it was laced with fear.

“And I’ll be left alone, still running because I have no other choice. I won’t be able to stop or quit. I don’t want that. I don’t.”

She inhaled.

“Yes, I was drawn to you. The idea of becoming a duchess didn’t seem so bad, either. But look at the Duchess of Bastian. Think of Her Majesty the Queen. Even Lady Joanna, for God’s sake—tell me, is anyone truly happy?”

Ricardo listened in silence.
Perhaps this was the first time he’d ever truly heard Lia’s real voice—her true fears.

“You say you want me,” she continued, her tone trembling now, “after insisting your feelings weren’t love. But now you don’t even try to hide it. Love is just a feeling, Ricardo. And feelings fade. Some of them destroy people. I don’t want to destroy someone else. But more than that, I don’t want to be destroyed.”

“So—”

“So, you won’t even start,” Ricardo finished for her.
“You’d rather not take the first step than risk how it ends.”

Lia nodded.

Ricardo quietly reached into his coat and pulled out a small dagger.

“If that’s how it ends, Lia…”

He sighed inwardly.
From fairy tale knight to thriller villain—his love story had taken a strange turn.

“Kill me. If I’m the one who ruins you, then erase me. Maybe once I’m gone, you’ll be able to return to who you were.”

“Right. And after I kill someone, I’ll go to prison and totally forget why I ever cared in the first place.”

A very Lia-like response.

Ricardo may have been halfway unhinged, but she, as always, remained astonishingly calm.

He studied her closely.

That wasn’t a cold look. That was fear—the kind born from loving someone so much it shook you to the core.

And then Ricardo understood.

Lia wasn’t afraid of someone else changing their mind.

She was afraid of herself—of what she might become.

Maybe it had something to do with a past he didn’t know. But that didn’t matter.

What mattered was now.

He adjusted his grip on the dagger.

“Let me correct myself.”

Lia didn’t flinch. She stared directly at the sharp blade in his hand without a hint of fear.

“If I ever change… I’ll let you kill me.”

If Penelope had heard that, she would’ve screamed, “What kind of marriage proposal is that?!”

But Ricardo meant it.

He was certain—his feelings would never change.

If what Lia feared most was being abandoned and left behind, then yes, Ricardo would say something this insane just to calm her heart.

And look—
Her face was starting to crumble.

“You’ll let me kill you,” she repeated.

It was falling apart, but not in despair.

There was something in her expression now—almost like hope.

“You’re saying, if you change your mind, you’ll let me kill you.”

So much for being a knight in shining armor.

Ricardo quickly abandoned the fantasy. He’d never truly wanted to be a prince on a white horse anyway.

From this point forward, if he had to become a man who would let the woman he loved kill him—
then so be it.

“Yes. I promise.”

“I want more than that.”

“I swear, Lia. If we ever end, it’ll be because you ended me.”

It wasn’t a lie.
Ricardo intended to love her until the day she naturally stopped breathing.

Naive as she was, Lia smiled brightly—genuinely reassured.

Ricardo smiled back, hiding everything behind it.

So, what if he became a madman, a killer in love?

If it made her feel safe enough to smile like that, it was worth it.

And just like that, Ricardo went from bastard-born to would-be knight, and now—her appointed psychotic lover.

It didn’t matter.

He didn’t care if “bastard” or “knight” where names others gave him.

But this—this title, Lia’s title for him—it was his favorite.

Because no matter what it meant, it came from her.

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