The Tyrant's Stolen Bride-Chapter 140: Before I Close My Eyes

"You deserve someone better than me—someone who can return your love and grow old with you."

Mia turned away, staring at her hands instead.

"Don’t say that nonsense. How do you know they can grow old with me?" he snapped suddenly, his raised voice making Mia flinch.

"No, I mean... there must be someone who—" Her words faltered.

"I don’t know, Theo. I just... I can’t let you live in my shadow. I’m going to die, and you’ll be left grieving. I don’t want that for you."

"You’ve already done it," Theo said, his voice breaking.

"I’ll grieve for the rest of my life because you never gave me even a single chance to stand by your side. You’re the only woman I want, and I would never regret marrying you."

He lowered his head, pressing his forehead into his hands, his shoulders trembling.

"Theo..."

Guilt flooded her chest. She didn’t know how she was supposed to bear seeing him like this.

That night, the house fell into an uneasy silence. Marce sat alone in her room, staring blankly after hours of crying herself dry.

Peter had told her what he overheard earlier.

She had never imagined that, in a moment like this, Mia would try to fulfill her wish so desperately.

Her palm pressed against her lips. Her mouth felt cursed. It was because of her words, because of her constant nagging, that her daughter had made such a choice. Yet she had been so quick to blame that poor guy.

A hand touched her shoulder.

"Mother."

Marce turned abruptly, rising in shock when she realized Mia was standing in her room.

"Mia."

She pulled Mia closer, gesturing for her daughter to take a seat.

"You shouldn’t be out of your room," Marce said, full of worry.

"I’m fine. I won’t fall. I knocked on the door many times, but you didn’t answer, so I just came in," Mia said.

Marce sighed as she rubbed her temple. She had been lost in her thoughts and hadn’t realized Mia was knocking.

"Are you bored staying in your room?"

"A little, but that’s not why I came here."

Mia glanced at her mother, trying to read whether it was all right to bring up the topic.

The tension between the two families existed mostly in Marce’s heart. Ever since Edris lost the woman he loved, she had believed there was an unspoken distance between them.

In truth, the Pierce had never treated Mia poorly. Aside from Elean, they had always been kind and respectful toward her.

When it came to making decisions, she had always placed her family first. That was why she tried to push Theo away, convincing herself it was the right thing to do.

But the harder she tried, the heavier the lump in her chest became.

After Theo left, restlessness clung to her like a second skin. Everything he had questioned was hard to deny. Their child deserved to be acknowledged properly and he was willing to take responsibility.

The decision rested with her.

She went to her mother’s room with the intention of talking things through. In the end, she was at a loss for words.

Her mind wandered, her eyes staring ahead, biting her lower lip, unaware that Marce was watching her.

Marce could tell Mia was hesitant about something, though she wasn’t sure what.

She clasped Mia’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Mia... I’m sorry for all this time. I kept nagging you about marriage and grandchildren," Marce said softly.

"Because I was older, I thought I would be the first to go. I believed my children should bring me joy before I closed my eyes. I never imagined it would turn out any other way."

She took a breath and cupped Mia’s face.

"From now on, if there’s anything on your mind, just tell me. I’ll listen, and I’ll try to make things easier for you, as long as it matters to you.

I don’t want to regret not having done my best for you when the time comes. I know you want me to feel content—but what matters most to me is seeing you at peace."

"Mother... I—" She hesitated, unsure whether her mother would truly accept him.

Marce sighed softly.

"I know he proposed to you. I’d be happy if you accepted him—for my grandchild’s sake, that would be enough. But the choice is yours."

She pointed at Mia’s heart.

Mia blinked. She tightened her grip on her mother’s hand.

"Really? You can truly accept him? I heard you slapped him twice when he arrived."

Marce laughed awkwardly. "Yes, yes... I’ll have to apologize to him later."

She sighed again. "That’s what happens when you keep things to yourselves and aren’t honest. From now on, don’t hide anything.

When you said he was the father, I never thought it was that kind of situation. My daughter is capable of things like this."

She shot Mia a soft glare, not out of anger, but in a playful way.

"Invite him over to the house. We’ll discuss things further. And most importantly—don’t let fear steal the time you still have."

Mia pulled her mother into a tight hug. "Thank you." She couldn’t hold the tears anymore, overwhelmed by her mother’s true understanding. Marce patted her back. They both cried a, then laughed together.

Two weeks later, the Chavan estate garden bloomed with vibrant flowers, their scents mingling in the warm afternoon air. Delicate ribbons and soft fairy lights decorated the space, turning it into a quiet sanctuary for the wedding of their eldest child.

The ceremony was small and intimate, attended only by close family and acquaintances.

The bride and groom stood at the altar, listening as the vows were spoken. Emotions rippled through the audience—some faces beamed with joy, others were misted with tears.

Among the crowd, a sharp contrast stood out. The groom’s grandmother fixed a stern, disapproving glare on the couple, while soft sobs escaped from a young doctor, gently consoled by her husband at her side.

Elean shot Lyra an irritated look. "Save your tears... you’ll need them soon enough."

"Grandma," Rowan murmured, warningly, his voice low and careful.

"I don’t know what’s gotten into my grandsons... they don’t know how to choose the right woman for them," she muttered.

Meanwhile, not far from them, Edris stood beside his family, pressing his lips together, his gaze fixed on the guests from the groom’s side—entirely on the woman he longed for.

His heart tightened as he watched how close she was with her husband, a lump forming in his chest.