Villainess is being pampered by her beast husbands-Chapter 400 --.

"Where are you going?" Veer said, teeth gritted.

Cutie blinked once. "With Kaya," he answered honestly. "There’s only—"

"Come with me," Veer cut in.

No discussion. No softness.

He tugged once more, steering Cutie away from the doorway and deeper into another side tunnel, feathers still clinging to his hair, jaw set. The message was clear enough: Kaya got one room alone tonight. Whatever talk or scolding or interrogation needed to happen with the rabbit, Veer would handle it elsewhere.

Kaya didn’t look back.

Her room was exactly as she remembered it—simple, carved from rock, a rough stone basin, a shelf, a bed platform with piled blankets. She stripped off soaked clothes with slow, stiff movements, washed the worst of the storm off her skin in cold water, the chill biting but clean.

By the time she dropped onto the bed, her limbs felt like sandbags.

The saying floated up from somewhere old: before you want to fight, you retreat first. Let the body catch up. Let the mind stop shaking.

She pulled the blanket over herself, ignoring the faint sting along her palm, the ache in her ribs, the heaviness behind her eyes. The storm outside was a distant roar now, muffled by stone.

Tonight, she decided, she wasn’t going to solve jinxed cousins, gods in her blood, or why the sky hated her.

She was going to retreat.

Into sleep. Into whatever waited behind her eyes next.

Kaya’s body gave up the moment her head hit the pillow.

Sleep dragged her under fast and heavy, the kind where even the ache in her ribs and the sting in her palm blurred into background noise. Outside the cave, storm noise softened to a dull growl against stone. Inside, darkness settled slow and deep.

Night thickened.

At some point, soft footsteps broke the quiet.

A shadow slipped into the room, stretching long against the wall as it crossed the threshold. The faint light from the main cave touched a familiar face as it drew closer.

Cutie. 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

He stopped beside her bed, looking down at her for a long moment. Kaya lay on her side, breathing slow, features smoothed out from their usual sharp lines. In sleep, her expression was calm, almost soft, the tension gone from her mouth.

Carefully, he sat on the edge of the bed.

The mattress dipped under his light weight, but Kaya didn’t stir. He lifted a hand, hesitation flickering in his eyes, then let his fingers brush her cheek. Light touch. Just the backs of his knuckles tracing the line of her face, then sliding up into her hair, tucking a damp strand behind her ear.

"Honey," he whispered.

His voice was as gentle as she’d ever heard it, almost broken at the edges.

"Honey," he said again, a little closer. "Honey... honey..."

He called her that three, four times, like the word itself was something fragile he had to relearn.

Then he bent down and pressed a kiss to her lips.

It was barely more than a peck—soft, quick, careful—but his body reacted like it had been a knife. His shoulders trembled. When he pulled back, his eyes were bright, tears gathering at the corners and spilling over.

He looked at her face like it hurt.

"Why is it... only I remember?" he whispered. "How can you forget me, honey?"

A few tears slipped down, splashing quietly onto her cheek, then the pillow. He didn’t wipe them away. His thumb traced the curve of her jaw instead, memorising it all over again.

"This face," he murmured, voice breaking. "It looks so, so like before. How did our life change so much?"

For a moment he just watched her breathe, chest rising and falling under the blanket.

"Don’t worry," he said eventually, a thin, fierce thread in his tone. "This time I won’t let anything happen to you. Even if you don’t remember anything... it’s fine. I can do all the loving. All the everything."

He gave a tiny, shaky laugh that didn’t reach his eyes.

"But honey..." His gaze flickered over her, pained. "You’re becoming too bright again. Your light... it’s shining. It’s calling those beasts to you again."

His hand curled into the blanket near her shoulder, knuckles white.

"Don’t worry," he repeated, voice low and promising. "I’ll take care of them."

He swallowed, then let the words tumble out in a soft string, like he’d been holding them back for years.

"Sweetheart. Baby. Love..." He huffed out a breath. "God knows how long it’s been since I called you that."

He looked at her sleeping face, small smile twisting with hurt.

"In sleep you look so beautiful," he said quietly. "So calm. But I know—if you heard me use these words, you wouldn’t even talk to me, right?"

His eyes went distant for a moment, chasing a memory only he could see.

"You remember what you said last time?" he asked her softly, even though she couldn’t hear. "You said you wished my name was something like Cutie or Bunny. Something stupid."

The corner of his mouth quirked, sad and fond.

"See?" he whispered. "I made it true. Now you can call me that whenever you want. No one can stop you, honey."

A lone tear broke free and slid down his cheek, dropping onto the blanket.

He exhaled, long and shaky, then eased himself down, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her gently into a careful hug from behind. His forehead rested against the back of her shoulder. He held her like that, breathing her in, body curved protectively along hers.

He knew Kaya wouldn’t wake up. Not like this. Not from this.

Maybe that was why he finally let himself hold on.

Kaya woke with her chest already tight.

No nightmare. No balcony. No burning stone this time. Just a slow, empty kind of waking, eyes opening to the dim cave ceiling and the grey slice of light at the entrance.

And wet.

Her lashes stuck for a second. A tear slid sideways into her hairline. Another tracked down toward her ear. For a heartbeat she thought it was leftover rain—but the storm sound was gone, and the wet was warm.