I AM NOT THE LOVE INTEREST!

Chapter 64: The Grave He Never Left

People often assumed fear was what made men obey Matthias Sinclair.

Fear of his title.

Fear of his reputation.

Fear of the calmness in his voice whenever he delivered punishment.

Among the royal knights, he was known as a man who rarely raised his temper because he never needed to. His silence alone unsettled people far more effectively than shouting ever could. Even seasoned military officers straightened instinctively in his presence, wary of disappointing him in ways they could not recover from.

The capital called him merciless.

Cold.

Unapproachable.

And perhaps those things were true now.

But fear had never been the reason Matthias became this way.

Grief was.

There had once been a time when the Sinclair Estate sounded alive.

Warm laughter drifting through the halls during late afternoons. Servants smiling more freely because the atmosphere of the household itself felt lighter. Fresh flowers constantly appearing in places they did not belong because one particular girl enjoyed decorating the estate badly and proudly.

Back then, before becoming the Royal Knight Commander feared throughout the kingdom, Matthias had simply been an older brother.

And Lyra Sinclair had been the center of his entire world.

"Brother!"

The memory returned to him vividly even now.

A younger Lyra came racing recklessly through the estate gardens beneath the spring sunlight, skirts tangled awkwardly around her ankles while several freshly picked flowers nearly spilled from her arms. She looked entirely undignified for a noble lady and completely unconcerned about it.

Matthias glanced up from his sword practice immediately.

And softened.

He always softened around her.

Lyra was six years younger than him and possessed none of the restraint expected from aristocratic daughters. She spoke too loudly, laughed too openly, and carried emotions so transparently across her face that hiding her thoughts became impossible.

Their father considered her troublesome.

Their tutors considered her exhausting.

But Matthias thought she made the estate feel human.

"You promised to teach me sword forms today," she accused dramatically while marching toward him with narrowed eyes full of betrayal.

"You are carrying flowers," Matthias pointed out calmly.

"Well, not an excuse to learn swordsmanship."

"You nearly fell into the fountain ten seconds ago."

"That," Lyra declared confidently, "was intentional."

Matthias almost laughed.

She immediately shoved the flowers into his arms afterward before attempting to grab the wooden practice sword resting nearby.

The sword nearly dragged her sideways.

Matthias sighed deeply.

"You are hopeless."

"You adore me regardless."

That, unfortunately, was correct.

The Sinclair household had never been affectionate by nature. Their father valued discipline and reputation above emotional closeness, and most conversations within the estate revolved around alliances, military standing, or noble expectations.

But Lyra disrupted that coldness effortlessly.

She wandered into Matthias’s study uninvited. Interrupted serious conversations without fear. Filled empty spaces with noise until even silence itself seemed brighter afterward.

And after their mother died from illness several years later...

Lyra became the only reason the estate still resembled a home at all.

Which was why Matthias never forgave himself for failing her.

Because when Lord Sinclair remarried, Matthias truly believed the change might help them.

Lady Beatrice entered the household carrying elegance refined enough to impress high nobility immediately. She was beautiful, soft-spoken, intelligent, and accompanied by her daughter from her previous marriage.

Elena.

At first, Matthias welcomed them politely.

Lyra looked lonely after their mother’s death. The idea of another young woman inside the estate seemed comforting rather than threatening.

Perhaps companionship would ease her grief.

Perhaps another sister would make the estate feel less empty.

Matthias still despised himself for how blind he had been.

The cruelty began quietly enough that outsiders would never notice it.

That was what made it dangerous.

Lady Beatrice never screamed.

Never openly insulted Lyra.

Everything she said sounded refined.

Reasonable.

Civilized.

Which somehow made the damage far worse.

"You should speak less loudly during gatherings, dear."

"A young lady must learn composure eventually."

"You are no longer a child."

"Elena never behaved this recklessly at your age."

Small comments.

Constant comments.

Each one harmless alone.

But repeated often enough, they became knives.

And Elena followed her mother’s example perfectly.

She smiled sweetly while humiliating Lyra beneath carefully disguised concern. Corrected her posture publicly. Mocked her interests subtly during meals. Made every insecurity feel embarrassing and childish.

At first, Lyra tried enduring it.

She laughed awkwardly afterward and pretended not to care.

But Matthias noticed the changes anyway.

She stopped running through the gardens.

Stopped barging into his office without warning.

Stopped speaking excitedly during dinner.

And worst of all...

She stopped smiling easily.

One evening, Matthias found her curled quietly beside the library window long after midnight.

Rain tapped softly against the glass while untouched tea cooled beside her hands.

"Brother," Lyra asked suddenly without lifting her gaze from the floor, "am I truly difficult to love?"

Matthias remembered feeling physically unsettled by the question.

Because Lyra had once been the brightest person he knew.

And now she sat there looking uncertain of her own worth.

"No," he answered immediately.

Lyra’s fingers tightened slightly around her sleeves.

"But Lady Beatrice says..."

"I do not care what Lady Beatrice says."

"She says noble ladies should be graceful."

"You are graceful."

"She says I embarrass father."

Matthias’s expression hardened.

"You do not."

Lyra hesitated afterward before speaking more quietly.

"Elena says no respectable man would willingly marry someone exhausting like me." 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

Something dark settled heavily inside Matthias’s chest that night.

Because suddenly...

He understood.

This was no longer ordinary household tension.

They were dismantling her deliberately.

And Lyra, desperate for affection after losing their mother, kept trying harder and harder to earn kindness from people incapable of offering it sincerely.

Matthias confronted his father afterward.

The argument lasted nearly two hours behind closed doors.

But Lord Sinclair dismissed everything.

"Women quarrel," his father stated coldly. "You are involving yourself in childish domestic matters."

Childish.

Even years later, Matthias nearly laughed remembering it.

There had been nothing childish about watching someone slowly lose the will to exist.

So Matthias tried protecting her himself instead.

He reduced his military assignments whenever possible and spent more time inside the estate. He attended dinners specifically to prevent Lady Beatrice from cornering Lyra verbally. Whenever Elena attempted humiliating remarks during social gatherings, Matthias silenced them immediately.

But cruelty inside a household became poison eventually.

It seeped into walls.

Into mirrors.

Into thoughts people could no longer escape alone at night.

And Lyra...

Lyra had always loved too deeply.

She believed every cruel word eventually.

Matthias still remembered the final conversation they shared.

Rainstorm winds battered violently against the estate windows while Lyra sat near the fireplace staring into nothing.

She looked exhausted.

Emotionally worn thin which Matthias failed to recognize soon enough.

"Brother," she asked softly, "if someone becomes too burdensome... does their absence eventually make things easier for everyone else?"

The memory still made him feel ill.

Because Matthias answered too casually.

"Do not say foolish things."

He should have stayed with her.

Should have listened properly.

Should have understood.

But Matthias had been summoned urgently to knight headquarters that evening regarding military conflicts near the western border.

And Matthias Sinclair had spent his entire life obeying duty ever since he became a knight.

By the time he returned the following morning...

Lyra was dead.

Officially, the Sinclair Estate announced sudden illness.

No scandal followed.

No rumors spread publicly.

The matter disappeared quietly beneath noble influence and carefully controlled information.

But Matthias knew the truth.

Because he found the letter hidden beneath her mattress himself.

’Brother,

I truly tried.

I tried becoming quieter.

Kinder.

More graceful.

I tried becoming someone easier to love.

But I think something inside me became too tired.

Please do not blame anyone.

I am merely not enough.’

Something inside Matthias died with her.

Lady Beatrice eventually succumbed to illness years later.

Elena married into another noble family and vanished from the Sinclair Estate permanently.

And Matthias?

Matthias buried his sister near the small garden she once destroyed constantly while pretending to help gardeners arrange flowers.

Then he purchased the townhouse where she had once lived during her academy days.

And refused to let anyone rebuild upon the land afterward.

Because it was the final place where Lyra had still sounded happy.

Which was why Matthias Sinclair despised women who abused social power against weaker women more than anything else.

Why cruelty disguised as elegance enraged him immediately.

Why he became fiercely protective toward isolated women trapped inside hostile noble households.

Maybe it did somehow reminded him of the regrets he had kept buried.