Between Friendship and Forever

Chapter 1

In the bustling restaurant, Lydia Fairchild's fork and knife clattered against her plates, the noise punctuating her fiery glare directed at the lazy man across from her. Sir Cedric Ravenswood leaned back nonchalantly in his chair, his legs crossed and a glass of red wine in hand, swirling it delicately while seemingly taking in every detail of their encounter.
Her very own Cedric sat right in front of her, and their distance felt like it was shrinking by the second. It was a powerful feeling—one that she had wanted to savor but couldn't overshadow her simmering frustration.
"I can't believe you aren’t going to explain yourself," she said sharply, slamming her knife against the plate.
Sir Cedric set his glass down, raising a brow. "Lydia, please, keep it down; this is a public place. If everyone saw my wife acting like this—"
"Wife?" Lydia's voice shot up incredulously. How could he say that so easily?
Just hours earlier, Major Cedric Ravenswood had channeled the power of their family name to send a marriage certificate directly to her teaching position. A swift transition from single lady to military wife and it left her reeling.
"What the hell are we even doing? Is this a joke to you?"
“It’s not a joke,” Cedric replied, gently sliding her plate closer to her, his demeanor amiable. He cut his steak into perfect little pieces before pushing it back toward her, wholly unfazed by her white-hot anger.
"You know this isn’t what I signed up for," she snapped back at him.
Cecid's tone took on a playful sing-song rhythm. "But we’ve always been best friends, right?"
Lydia scoffed, her anger only rising. "Being childhood friends doesn’t mean we have to get married."
Sir Cedric offered her a glass of water, his smile radiating warmth and mischief—the very gaze that usually melted her heart. "But you have heard of 'Engaged by Fate,' haven’t you?”
“What a load of nonsense, Sir Cedric! Can you speak plainly for a change?” Lydia cried out.
As she stared at his infuriatingly cheerful face, her instincts kicked in; she almost hurled the glass of water at him.
“A convenient amnesia on your part. I might’ve spoiled you too much,” he conceded playfully, shielding his face. "But come on, that’s how these things go. My wife should act a little crazy now and then."
“Cedric!” she warned through clenched teeth.
“Fine, I promise to behave. But we both know who held your hand first and who stole that first kiss. Care to reminisce?”
He grinned widely, raising his glass in a mock toast, savoring the wine as though every moment was a celebration of their chaotic reunion. After five long years apart, a mere mission had brought him back to her, and he felt overwhelmed with joy. It took every ounce of self-control not to break out into a wild cheer.
"You..." she trailed off, knowing deep down that he was right. But how was it fair to pin that on him? She’d been a baby then—how could he hold her to that? If he was taking responsibility now, what about all the other kids from their childhood? They’d have a long line to answer to as well.
Their banter continued, each remark another playful jab—but Lydia couldn’t shake the feeling engulfing her; this wasn’t just about old friends playing house. Their very fates seemed tangled together, far too intricately woven to simply untangle without pain.
In the backdrop of that buzzing restaurant, amid laughter and clinking glasses, she realized something profound. Their relationship was far deeper than mere childhood antics, and the road ahead promised to be anything but simple.

Chapter 2

Lydia Fairchild watched the conflicted expression on Sir Cedric Ravenswood's face and knew exactly what he was thinking. In a clear voice, she said, "Don’t look at me like that. I’ve held your hand and kissed you since we were kids. I’m perfectly innocent here."
It was true; Sir Cedric Ravenswood had this issue—no one was allowed to touch him! But why, throughout their childhood, did he always seem to tackle her at every turn?
Raising an eyebrow, Lydia smirked teasingly, "Cedric, are you worried that no one would want to marry you? If that’s the case, I can’t blame you. After all, we are close, and our families are deeply entwined."
As she spoke, her lively eyes roamed over Sir Cedric, eventually lingering in a suggestive spot.
“Cough, cough…”
Sir Cedric nearly choked on his own saliva. This woman had a mind that could conjure the most outrageous scenarios. Did he really have to prove himself to her in that regard? And to think he’d been preparing for this moment for years!
“Fine, you don’t have to take responsibility, but you will have some obligations to me, right?” he abruptly countered.
Sir Cedric Ravenswood was always a man with multiple plans; he quickly shifted to Plan B.
Seeing the confusion on Lydia’s face, he feigned innocence, looking a bit bashful, "Little Cedric here has been seen by you."
“Ha!” Lydia burst out laughing.
Indeed, after their physiology class at fourteen, she had yanked down Sir Cedric’s pants to take a peek. He had stubbornly resisted; it was one thing to pamper her, but another to compromise his manly dignity.
However, just a single remark from Lydia crumbled his defenses.
Noticing his disgruntled silence, she relinquished her hold and pouted, “Whatever, if you won’t let me see, I’ll find someone else.”
The two of them were hit by a wave of conflicted feelings at that moment!
“Oliver Ravenswood (virgin)!” Sir Cedric exclaimed.
His statement only reinforced that his "Little Cedric" had not been seen by anyone else. A twenty-seven-year-old man with an impressive family background, Sir Cedric had spent five years in the Congo on peacekeeping missions. Did he really not find a foreign soldier to help relieve his “physical needs”?
“You dare call him again!” Sir Cedric growled, darkening his expression.
He was a clean-freak; how could he casually engage with another woman? Besides, in his heart, there had only ever been her. After being dispatched to the Congo, he’d been swamped and the brief moments of free time were always spent thinking about her!
“What, are you not?” Lydia pressed fiercely.
Sir Cedric smirked wickedly, "Well, then it seems tonight I shall be in your hands, Mrs. Fairchild!"
“Why should I?” Lydia shot back, glaring.
“The wedding night!”
A glass of water splashed unexpectedly, and Sir Cedric nimbly dodged it. Tsk, he realized he’d stepped on her toes.
Raising his hands in surrender, Sir Cedric said, “Alright, no more jokes. Let me be honest; I’ve wanted a wife who truly cares for me since childhood. In high school, I was envious of you bringing breakfast to Gideon Ashford every day, wishing for a girl who would do the same for me. In college, I watched you crumble after breaking up with Lord Percival Wyndham, crying your heart out and taking out your frustrations on me. What a devoted young lady you were.”
Setting down his napkin, he declared, “Where else would I find a girl like that? You’re right here in front of me! Plus, we're so close; why not keep it in the family?”
Lydia froze, her claws for defense falling limp. The revelation struck her as he had been there for her whole life—intimately aware of everything, even the embarrassing transition to womanhood. He knew her even better than she did herself.
For five years, her mind had been solely on her academic pursuits, making her forget painful memories. However, the mere mention of that man still twisted her heart.
Lord Percival Wyndham…

Chapter 3

Lydia Fairchild furrowed her brow, pressing her fingers to her forehead. She couldn’t stand seeing Sir Cedric Ravenswood’s upturned gaze tinged with sadness. She preferred his laughter, the kind that lit up his whole face, and even admired his fiery expression when he was angry.
Sir Cedric Ravenswood had the ability to tackle many challenges effortlessly; yet, whenever it came to Lydia, a feeling of helplessness would wash over him. He wanted desperately to create a beautiful world for her, but Lydia refused to step into that happy realm.
“Sir Cedric, if you’re serious, I think we need to make a trip to the Town Hall.”
“Why’s that?”
Cedric, clearly agitated, picked up his knife and fork to slice into his steak, his brows knitting together. Lydia reached out, placing her hand over his, aware of his growing frustration.
“Cedric, you know perfectly well that you don’t actually want me—you just want some lovesick girl who’ll be devoted to you. Sure, I fit that description, but every relationship is different. Back in high school with Gideon Ashford, it was all about having fun; when it ended, I fell apart, but that was just because I couldn’t handle losing someone who always lavished me with affection. Cedric, we’re too familiar with each other; I just can’t switch gears and live with you in that way.”
“So, what does that mean?” he asked, his tone cold and unyielding, causing Lydia to shiver. She needed to stop treating him like a mere boy. Years of military service had transformed Cedric into a proud man, a major with commendations earned through hardships.
She withdrew her hand, more resolute than before. “So, we should probably put an end to this misguided three-hour marriage.”
“Ha…”
He chuckled lightly, the earlier intensity lost. He laid down his utensils with a lazy grin, resembling a fox that had successfully pulled off a clever scheme.
“Lydia, do you really think my grandfather would just let us go on like this?”
“Wha—what?” Lydia’s jaw dropped in disbelief. “You didn’t actually tell Grandfather Ravenswood, did you?”
She had appealed to reason and emotions, yet she hadn’t expected to encounter this bombshell. If Old Master Edgar hadn’t objected from the beginning, this was a done deal. No amount of resistance could alter that.
“Therefore, Lydia, let’s go home; our elders are waiting for us.” He leaned closer, grinning like a sly fox.
This time, Lydia didn’t hesitate. She grabbed a knife and hurled it in his direction, wishing she could slice that smirk right off his face. But the quick-witted major sidestepped elegantly, avoiding the strike as if dodging bullets in the Congo.
“Hey, you trying to murder your loving husband?” Cedric exclaimed, wide-eyed.
Lydia and Cedric had grown up together, often practicing self-defense and grappling. He knew well that even if she didn’t actually hurt him, her strikes carried serious weight. Pressing his lips together, he could see that Lydia was genuinely upset.
“Then I wish it were you!”
Panic surged through Lydia. Was she truly expected to accept this absurd marriage?!
“Ugh…” Cedric wore a look of feigned oppression as he chased after her. “Come on, wifey, let’s just go home together.”
“Get lost!” Lydia roared.

Chapter 4

As they drove into The Old Manor, the entrance remained as imposing as ever, with the guard in green military uniform standing at attention. Sir Cedric Ravenswood’s car was waved through without scrutiny; the soldier raised his hand in a formal salute, somber and serious.
Lydia Fairchild felt a strange mix of familiarity and alienation wash over her, a sensation that both excited and terrified her. It had been ten years since she fled from this place after her father's incident, and now, returning felt like stepping into a time capsule where everything had changed except the echoes of her past.
A flood of memories surged through her mind, and she fought back tears, overwhelmed.
As she closed her eyes and passed through the grand gates, she realized her life had irrevocably shifted here. She had become the Lady Ravenswood, admired by many, yet the sense of loneliness gnawed at her.
"Ah, young master, young lady!"
Elder Agnes, the loyal housekeeper, had been eagerly waiting at the doorway, her face lighting up at the sight of them—tears of joy glistening in her eyes.
"Elder Agnes, it's so good to see you!" Lydia managed a smile, holding back the emotion threatening to spill over.
Agnes nodded enthusiastically, wiping her tears as she said, "Come inside quickly! Lady Eleanor and General Gideon are waiting for you!"
Upon entering Ravenswood Hall, Lydia was struck by how little it had changed—still adorned with ornate antique furniture, the same delicate lavender tea set always on the coffee table, without a trace of modern appliances.
The only noticeable addition was a tall blue and white porcelain vase at the staircase's landing, complemented by a bouquet of champagne roses, adding a touch of elegance.
Lydia primly settled into the hall, head bowed shyly, embodying the role of a newlywed bride. Meanwhile, Sir Cedric's mother, Meredith Vale, and his grandmother, Autumn Leaf, beamed with delight; Lydia had grown up before their eyes and was now the apple of Cedric's eye, sparking their relief.
“Little Fairchild, our Cedric didn’t waste any time to—” Meredith paused for dramatic effect, then with a mischievous grin, added, “Since he can’t wait, you should give me a grandson soon! Ha-ha!”
“Cough…” Lydia was grateful she wasn’t drinking anything.
“Uh… Aunt, I mean, Mom, about that…” Lydia directed a glance at Cedric, hoping he might say something to ease the tension.
“You young ones should surely enjoy a few years alone first,” Autumn chimed in from her place, her demeanor surprisingly youthful despite her age. She seemed more attuned to modern trends than her busy daughter-in-law.
Cedric smirked with a laugh. “Grandma, you truly know how to get right to the point.”
He perched himself on the arm of the sofa and peeled an orange, handing a segment over to Lady Eleanor.
“Enjoying your time alone is fine, but Lydia, you know as well as anyone that Cedric is the last living branch of the Ravenswood line. It would be wise for you to begin your family soon,” Autumn added with a wink, balancing sweetness with a pointed nudge.
Cedric had once had a sister, but she had left for abroad long ago and hadn’t returned in years.
With an affectionate embrace, Cedric pulled Lydia closer, laughing. “Mom, Grandma, look at how frightened Lydia is. Honey, let’s not rush things, alright?”
Faced with the overwhelming warmth of the Ravenswood family suddenly becoming her own, Lydia fumbled with her thoughts. She had never imagined herself sitting before them in such a role.
“Cough…”
Lydia discreetly nudged Cedric, to which he held her tightly as if they were dancing, completely unyielding.
She feigned a laugh, “Haha… Yes, there’s no need to be hasty. We’ll just… take it naturally…”
Cedric caught the fury in her narrowed eyes and the way she bit her lip to stifle her irritation, and it made him grin wider. Exasperated, she wrapped her arms around his waist, all the while smiling sweetly, but beneath the surface, her fingers dug in with playful accusation.
Cedric let out a soft grunt of surprise.

Chapter 5

Lydia Fairchild found herself in the Antique Study, where she met the venerable Old Master Edgar, a once-renowned general from the war years. Though he had long since stepped back from commanding forces, his presence still exuded authority that left Lydia in awe.
She gracefully poured a cup of tea for Alfred Ravenswood from the Yixing teapot before retreating to a mahogany chair. The antique craftsmanship beneath her felt intimidating now, a relic of her youth when it was merely a piece of furniture.
“Ah…” Old Master Edgar began after taking a sip, his tone relaxed, “It’s been ten years, has it not, Lydia? You were just seventeen back then; now you’re twenty-seven—a grown woman.”
Decades had passed in silence. Alfred Ravenswood had lived a life withdrawn from public view, while Lydia had spent the past nine years in her hometown, Brighthaven, studying and working, deliberately avoiding encounters tied to her past.
“Yes, grandfather Alfred.” She replied respectfully, carefully steering clear of discussing her father.
Alfred nodded, his face ruggedly handsome even in old age, embodying the quintessential gentleman of his time with strong features and sparkling eyes. Those same eyes held a piercing authority that inspired respect.
“How are your parents?”
“They’re well, and they send their regards,” she replied, keeping her answers brief.
Her eyes wandered around the familiar spaces where she had played hide-and-seek as a child. Memories of the Ravenswood family and Sir Cedric Ravenswood flooded back, bittersweet in their familiarity, yet filled with an estrangement that was hard to ignore.
Old Master Edgar, perceptive as ever, sensed her conflicted emotions. Clearing his throat to capture her attention, he gestured for her to refill his teacup, which had grown low.
“Lydia, little Cedric has been troublesome, but since you’ve reached this point, you might as well make an effort to connect. After all, there’s some history between you two.”
His voice was grave, almost like a guiding elder rather than a commanding general. Lydia found herself nodding, aware of her status in relation to Sir Cedric and the Ravenswood legacy. The Fairchild family had long been entwined with theirs, and her father’s sacrifices were not to be forgotten. It wouldn’t be appropriate to reject such ties—or the notion of becoming a Ravenswood daughter-in-law. Instead, she found herself grappling with a sense of gratitude for the opportunity…
That evening, Lydia stayed overnight at the Old Ravenswood House with Sir Cedric. Elder Agnes took care of them, providing fresh linens—vintage red embroidered bedding, a nod to old traditions. Lydia stole a glance, knowing Lady Eleanor Hart still favored the classic styles, and she dared not voice any displeasure.
After his shower, Sir Cedric collapsed onto the bed, utterly fatigued, lying still. Lydia poked him, but when he didn’t respond, she pinched him lightly. Sir Cedric leapt up, startled.
“Remember, you’re in Old Ravenswood House; keep your behavior in check.”
A chill ran through her; indeed, in this place, his well-being could invoke chaos amongst the household.
“Where am I supposed to sleep?” This was her first night at Old Ravenswood House, and she hadn’t packed a change of clothes.
Meredith Vale brought her a new nightgown, something she had never had the chance to wear. The fabric felt luxurious—silk, smooth to the touch—and Lydia’s anxiety increased. Life in the Fairchild household had been simple and modest for the past decade, and she had shed any previous indulgence.
Sir Cedric noticed her discomfort and glanced at the nightgown, both of them exchanging awkward smiles.

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