As Phyllis stood by the window, a soft breeze whispered through the curtains, carrying the sweet scent of blooming flowers from the garden below. At that moment, she noticed one of the gardeners. As if beckoned to her, he lifted his gaze to meet hers. He waved cheerfully. The gentle wave felt like a comforting farewell, a reminder of the warmth she was leaving behind. The vibrant colors of the blossoms painted a vivid contrast against the heavy ache in her heart.
Her gaze lingered on the meticulously manicured garden, each petal and leaf a testament to the care bestowed upon the estate. It was a living tapestry of memories, laughter, and stolen glances that now threatened to unravel. The decision to part from this haven, with its familiar faces and tender moments, weighed heavily on her soul.
She had slowly come to accept this place as her new home, and the man in it her life companion, in whatever manner they would grow to come together. But having overheard the truth dispersed all her hopes. Her heartbreak was complete and undeniable, despite all her efforts to build a wall around her heart and remain untouchable. It seemed that it was all a futile effort, because Alexander’s light managed to pierce through the darkness. Only now, that light was taken away and Phylis knew that she would be even worse off now than she was before.
With a deep sigh, Phyllis turned away from the window, her eyes misty with unshed tears. The pull of duty and the ache of an uncertain future tugged at her spirit. As she approached the door, she carried with her the bittersweet essence of a garden left behind, a silent witness to the choices that shaped her destiny. With a heavy heart, she cast one last lingering glance at the room that held memories, both sweet and bitter, before turning away to face the uncertain road that awaited her beyond the threshold.
She descended the grand staircase with purpose, her heart heavy with the weight of impending departure. Determined steps carried her to the waiting coachman, whose weathered face bore witness to countless comings and goings at Woldaves estate.
“James,” she addressed the man, her voice betraying the turmoil within, “I must return to the city urgently. Please, prepare the carriage.”
The man recognized the urgency in her tone. Whether or not he questioned this sudden departure, he did not voice this surprise. “Right away, Your Grace. We can start immediately. The carriage is ready.”
“Good,” she nodded, feeling heartbroken, but absolutely certain that she needed to do this. There was no other way.
As the coachman hurried to drive the carriage to the house, Phyllis stood on the doorstep, casting one last wistful glance at the estate she had briefly called home. The manor, bathed in the warm hues of the setting sun, seemed to echo the sentiments of farewell. The imposing facade, the sprawling gardens, and the hushed whispers of the countryside held the memories of a chapter in her life that was closing.
Several minutes later, James approached her, his steady presence offering a small comfort to her, as she stood at the threshold of departure, a cascade of conflicting emotions playing across her features. Her bag exchanged hands, a tangible weight seemed to shift from her shoulders to his. The truth was that he could take her heavy bag, but he could never relieve her of the burden of her heavy heart.
“Thank you, James,” she uttered, her voice betraying the internal struggle she faced.
She lingered in front of the carriage, as if an invisible force had been keeping her from stepping into it. Phyllis hesitated for a moment, her gaze lingering on the grand facade of the Woldaves estate. She wanted to imprint it in her memory, because she knew that once she left its confines, she would never be returning here again. She would not be able to, because the pain would be too grand, too unbearable.
With a heavy sigh, she gripped at the handle, deciding that there was no point in lingering unnecessarily. She was only prolonging the inevitable. She had to leave… now. Otherwise, she feared she would never leave, and she would remain here, brokenhearted, forever, like a specter haunting the walls of this ancient mansion.
Just as she was about to climb into the carriage, she froze, her heart leaping in her chest at the sound of Alexander’s urgent call.
“Phyllis, wait!”
She turned, hope flickering in her eyes as she saw Alexander in the doorway, his figure clear against the backdrop of the manor.
CHAPTERTHIRTY
At first, Alexander didn’t think he was seeing things clearly when he walked over to the window and saw Phyllis lingering in front of the carriage, which was evidently getting ready to leave the estate. Without thinking he rushed down the stairs, catching her just as she was ready to embark on her journey.
“Phyllis, wait!” he shouted, as his voice echoed.
He was breathless, his mind a blank of nothingness, being filled with anguishing thoughts of her leaving. She stopped, turning to him questioningly. He could see the look of despair in her eyes, and it hurt him more than he could ever describe in mere words.
“What are you doing, Phyllis?” he demanded to know, his voice breathless and urgent. “Where are you going?”
“I am going to my sister’s,” she explained. “Not that you would care about that. You don’t care whether I am here or not.”
His brow furrowed. “That is not true. When we got married, we took a vow.”
“A vow of pretense,” she reminded him of something he did not like to be reminded of. But it was true, nonetheless.
“Where is all of this coming from, Phyllis?” he asked. He couldn’t understand what had happened to make her react in this rash manner.
“I can’t do this anymore, Alexander,” she told him, her voice on the verge of breaking. “I can no longer stand this pretense. I thought I would be able to, but I can’t. I’m not strong enough for it.”
“So, you were just going to disappear like that, without a word?” he asked incredulous at what she was about to do.
He knew that they were discussing private affairs outside, where anyone could overhear them, but propriety was the least of his concerns. He wanted to understand why she was doing this.
“I would have written to you from Joyce’s home,” she explained. “And I would have told you that I want an annulment.”
“An… annulment?” he gasped.
