She stepped into the light, her face shadowed with sorrow.
There was no need to explain.
The need for closure.
The faint hope for something human in him?—
It was all laid bare in my eyes.
“Are you certain, Lady Elizabeth?”
Her words were soft but heavy—weighted with the hopelessness we both felt.
I nodded, the tremble in my lips betraying the pain.
“I need to.”
We climbed back into the carriage, the horses sensing our urgency.Their hooves struck the dirt road with a restless rhythm as they carried us toward a farewell steeped in dread and longing.
I clung to a sliver of hope—not for forgiveness but for clarity, to clear the air soured by secrets, lies, and bloodshed.
The carriage jolted violently over a rut, nearly pitching me forward.
I gripped the seat’s edge, my knuckles white, breath shallow.
Outside, the landscape blurred, trees and hedgerows racing past.
I saw none of it.
My mind was fixed on the house.
And the man inside it.
Every mile closer felt like a stone pressing against my lungs.
I should have been relieved to leave it behind—his rage, his contempt, his damnation of me.
I should have embraced freedom, the promise of a new life beyond his reach.
But instead—I turned back.Unable to let go without one last word.
What was I hoping for?
A kind word?
That man was gone.
Buried beneath bitterness.
Rage.
And scars that ran deeper than flesh.
But still?—
I had to face him.
One last time.
