--
When Lucas woke up, the room was immersed in an unfamiliar silence. He slowly opened his eyes and sat up, and his gaze fell upon Irene, still deeply asleep—more so than usual in the mornings.
He got up quietly, carefully slipped on his shoes to avoid making a sound, then put on his heavy coat. He looked at her one last time before leaving, turned the handle, and exited silently, closing the door behind him.
Hours passed, and at seven in the morning, Sally arrived, carrying a small tray with a cup of warm milk and some toasted bread—just the way Irene liked it. She opened the door gently, and the moment she saw her, she froze.
Irene was still asleep, her features incredibly peaceful and beautiful, as if sleep had finally embraced her. Sally tiptoed closer, stared at her for a moment, then smiled and placed the tray on the nearby table.
She stepped out of the room and turned to one of the maids in the corridor, saying:
— "Please don't wake her… Let her sleep as long as she wants."
**
When the palace clock struck eleven, Irene slowly opened her eyes. The pale sunlight poured through the window, casting its soft glow on the floor, while the air outside still carried the scent of fresh snow.
She sat up, rubbed her eyes, and took a deep breath. Her body felt light, and her mind clearer than usual.
— "I actually slept… I really did."
She got up, changed her clothes, and put on a thick winter coat, then went out for a walk alone in the palace's back garden.
Snow had blanketed the entire ground, and the trees stood silently, their branches adorned with shiny white layers. She tread carefully on the icy paths until she reached an empty wooden bench near a frozen fountain and sat down.
She inhaled the cold air, watching her breath rise in the form of a thin mist before her. She closed her eyes for a moment, then whispered with sadness:
— "I wonder how that woman… and the other beggars are doing on a day this cold…"
Just a few minutes passed before Sally came and sat beside her, wrapped in a woolen coat and a heavy scarf. She didn't speak at first, simply exchanged glances with Irene.
Then she spoke in a warm voice:
— "Have I ever told you that I have a younger sister? She was extremely mischievous… I couldn't stand her at times."
She chuckled softly, then continued:
— "My parents always favored her. I used to think I hated her… but when she suddenly fell ill with a severe fever, it felt like my world was crumbling. I cried every night, terrified of losing her… and that's when I realized how much I actually loved her."
She looked at Irene and smiled, her eyes filled with affection:
— "When you told me you saw me as your older sister… I understood what you meant. Because I, too, see you as my little sister. You really remind me of her. So please… don't fall ill. I want to see you well always. I'll pray for you every day… so you can be free of all this pain."
Irene gazed at her with a silent, warm look, then smiled faintly and said:
— "You know, Sally… I always loved it when you braided my hair when I was little. My mother and grandmother used to do that for me… and when you did the same, it always made me feel nostalgic."
She turned to her gently and added:
— "Would you braid my hair again, Sally?"
Sally laughed warmly and said,
— "Of course. It would be my pleasure."
She removed her glove and began parting Irene's hair gently, braiding it with a tenderness that brought back the comfort of childhood.
As her fingers moved lightly through the strands, Sally said:
— "I'll write another letter to Fantine tonight."
She paused for a moment, then looked at Irene with mild surprise and asked:
— "But didn't you promise me last night that you'd rest a little today?"
Irene replied with a faint smile:
— "I did. I slept last night—for the first time in a long while—for hours. I feel more energized than I have in months. And I just… want to check on Fantine."
Sally sighed and said with gentle warning:
— "Just that… nothing more, please."
Irene laughed and nodded:
— "Yes, as you command, big sister."
Sally laughed as she finished the braid:
— "Well done, little sister."
And they stayed like that… in the white garden, hearts warm despite the snow, as if time had stopped for a moment to offer them a brief peace.
—
In the evening, Irene sat at her small desk by the window. Snow still fell gently outside, tracing quiet patterns on the glass, while the crackling fire in the hearth filled the room with a warm, steady hum.
She picked up her pen and began to write, with a steady hand and a pounding heart:
> "Dear Fantine,
How are you now? I hope you're safe and in better health than when I last saw you.
I just wanted to check on you…"
She paused for a moment, sighed, then continued writing:
> "But today, I'll ask you something different…
Do you remember that old house? The one you used to send money to? … I need you to go there, if you can. You might find something useful—a letter, a document, or even a broken piece of the past belonging to my mother or grandparents. Anything… any clue that might help me take one step closer to the my goal
This sum of money should cover your travel and all your needs. Please accept it as a gift from me."
At the end of the letter, she signed with a name that wasn't Sally's, nor her own.
She handed it to Sally, who knew exactly what needed to be done, but glanced at the name and said:
— "You could've just written my real name… I doubt anyone would suspect a thing."
Irene looked at her for a long moment, then said quietly:
— "I told you before, Sally… I will never drag you into this. This path is mine alone."
Sally said nothing, but the emotion in her eyes couldn't be hidden.
**
As dinner approached, Irene wore a simple dark burgundy dress and tied her hair in a braid done by Sally. She headed to the dining hall, unaware that the evening held more than just a meal.
The moment she entered, she was surprised to see an unexpected guest—Anita was there, sitting calmly beside Violet, her smile cold as she stared directly at Irene, her gaze brimming with malice.
Irene didn't care. She walked in slowly, and before she could say anything, Elizabeth spoke warmly:
— "Come closer, Irene…"
Irene bowed slightly out of respect, then took a seat after greeting everyone, quietly observing the faces around the table. Moments later, the door opened… and Lucas walked in.
A flicker of surprise crossed Irene's face—for the first time since her arrival, he showed up at dinner. She thought to herself,
"Did something happen today…?"
He approached his mother and leaned down to kiss her forehead:
— "Happy birthday, Mother."
Elizabeth laughed joyfully and patted his hand:
— "Thank you for not disappointing me… I knew you'd come."
She motioned for him to sit, but he refused and was about to leave when Elizabeth stood up and said:
— "Please, Lucas. Just for today—stay and eat with us."
Then came a sudden outburst from Violet:
— "It's a special day for our mother… If you came, then at least sit down!"
The entire table fell silent when Richard finally spoke for the first time, his voice calm:
— "Lucas… sit."
Lucas remained standing, his back to the table, letting out a slow sigh.
Irene, feeling the tension in the air and somehow sensing she was the cause of his hesitation, looked at him and said softly:
— "If you don't want to sit because of me… I'll leave. I didn't know today was Lady Elizabeth's birthday. I truly—"
Elizabeth cut her off immediately:
— "No, it's not because of you, Irene."
But the real surprise came when Richard said:
— "It's because of me."
Irene looked at him and, for the first time, saw in Richard's usually stern expression a hint of sorrow.
Violet pleaded:
— "Father, please…"
Then turned to her brother and stood up:
— "Lucas, if you don't sit, I'll leave too."
He glared at her but finally sat down—across from Irene, next to Violet.
Yet the atmosphere had already become heavy, thick like smoke in a sealed room.
**
Irene turned to Elizabeth and said with a faint smile:
— "I hope you're having a lovely birthday. If I had known, I would've prepared a gift before coming… but I'll give you something soon."
Elizabeth laughed and replied gently:
— "Don't trouble yourself, dear. I don't need anything."
Violet added:
— "We're throwing a party in the garden tomorrow—we've been planning it for a while."
Elizabeth nodded and said:
— "If you'd like, you're welcome to join us, Irene."
Irene quickly answered:
— "Of course. I'll be there… for my mother-in-law."
Anita scoffed and muttered loud enough to be heard:
— "Let's see what the show will be tomorrow."
But Irene didn't hear her. She was already lost in her thoughts—a small fracture formed inside.
Why didn't anyone tell me today was Elizabeth's birthday? Or anything about the party?
She felt the same way she used to in Ascard—left out of celebrations, even her siblings' weddings.
She was always the last to know. No one cared about her presence or opinion. In fact, she was often forbidden to attend—not just by her father, but by her siblings and their wives.
There might be some difference in Valerian… but in that moment, something shattered.
That faint sense of belonging she had started to feel toward this family—like a small blooming flower—began to fade… little by little.
---
For anyone wandering why i didn't post yesterday i just take a little break sorry if i made anyone wait 🙏🏻❤️