Ch 2: Silence after the Music

The heavy doors shut behind me with a final thud.

My mother’s features were tight with worry. The silence in the chambers pressed against my ribs like cold stone. The room was opulent—Storm green and Valemont gold laced into the curtains and bedding, as if colours could stitch together what history had torn apart.

I tore off the gloves first. Then the earrings. Then the necklace that clung too tightly to my throat.

The mirror caught me—half-undressed, flushed with humiliation, eyes bright with rage.

He had left me standing in front of everyone.

The first dance—the one gesture that might’ve softened the night—refused like poison. A mockery. A public execution of my dignity.

I sank into the edge of the chaise, the skirts of my gown blooming around me like wilted petals. The string quartet had kept playing after he walked off. I had stayed frozen, every eye in the grand hall fixed on me, the discarded bride. The ladies whispered behind their fans. The men averted their gazes. And the servants… even they looked sorry.

But I didn’t cry.

Not in front of them.

Only now, alone with my mother, did the ache finally rise.

“Mother… can’t you stay here with me?” I whispered, the plea trembling in my throat.

“I would love to,” she said, settling beside me and guiding my head gently to her shoulder. “But my hands are tied.”

“I don’t want to stay married to him,” I sniffed. “Can’t you speak to Father?”

“They’ll warm up to you soon enough,” she said, parting my hair as she always had when I was a child. “Just like the people back in Highmere, Rosendal will love you too.”

I sat up slowly, wiping at my face. “When are you leaving?”

“Tonight,” she said softly. “Your brother’s engagement is underway. I have to be there.”

“Let me come with you,” I begged. “He’s my brother—”

She cracked her usual smile, and I broke.

She had defied Father’s command just to escort me here. But even she couldn’t stay.

“They can’t escape your charm and intelligence. You’ll see,” she said, pulling me close. “And if all this doesn’t work out, you are always welcome back in Highmere. The doors will always be open to you.”

I shook as more tears fell down my cheeks. She held me, patted my back, then gently pulled away and wiped my tears.

“I’ll write you,” she said, kissing my cheek. “And you’ll write me.”

My mother looked around the grand room, her fingers brushing over the embroidery on the bedding as if texting their strength.

"Shall I help you prepare for bed?" She asked gently.

I blinked, "You don't have—"

"Let me," she interrupted, her smile faint. "Just one last time."

She stood and crossed to the wardrobe, drawing out a nightgown of fine cotton and lace. I rose slowly, letting her unfasten the dozen of tiny clasps down the back of my wedding gown. Her fingers were deft, practiced. As a child I'd always hated staying still while she worked through knots and buttons. Tonight I stood still as a statue. Afraid if I moved I'd shatter.

The gown slipped from my shoulders making a pool at my feet. She helped me into the nightgown, smoothing the fabric down with delicate hands. Then she brushed my hair, each pull through my curls was a comfort, a lullaby with no melody.

"There," she said placing the comb down on the dressing table.

I turned to her, wrapping my arms around her tightly.

"I don't want you to go," I murmured into her shoulder. "I'm not ready."

"You don't have to be," she said. "You just have to try. I do believe in your spirit and your gentleness. Before you know it this place will feel like home just like it did back in the days."

She stepped back and cupped my face.

"What happened years ago is still fresh in him. But that doesn't have to make him cruel."

I nodded.

She kissed my forehead, a feather—light press of lips that felt like a chapter closing.

"Sleep well And I bless your union. May you enjoy happiness and joy in your new journey,"

"I love you,"

"I love you too, Flower."

She left quietly with one final look over her shoulder. The door shut behind her, softly this time. But it felt like a thunderclap in my chest.

I crawled into the vast bed alone. The blankets too heavy, the silence too loud.

And for the first time since childhood, I wished I could wake up back in Highmere. Where the air smelled of pine and laughter and war was whispered by adults in rooms I wasn't allowed in.