Unscramble Concern

The Clan Healer told me that without the vial of Progenitor's Blood, the Blood Blight afflicting me meant I had only seventy-two hours to live. But my husband, Miles, the new Duke of our world, gave the only vial of the precious cure to my adopted sister, Vivienne, the woman I had turned three years ago. "She's in agony from the rejection, Isolde. It's a pain you can't possibly understand." His tone was self-righteous, devoid of any concern for the patch of skin on my collarbone already turning to stone. I nodded, watching as the life-saving, dark red liquid slid down another woman's throat. I accomplished a great deal in the time I had left. As I signed the documents, the lawyer's hand trembled. "Are you certain you want to transfer everything, Your Grace? The territorial rights of a thousand-year-old clan..." I didn't hesitate. "Yes. To Vivienne." My adopted daughter, Lily, the girl I had risked everything to save, who was now forever frozen at the age of eight, cowered in Vivienne's arms, pointing at me and screaming, "Aunt Vivienne is my real mommy! You're the witch who turned us into monsters!" I offered no defense. "Yes, that's right. Be a good girl and listen to your new mother now." The Progenitor's Ring, the symbol of the clan's supreme authority, now rested on Vivienne's hand. "Oh, sister, you're too kind," she sobbed, her sobs a practiced performance. "I'll be sure to protect the family in your stead." I nodded. "You'll run things better than I ever did." I even signed away my control over the Elder Council, a council sustained by my own blood. For the first time in a century, a shadow of complex emotion crossed Miles's face. He stared at me,"Isolde, stop fighting. It's better this way. You need to rest." Yes. On my deathbed, I had finally become the perfect, submissive Isolde they always wanted. An Isolde who was about to turn to dust. The seventy-two-hour countdown had begun. I wondered, when I finally turned to ash,

A week after I gave birth via C-section, Mark Whitman invited his friends over to celebrate the birth of our son. The crowd was boisterous—more than a dozen people. Not one of them bothered to remove their dirty shoes. The wooden floor was soon covered in muddy footprints. Mark came into the room and, without a hint of concern, ordered me out of bed. "Everyone's waiting outside. Don't just hide here and rest—you're embarrassing me in front of our guests." I had no choice but to push through the pain, forcing my body to prepare a huge meal for the large crowd, all on my own. When I carried the final bowl of steaming soup to the table, Lily Hoyte—whether intentionally or not—jabbed her hand against the wound on my abdomen. My hand trembled from the sudden pain, and the bowl slipped slightly, spilling the hot soup onto Lily's shoes. Mark's face darkened instantly. "What the heck did you do, Cammy? Lily rushed here right after her plane landed from overseas to see our son, and this is how you treat her?" The crowd quickly chimed in. "Come on, Cammy, no need to be so petty." "Mark and Lily grew up together. If there was really something between them, do you think you'd even be here now?" "Do you even know how much those shoes cost? They're limited edition—easily over ten thousand dollars. And you just ruined them." Lily stood up awkwardly, her eyes misting with tears. "If Cammy doesn't like me," she said softly, "then I'll leave. I don't want to be a bother." But Mark grabbed her hand in an exaggerated display of protection, his voice harsh as he turned to me. "Wipe Lily's shoes clean. Right now." His partiality for Lily made something sharp twist in my chest. My lips quivered as I fought back tears. "The wound on my stomach hasn't healed yet. I can't bend over." At that, his expression grew colder. "Don't use childbirth as an excuse. If you can't bend over, then kneel and wipe them. And if you won't, get out of my house!"

"Alam mo ikaw ha, masyado kang pala-desisyon. Buhay ko ito kaya huwag kang makialam lalo pa at wala naman ako’ng naging say sa love life mo,” naiinis na pahayag ko kay Franco. Naiinis kasi ito nang malaman na gusto ko ng magkaanak. Lagpas na ako sa kalendaryo at sa takot ko na mapag-iwanan ay ito ang naisip ko na solusyon. Wala sa vocabulary ko ang pag-aasawa dahil na rin sa naging karanasan ng nanay ko at sa nakikita ko sa paligid ko kaya nawalan na ako ng interes lalo na sa mga lalaki. Maraming nanliligaw subalit lahat sa akin ay red flags. Dagdagan pa nitong kaibigan ko na walang inaayawan basta naka-palda sa paningin nito lahat ay maganda. Mabait naman ito, matalino, responsable, masipag at madiskarte subalit sadyang palikero. “Ako ha, concern lang ako sa iyo. Huwag sanang masamain. Mamaya sa kagustuhan mo ay mapahamak ka pa.” Patuloy na litanya ni Franco sa akin. “Kaya nga bago pa mangyari iyon ay uunahan ko na. Hindi ako mai-inlove, hindi ako magiging martir at lalong hindi ko hahayaan na masaktan lang ako ng kagaya mo. Kaya nga anak lang ang gusto ko at iyon na ang pupuno sa pangarap ko. Hindi ako mag-aasawa at sakit lang iyan sa ulo,” masungit na sagot ko. “Ganun ba? Bakit ka pa maghahanap sa malayo at hindi mo kilala kung mayroon naman sa harapan mo? Ako na lang kaya, ano? Makakasiguro ka pa na galing sa magandang lahi at pamilya ang magiging anak mo,” tugon ni Franco. Napamaang ako sa naging sagot n’ya. Pwede kaya o baka magiging mitsa lang ito ng bagong kalbaryo sa buhay namin? Mas makapagpapatibay o makakasira kaya ito sa aming pagkakaibigan? Subalit hindi ko maiwasan kiligin at makadama ng challenge na baka ako lang pala ang makapagpapatino kay Franco.