Daylight

26 | Dark Red

The night for the ball had come, their house was filled with light and laughter, sounds that were music to her ears. Especially from a woman.

Madonna stared at herself in the mirror, watching how her golden jewelries glowed under the dim light, how her emeralds sparkled against her skin, and how her red hair fell perfectly into place. With a delicate hand, she reached for her lipstick then leaned towards the newly replaced mirror, close to her reflection, applying the lipstick on her lips.

In a matter of seconds, her lips turned from pink to a shade of matte red, matching her hair. Her blue eyes fell onto the emerald that sat nicely on her chest, right above her cleavage, eyes tracing the thick golden chain attached to it that was around her neck. With a hum, she removed the small red smudges around her lips, making sure she looked perfect before putting the lipstick away, back to its place by the mirror.

She reached for the small drawer attached to the vanity, staring at the emerald rings that sat inside the empty safe. For a moment, she hesitated to take the rings and slide them to her fingers. It felt wrong. No, it didn't feel wrong but it truly did make her feel something. Those rings were a symbol of her past, of what she has suffered, and of what she has done in her life. They were both from her past husbands, both that met a tragic end to their innocent lives.

The gold was starting to tarnish from her first ring, the one from Francis. How many years has it been? They married quite young and he was taken away from her after those years, after the girls had grown into little girls. The silver from her second one was good as new but the emerald looked dull.

With a sigh, she closed the drawer, refusing to wear any of the rings. There was no point in dwelling in the past anymore, not when they are about to start a new life, not when she is so close to finally marrying one of her daughters off to a noble man and live a new life.

She swallowed the thoughts that tried to spiral out of her head, swallowing them into the deepest depths of her stomach. A lot has changed, she has changed, her daughters have changed, their lives had changed but her goal didn't. It never did. This has always been her goal, to marry off one of her daughters or if she was lucky, the both of them to noble gentlemen and crawl out of this burden she carried everywhere she went.

With a deep sigh, Madonna swiftly grabbed her black gloves, wearing them as she made her way out of the bedroom. As soon as she stepped out, the beautiful sound of laughter echoed in the room across hers. There was a bright light coming from under her girls' bedroom door, meaning they were still getting ready.

She didn't feel the need to ruin their day and gush on about being late since her girls were punctual, just like their mother, although they were very lazy at most times and moved very slowly, they were never late to anything. The only thing they were somehow always late to was their french lessons with Caroline... in their own home. The first time it happened, Madonna had told them to never do it again and that they should respect time. But somehow, it always happened anyway.

Caroline insisted she didn't mind since the girls felt so comfortable to be around her, like cats and that she understood that it can be exhausting having to go to town every day for their school lessons.

Madonna sighed, drawn towards the musical sound. She walked towards the door, resting a black gloved hand on the brown knob, briefly knocking before turning it, pushing the door open. The laughter was immediately replaced by high-pitched giggles and squeals, before Madonna could push the door further open and see what was going on, Drizella had almost slammed her entire body against the wall, right between the space from the door to the frame, covering the sight inside with a sleazy grin.

Madonna arched a perfect eyebrow "What... what are you doing?" she asked, stepping forward to see what was happening inside but Drizella inched the door close "Drizella!" her mother glared at the attempt of closing the door on her face.