Previous to Ever After

Fifteen

Lightning cracked, illuminating my father in his bed. He had gotten worse since I left. His eyelids have faded to a dark purple, and his lips were now blue, despite his sweating forehead, evidence of his continuously rising fever. He was so thin, I could see every outline of bone under his skin.

Captain Luxford and Gretchen were standing next to the bed, their hands folded politely in front to them, tears pooling in their eyes.

Mother didn't look any better than father did. She was hunched over, staring at him with dead eyes. She was thin as well, looking like she hadn't eaten since I left. Her cheeks were sunken and her lips were peeling. Her hair was a mess, knotted and bunched in odd places. She looked up at me as tears flowed down her cheeks. It didn't matter if we still had the potion or not.

We we're too late.

I swallowed, my throat dry, as I started to walk towards my father's bed on the opposite side of mother. She looked up at me and smiled sadly.

"He went quietly," she whispered, her voice a shaken mess. "A few seconds before you came."

I bit my lips together as the tears started. I kept my eyes on my father's body.

"He fought so strongly," she continued softly. Then suddenly, a loud sob escaped her lips and she dropped her head to my father's bed. I jumped at her sudden outburst and dug my fingernails into my palms.

When she was done crying, she looked up and placed her hand on my father's.

"It was my fault," she whispered, emotion filling her voice. She shrugged, smiling sadly. "I didn't know what I had until it was gone."

I stared at her as she stared at my father. A bump formed in my throat, making it hard for me to breathe. Mother had so much pain trapped in her eyes. Pain that was caused by lost love.

My mother never looked at my father like that when he was alive. They never hugged or embraced each other, never danced unless they were asked to. I've never even seen them kiss. I was their only daughter, and I've never seen them kiss. But that didn't mean they never loved each other. There were hints of it. Small hints, which you would never notice if you weren't paying attention.

Love was there, in the way my father used to always brew my mother's favorite white tea in the morning, even when she said she didn't want it. In the way my mother used to paint my father's favorite scene, the stables, even though she never liked painting structures. It showed in the little things, that they loved each other more than anything.

But my parents didn't just love each other. I saw that now, as I looked at the way my mother looked at my father's face. She was in love with him. And, she was still in love with him. It was plastered in her eyes, written in the tears that fell down her cheeks. It was as plain as the lighting and thunder crackling outside the windows.

My mother had known exactly what she had. She just never thought she'd lose him.

That's what being in love meant. It meant never, ever wanting to lose that one person. It meant not having to show affection all the time, because you knew that you loved each other, just the same. It meant feeling like you could do anything when you were with them. Maybe even conquer death, itself.

I felt my heartbeat start to speed up. That's when I realized that my heartbeat was going a mile an hour since we arrived at my castle. I hadn't hyperventilated. This was the first time in my entire life where I was nervous beyond reason and didn't hyperventilate. When was the last time I had a panic attack? In the inn, with William, last night. What had happened that caused me to stop? What was different?