𝟏𝟗𝟒𝟔 ：𝑬𝒌 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒎 𝒌𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒂 ✓

𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘟𝘐𝘐. 𝘉𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘢𝘴𝘵

Edward's POV;

The time had come. I stood in front of the mirror, dressed in a perfectly tailored black tuxedo, adjusting the lapels as I took a deep, steadying breath. The weight of the small velvet box inside my suit pocket was a constant reminder of the gift I had carefully chosen earlier that day.

A glance at the clock-7:30.

Only ten minutes left.

With one final exhale, I stepped out of my room and into the grand hall, where the party was already in full swing. Chandeliers glowed with golden light, casting a warm hue over the elegantly dressed guests. The air was thick with laughter, clinking glasses, and the soft melody of a violin quartet playing in the background.

My eyes scanned the crowd, pausing as I spotted my father engaged in conversation with a guest. But it wasn't him who caught my attention.

Standing beside him, looking regal as ever, was my mother.

A rush of emotions surged through me-surprise, disbelief, and overwhelming joy. My breath hitched, and before I could stop myself, I called out, "Mother!"

I strode towards her, wrapping my arms around her in a tight embrace. The familiar scent of roses and vanilla enveloped me, and for the first time in a long while, I felt like a child again. She rested her head against my chest, her soft sniffles barely audible over the noise of the room.

'Claire Fletcher Thomas.'

She was the only one who had ever truly understood me, the only one who had shown me unconditional love. Unlike my father, whose heart was forged from steel, my mother was gentle, kind, and compassionate. She had raised me single-handedly, shielding me from the harshness of my father's rule when we lived in Britain.

Their marriage had never been one of love. It was an arrangement, a union dictated by status rather than emotion. My mother had never been fond of men who wielded power ruthlessly, yet fate had bound her to my father-a man who epitomized cold authority. She had entered the marriage unaware of the kind of life that awaited her.

When my father announced that we were moving to India, I had been thrilled at the prospect of adventure. But my mother had refused. She had no desire to witness the suffering inflicted upon the people under my father's rule. She couldn't bear to watch homes being snatched away, families torn apart.

Before I left, she had taken my hands in hers and made me swear one thing: to be different from my father, to be kind, to protect rather than oppress.

And I had tried. But it had cost me her presence.

Now, here she was.

She pulled away, her face streaked with tears. I wiped them away quickly and playfully nudged her chin upwards. "No more tears, Mother."

She chuckled, mirroring my gesture and wiping away the wetness on my cheeks. Pressing a tender kiss to my forehead, she whispered, "Eddie, I missed you so much, my son."

I held her hands tightly. "I missed you too, Mother. But how... why are you here?"

Before I could finish, she cut me off with a soft smile. "I simply couldn't stay away from my son any longer."

She leaned in, whispering mischievously, "And look at you, all grown up and so handsome! If only I had married someone like you instead of your father."

I widened my eyes in shock. "Mother!"

She smirked, mischief dancing in her gaze.

Well, two could play at that game.