𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 | 𝐔.

𝐕|𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄

"I will never sing again."

________________

What is that term for the immense pain you feel in your heart? That specific feeling of losing once, then losing again. Just... ten times worse.

Unhappiness? Misery. Dejection. Desolation. Or would the term regret fit the description?

Depression. Sort of. All [Name] could feel was an utterly painful loss. Maybe with a hint of the other feelings listed—no. She felt all those things at once.

It hurt her heart. Gruesomely. Breaking it in two— hundreds of pieces. She regretted letting herself get attached to the family of four. Especially with the added fact of her daughter's untimely death. But who could blame her? With the birth of the twins, she found solace. She found light. Warmth.

They were the song to her heart. Their giggles were her air, their smiles were her sunlight, their hugs were her cure to her broken heart. And yet, the candle-fire that they were that she loved oh so dearly, that she had tried to protect from the harsh world, was snuffed out by a sharp huff of breath.

Oh. And how she loathed that fact.

She lied in bed, her face pale and her eyes dark. Lack of warmth would fit it. She was thin, malnourished, and her room in absolute shambles. Her hand was clutched into a weak fist, her puffy red-rimmed eyes staring into the skin on her hand.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"[Nickname]. Can I come in?" A muffled voice sounded through the other side of the door, yet she never budged. She wished she could sit up, to speak, to tell the voice how badly she needed comfort.

But she didn't have the energy for that. The door creaked open after a long moment of silence, muffled light steps sounding in her dark room and a click sounding—the door closed.

She was hidden under her covers, so she couldn't exactly see who it was, but the voice was that of her darling friend.

"Starlight." Undertaker mellowly called out, his melancholic smile plastered on his lips, placing his hand on the round bump of blankets.

"You've been here for a week. You eat little to nothing. Please, Starlight. Get up." He beckoned gently, his other hand grabbing on the blanket and gently sliding it off her face. He stared at her face, decorated with dark eye bags, red-rimmed puffy eyelids, tear-stained cheeks, along with old, deep scratches along her hairline, her eyes slowly blinking.

If this was another person, Undertaker would describe them as.. well. Pitiful. But this was [Name] he was looking at. All he could feel was sorrow.

He sighed through his nose, slowly raising [Name]'s body from the sunken mattress, bringing her into his arms. "Come on, love. Get up for me. I ordered a maid to prepare your bath. 'Tis the funeral today." He whispered, holding his melancholic smile, gently helping her get up.

He wrapped an arm around her waist, taking a hand in his and guiding her slowly out of the room.

Getting a response from her was unlikely, yet he felt her hand weakly clench around his.

"Okay.." [Name] meekly said, her voice awfully hoarse from all the crying and light dehydration, as Undertaker ensured she drank water every time after she'd cried her heart out. Her head weakly leaned onto his shoulder, stepping inside her bathing chambers.

Her maids worked quietly, one checking the temperature of the water, one walking in and out with towels and soap, and another waiting for her arrival.

He handed her to the maid, pressing his lips in a tight smile. "I'll be waiting in the drawing room." He told [Name] and the maid who took the woman. The maid nodded, gently guiding [Name] to the tub.