TWO ALONG THEIR WAY ┃a. bridgerton

7: until death itself comes

Some seven years ago...

Being at the prime age of nine and ten years - almost twenty now - Inanna Sharma should've been well on her way towards marriage, even starting a family of her own. But she'd had two families in her lifetime, first the Buckthoughts and then the Sharmas, and she still had a family to take care of now.

For this, she was somewhat glad, because the idea of trying to find a match when she could barely stand to hold a conversation with a man without internally listing all the ways he was wrong and all the ways she was wrong too. If she could not stomach the idea of being in a marriage like her mother's first, there was no point thinking about it at all. She did not have the time to waste in finding a love match. That was something to worry about when their family had a little more security and by then, she was sure, it would probably be Edwina's turn to be looking for such a thing.

The Sharma House was small but comfortable. The girls each had their own rooms, and they had staff to aid them, though Anna had been forced to dismiss some of them in the last year to cut costs where they were simply living off the money their father had saved. She was trying to come up with a good way to raise more funds, but nothing had been fruitful thus far.

As we walked through the halls of the house to ensure her family were well this evening, she could hear the quiet sounds of fire from both Edwina and Kate's fireplaces, providing warmth from the cool air outside. But her mother's room was silent, not an uncommon thing nowadays. She steeled herself and opened the door.

"Mama?" she called out into the darkness. Her mother sat on the floor at the end of the bed, and only a single candle was lit in front of her crossed legs. She did not respond to her daughter's voice, so Anna stepped inside and kneeled in front of her, placing two fingers to her chin. "Mama, you are going to catch a chill like this. Why is your fire not lit?"

"I..." Mary spoke, and it was more progress than was made most nights. That was a good sign, though Anna was not hopeful she would get much more than it. She sighed and reached for the closest blanket on the bed, wrapping it around her shoulders.

"Let's get you warm," she said. She moved to the fireplace, threw on some coal and logs, then used one of the smallest pieces of kindling to catch fire from the candle. She placed it at the base of the pile and waited for it to properly catch. "Are you hungry, mother?"

"I am aching," Mary replied. Anna's head whipped around, ready to react. She sat by her mother again and cupped her cheeks, trying to encourage eye contact, but her gaze remained downwards. "I needed the cold. To speak to him."

Anna sighed in defeat and closed her eyes to hide the glistening of tears from the woman before her. It was this again, always this, the desperate need to speak to ghosts that never spoke back, both her son and her second husband.

"Mama, I do not think Appa will come to you this night," she said gently, tightening the blanket around her. You found him in this life, and I know you will find him in the next. But he will not speak to you this way, not when you are making yourself suffer to do so."

Mary did not reply, but she heard her daughter's words. They did not do much to reassure her, but somewhere within her heart she knew that it was the truth. Still, she did not move and did not speak again. Anna placed a long kiss to her mother's forehead and retreated.

"Stay here and I will make you some tea," she said softly, though she knew her mother was not going anywhere.

Closing the door behind her, Anna was comforted by the sound of all three fires roaring, providing warmth for the three people in the world who mattered more than anything to her. They were safe and resting, and soon she would be too. She took a lamp and made her way down to the kitchen, and only then did she let herself breathe.