Kintsugi

Chapter 3

Her eyes narrowed as a fierce determination ignited within her. She gazed at the bedside table, her hand sliding across the surface until it reached the water jug. With a swift motion, she knocked it over, shattering it into shards.

She picked up a fragment, her eyes burning with intensity as she stared at the jagged edge.

As the sun rose, the maid pushed open the creaky door, a faint scent of blood wafted out, mingling with the stale air. She stepped inside, her eyes scanning the room with a sense of routine, but her gaze soon froze on the bed. A chill ran down her spine as she took in the sight before her. The lady lay motionless, her body pale against the crimson-stained sheets. The maid's heart raced as she approached the bed, her mind struggling to comprehend the scene.

Sweat trickled down the maid's forehead, her hands trembling as she reached out to touch the lady's hand. It was cold to the touch, and the maid's breath caught in her throat. She stumbled backward, her eyes fixed on the lady's face, which seemed to wear a serene expression, a stark contrast to the chaos that surrounded her.

The maid's shrieks echoed through the hallway, summoning the butler to the room. She arrived with a sense of urgency, her face set in a stern expression, but even she couldn't prepare herself for the sight that greeted her. The bed, once a sanctuary, was now a scene of unspeakable tragedy.

As the butler approached the bed, his eyes widened in horror, his face draining of color. He felt as though he had been punched in the gut, his breath knocked out of him. He stumbled forward, his hands reaching out to touch the lady's hand. The hand was to cold to think she was alive.

"Inform the Lord" the butler said.

The butler's urgent request sent a ripple of tension through the household, and the maid's knock on the lord's door seemed to reverberate with an ominous tone. The lord's gruff response, "Who is it?" was met with the maid's trembling voice, "I have to inform you about something urgent, my lord."

As the maid entered the room, her fear was palpable, and the lord's abrupt awakening seemed to darken the atmosphere further. "Lord, the...the Lady is no more," she stammered, her words hanging in the air like a challenge.

The lord's reaction was immediate and intense. He sat up with a jolt, his eyes blazing with anger, and his voice thundered, "What? Who are you talking about?" The maid's response, "Lady Daisy," seemed to fuel his rage, and his clenched jaw and fists conveyed a sense of impotent fury.

As he punched the pillow, his roar of "Out!" sent the maid scurrying from the room, her departure a testament to the lord's unbridled wrath.

"I had plans for her...plans to make her suffer...to make her pay!" His voice rose to a shout, "But now she's gone! Gone!"

The somber silence that followed the lord's outburst was a stark contrast to the earlier chaos. The household seemed to hold its breath as the news of the lady's passing spread. Whispers of condolence and hushed tones of disappointment filled the air, accompanied by downcast eyes and bowed heads.

In a distant land, a silent burial took place under the cover of darkness. The lady was laid to rest alongside her stillborn child, their graves a secret to all but a select few. The family's shame and disgrace were buried alongside them, hidden from the world but never forgotten.

The family graveyard, once a symbol of legacy and heritage, was denied to the lady and her child. The family's pride and honor had been tarnished by her actions, and the child's weakness was seen as a reflection of her failure. In death, as in life, they were ostracized and forgotten, their memory reduced to a mere whisper in the winds of time.

A small, delicate daisy flower bloomed at the grave of Lady Daisy, its white petals and yellow center a stark contrast to the darkness of the earth. It was as if the flower had burst forth from the soil, symbolizing Lady Daisy's freedom and her free soul finally at peace. The daisy seemed to dance in the gentle breeze, its petals swaying with a joyous abandon, as if celebrating the release from the shackles of suffering.

Nearby, a small Shasta daisy grew, its slender stem curling itself around the larger daisy, as if embracing it. The gentle, innocent flower seemed to represent the pure and blameless child, who had perhaps finally found union with his mother in the afterworld. The Shasta daisy's delicate petals seemed to whisper a soft lullaby, a soothing serenade to the mother and child, now reunited in eternal slumber.

The sun cast its warm rays upon the tranquil graveyard, illuminating the weathered tombstones and vibrant flowers that adorned them. Amidst the serene atmosphere, a figure emerged, his footsteps quiet on the winding path.

As he approached a particular grave, his pace slowed, and his gaze fell upon the tombstone bearing the name "Lady Daisy". A soft sigh escaped his lips, and he knelt before the grave, his fingers tracing the intricate carvings on the stone.

With reverence, he placed a bouquet of purple hyacinths upon the grave, their delicate petals swaying in the breeze. He caressed the tombstone lovingly, his touch conveying a sense of deep affection and longing.

His presence was one of quiet contemplation, as if he sought solace in the stillness of the graveyard.

After a few moments, he rose to his feet, his gaze lingering on the grave. With a gentle nod, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the distance, leaving behind the purple hyacinths to grace Lady Daisy's final resting place.

To be continued