MAYA, my love.

CHAPTER 45

Mey stood outside the gates. The air was thick with dust and midday heat, the world beyond the castle walls feeling distant and foreign. John had just gone back inside to finish the remaining work. He had pushed for the stand, so she would be allowed to venture to Sereath and start the project there in her presence. He told her to get some rest before he left.

She had nodded, grateful for his words, but now that the moment was finally here, Mey found herself questioning her feelings. The excitement she had imagined for this moment—the triumph of success—was more muted than expected. There was no loud burst of joy. It felt more bittersweet.

She turned away from the gates and made her way toward the lab. Ein and the other junior researchers were waiting eagerly for her arrival. They braced themselves as she walked in and asked them to quiet down for the announcement.

"It's official," Mey said, her voice steady but carrying a quiet undertone of exhaustion. "His Majesty has approved the project."

The response was immediate—a burst of cheers, clapping, and exuberant congratulations. The lab had been the place these people had slept and woken up in for the last few days. Now that it was over, they were bursting with joy.

"Take the week off," she said, her voice stronger now. "You've all worked hard, so you've earned it. Go rest your minds."

The researchers were thrilled by her command, practically rushing out the door to enjoy the rare time off. As they filed out, Ein lingered, his expression softening as he approached her.

"Dr. Mey," he said, his tone knowing. "Join us. It's a good day. Let's celebrate together."

She shook her head. "I can't. I've got to go somewhere first. But thank you."

Ein studied her for a moment before nodding, not pushing further. "Okay."

Mey left the palace walls and slowly made her way to Arthur's house. Every step felt heavy. She didn't want to go there when no one was waiting for her now. The place that had once been full of life, laughter, and the smell of fresh coffee brewing in the mornings now stood abandoned. Weeds grew in the garden, and the house looked dark and empty, as though time had stopped the moment Arthur had passed. Mey felt a heavy weight in her chest as she approached the door, unsure whether to enter or just return. She gathered her courage and stepped inside. She had to clean out and clear everything. She also wanted to take some of Arthur's beloved things with her to keep forever.

She stepped inside, the familiar scent of coffee beans still lingering in the air, even though the house had been empty for months. She walked slowly through the rooms, touching things as if to reassure herself that they hadn't changed. The furniture was where it always had been. The walls, once filled with notes and scribbled thoughts, were now bare.

She wandered into the bedroom, and that's when she saw it—a small, delicate book lying open on the bedside table. It wasn't one she recognized. But what caught her attention was the note resting on top of it, scrawled in the familiar, neat handwriting she had known for so many years.

"Happy birthday, my dear Mey."

Her breath caught in her throat. She stared at the note, her hands trembling as she reached for it. She had completely forgotten about her birthday—the day had passed somewhere around Arthur's passing. But he hadn't forgotten. He had remembered. Even in his final days, even as he had been fighting his own battles, he had remembered her.

And in that moment, everything inside her broke. She sank to the floor, clutching the tiny book to her chest, her body wracked with sobs. She cried loudly. She cried for the man who had been like a father to her. She cried for the life now gone forever. Arthur had gone from a real person to a memory. Everything about his presence started to fade from the real world.

Hours passed, but she didn't move. She stayed on the floor of the bedroom, the book pressed to her heart, weeping for everything she had lost. For the mentor, the friend, the father. The ache of missing him would never fade—like everyone else who has lost someone, she felt the pain too. She understood the depth of misery and vowed to do her best so no one she knew would lose someone like she had. She would try her best to end that wretched epidemic.