Moroi

Chapter one

"You shouldn't be here, young master Kota"

Kota stopped in his tracks, the sound of the maid's voice catching him off guard. The melody of the piano continued to play, its mournful notes echoing through the room, and in contrast, the sharp tone of the maid's voice seemed harsh.

"Why can't I see mama?"

Kota asked, his voice small and filled with childish innocence; but the maid pursed her lips and shook her head firmly, stepping closer with her stern expression.

"Your father has instructed that you are not to disturb her while she's resting."

Why was he not allowed to see his mother?

Why was his father preventing him from seeing his own mother?

Why did his mother need rest?

Why couldn't he be with her?

"But I want to see mama,"

Kota looked up at the maid, his eyes pleading as his lower lip trembling slightly.

"What is going on here?"

"Young master Kota was merely curious to madam's play, sir," The maid quickly bow her head slightly in respect once she heard Izana's voice. "He was just trying to see her. I caught him in time and explained to him the situation."

"I see," Izana said, his voice low and icy.

"You did well to stop him from disturbing my wife, but you should have been more vigilant in keeping him away from this side of the mansion in the first place."

The maid nodded in agreement, her eyes lowered slightly in shame. "Yes, sir. I apologize for my lapse in judgment. It won't happen again."

"It better not," Izana replied sternly, then with a deep scowl on his face, he stepped forward Infront of the door, but shoot his son one glance while his brows narrow.

"You may leave."

The maid bow her head and quickly excused herself, disappearing down the hallway taking Kota with her.

Izana pushed open the door and stepped into the room where his wife, her fingers still skillfully playing the melancholic melody unaware of his entrance and continued to play.

Even in her weakened state, she remained breathtaking. Her stoic expression failed to reveal any signs of exertion, but he could see the sweat beading on her forehead. He quietly walked up behind her, his footsteps silent on the carpeted floor.

"You should in bed,"

The sound of his voice caused her to falter, her fingers slipped on the keys, producing a discordant, jarring note that broke the flow of the melody.

"Izana," she said, her voice soft, "I didn't feel you come in."

Izana approached closer, standing by her side. He looked down at her, his eyes tracing the delicate features of her face.

"You were too absorbed in your playing to notice," he responded, his tone a little firmer. "You're exerting yourself, how do you even got out of the bed?"

The last notes of the melody soon faded away and she raised her chin to meet his intense gaze, and without a word, Izana took out a handkerchief from his pocket and gently dabbed at the beads of sweat on her forehead.

"I'm fine,"

He rolled his eyes as she smiled at him, and Izana gently lifted her in his arms, her body small and fragile against his broad chest. He carried her with care, as if she were made of glass.

"You say you’re fine, but there's sweat on your forehead."

He steps into their bedroom carrying her in his arms to the room that is lavishly decorated, with expensive furniture and a king-sized bed in the center. He gently placed her down on the bed, the silk bedding cool against her skin. He then sat down beside her, his hand reaching out to brush a loose strand of hair away from her face.

"How's my piece?"

"It was beautiful, as always."