I hesitated. Should I step back and look away, or not?
‘Paula, please cheer me on.’
Her words echoed in my mind. I took a breath and gathered my courage.
“Lady Violet said she understands.”
“Understand? Understand what? Is she trying to pity a blind fiancé?”
“Why do you say it like that?”
“Because that’s what it is.”
The thorns he projected grew sharper, his heart as tightly sealed as his bedroom door. I licked my dry lips and stammered, “Master, you know better than anyone that Lady Violet isn’t that kind of person.”
“I’ve learned one thing in life—want to know what it is? People I thought I knew well always turn out to be the opposite.”
“…….”
“Even if they pretend to care, the moment I show a weakness, they calculate how to seize it and shake me. Everyone does. They come to visit, checking on my condition first. Even when my parents died, they started counting how to use this young successor.”
In his bitter smile, I saw the depth of his exhaustion.
“Like you said, maybe Violet wouldn’t do that. But those around her? Likely not. Her family won’t be able to accept a blind fiancé.”
“……Then are you going to keep living like this?”
“I can’t do that forever.”
“…….”
Watching him shake his head, the truth dawned on me. He wasn’t afraid of breaking the engagement; he was afraid of her. He was terrified of facing her while he couldn’t see.
He needed courage. The courage to accept his shadow and move forward.
I gently let go of his hand. He released mine just as easily. Leaving behind a man who looked hollowed out by his own skepticism, I hurried to my room. I gathered every letter I had tucked away in my drawer and returned.
Perhaps sensing my presence, he turned as he moved to lie down.
“Why did you come back?”
“Master.”
I poured the contents of my arms onto him. A cascade of white envelopes fluttered across the bed—all the letters from Violet I had been collecting under Lady Isabella’s orders.
“…….”
He reached out, his fingers tracing the paper scattered around him. There were enough to bury him. She had sent them tirelessly, day after day, never once receiving a reply.
“Lady Violet sent a letter every two days. She was faithful, even knowing there would be no response. Master, I’m not good with words. I can’t offer you great advice, but I believe in her sincerity.”
I had been amazed by her devotion. Curious about the thickness of the bundles, I had once or twice peeked at the contents.
[I went for a stroll in the garden today. The flowers are so beautiful. I want to show them to you.]
[I bought a pretty dress today. I want to wear this and meet you.]
[I miss you, Vincent.]
The paper was filled with her small, dense script. The content was simple—daily routines ending always with a note of longing. Seeing the ink smudged at the edges, I could feel the weight of her heart.
“As you said, not everything will go smoothly, but you still have to face her. Please, gather your courage. Now is the time.”
I didn’t want the person knocking at your door to grow weary and turn away. Even if time eventually drives her to leave, I wanted you to trust her for now. I didn’t want you to lose everyone to the suspicion that ‘maybe she is like the others.’
“If you wish, I can read the letters for you.”
“……Forget it.”
He picked up a single letter.
“I know what’s written in them. Regards, worry, longing. She’s sent them like that every time. After I ordered that I wouldn’t read the mail, I thought she had stopped. It seems she never did.”
“Yes. They’ve piled up this high. It isn’t polite to keep ignoring someone who cares so much!”
Thinking I had hit a nerve, I spoke with conviction, but he remained sullen. His next words left me breathless.
“You’re doing this because of your own mistake, aren’t you? Violet said she’d stay after hearing what you had to say, and now you’re watching to see how I react.”
“…….”
He was terrifyingly perceptive.
Ever since that incident, I had been trying to ignore the prickling in my chest, shielding myself with defensive arguments. I asked if he didn’t know how much she cared, but he wouldn’t listen. Instead, he felt the letters scattered across the bed. In his cautious touch, I felt his defenses waver. My words were reaching him.
“Are you finding your courage?”
“A little?”
His tone remained stoic.
“You always have nothing but nagging for me.”
“If you don’t want to hear it, then do better.”
“How brazen of you.”
“That’s how I serve my Master.”
He chuckled softly.
“Thank you.”
Just now… what did he say?
I blinked, wondering if I had misheard, when he gripped my hand. It wasn’t the iron-like tension from earlier, but a cautious, tentative touch. His fingers intertwined with mine.
“The time you thanked me for during our conversation practice? That was for you. And it was funny, thinking about how difficult it is to say ‘I miss you’.”
He laughed briefly, a sound both unfamiliar and hauntingly reminiscent of the man I used to know. A gentle face, considering the person in front of him. That face was turned toward me.
“Thank you. I mean it.”
“I didn’t intend to ignore Violet forever. But I lacked the courage. Thanks to you, I’ve regained some strength.”
He lifted his head. His dull emerald eyes were fixed on me. With practice, he had learned to follow the sound of my voice. Faced with that gaze, I parted my lips, but no words came out.
The skin where our hands met felt feverishly hot, his tender voice rattling my composure. A warning bell rang in my head—thump, thump.
* * *
The door that had been firmly shut opened the next day. Vincent met Violet. As soon as she saw him, she burst into tears. She had much to say, but she settled for pounding his chest in a rhythm of grief. Vincent held her, patting her back as she spilled all the bitterness she had harbored in his arms. Ethan watched, his hand resting on the back of each.
“I will never break off the engagement. And I won’t tell anyone about your condition, either. I promise.”
“Thank you.”
Keeping silent wouldn’t hide his condition forever, but she would try. Vincent smiled at her.
The three of them talked all day. For the first time in an age, joyful laughter echoed through the mansion. Watching the couple, who were stunning just to behold, I rubbed my chest, feeling a strange ache.
The next day, we had tea.
The attendees were Vincent, Violet, Ethan, and me. I felt like an intruder, but Violet insisted. She had even obtained permission from Isabella. In the end, a mere maid, I had the honor of sitting with the nobles.
We sat in the garden behind the annex. The conversation was ordinary, unremarkable—the sound of words flowing back and forth was enough to warm the air.
Then, the topic of Violet’s letters surfaced.
“Maid, weren’t some of the letters wrinkled?”
“Pardon? Oh, now that you mention it…”
“Violet has a bit of a temper. Those must be the marks from when she got angry at not receiving a reply, crinkled the paper, and smoothed it back out. I can just picture it.”
Ethan chuckled. Violet hit his side, embarrassed. Ethan groaned, and Vincent Bellunita sipped his tea with an elegant, faint smile. I shifted in my seat, feeling the itch of being an outsider. I had no memories to share, no place in their shared history. Gauging the mood, I picked up the empty teapot and stood. I tried to excuse myself to fetch more, but Vincent Bellunita caught my wrist.
“Where are you going?”
“Ah, the tea is empty. I’m going to refill it.”
“You don’t have to drink it. Stay here.”
“Pardon? Oh, but still….”
The conversation ground to a halt. Violet’s and Ethan Christopher’s gazes snapped to me. Flustered, I felt like I had disrupted the harmony, but Ethan Christopher interjected.
“Wow, Vincent Bellunita. Anyone would think the maid is leaving you forever. How sentimental. Let her go get the tea so she can have a moment to herself. Can’t you tell how uncomfortable she is?”
“Oh my. Was I?”
Violet asked, and Vincent waited for my answer. Caught off guard, I couldn’t respond. Vincent finally let go of the hem of my dress. Not knowing whether to thank him, I offered a polite nod and hurried away.
Once I had put some distance between us, I could finally breathe. I scratched my head and went to the kitchen. After asking the cook for fresh tea and sweet cookies, I intentionally took the long way back. I hadn’t had a moment to myself in weeks; this short interval felt as sweet as honey.
When I returned to the garden, a new attendee had joined them.