I hear him take a deep breath before leaving.
Relief and pain merge into a tsunami-like wave that crashes over my head, and a sob escapes me. Tears flow down my cheeks as I sink onto the bathroom floor and cry. Cry for my brother, for who he once was, for myself, for what’s coming, and for Phil, who deserved to be happy. I give myself these minutes to let go. And when there are no more tears left, when my emotions retreat into a fog of indifference, I stand up and transform myself from the woman I am, into the woman I must be.
Finally dressed and made up, I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I see the mask I’ve put on, the dutiful and obedientAmelia who wants to do everything perfectly and would never, ever break free. A cage I’ve let myself be locked into.
With squared shoulders and raised chin, I walk through Perlington Hall, past my brother, who watches me with an unreadable expression, straight to the limousine, where Winston is waiting and looking at me with sad eyes.
“My lady.” He bows slightly, holding the door open for me, and I give him a small smile. Winston is the grandfather I never had, and he likely already knows what I’m feeling deep down. He has often been the one to comfort me or witness me crying, fragile and broken.
He gives a small smile, and as I climb in, he closes the door and drives me to the castle without saying another word. My stomach tightens further and sinks, possibly because I haven’t had breakfast yet. But once again, I force myself to push through and ignore the discomfort.
With each step into the castle, with each memory that surfaces in my mind, it becomes harder to keep going. My throat feels tight, and I can barely breathe. Everything reminds me of Philipp. Everything.
“Amelia. Darling…” The voice of Phil’s mother Mary pulls me out of my dark spiral. But when I look up and see her standing there in jeans and a shirt in the middle of the hall, fragile and full of sorrow, yet so strong and unwavering, all the walls break down.
She looks at me lovingly and opens her arms, pulling me into a tight embrace a second later. And again, I let go. I thought I had no more tears left after earlier, but apparently, that was a mistake.
“Oh, darling, I know. I know…” Mary soothingly strokes my back, her body trembling, and I know she is trying with all her might not to cry as well.
I love Mary. She is a wonderful queen, but an even more wonderful mother. She is everything I have always missed from my own mother. Loving, kind, warm-hearted, cheerful, and open.
“It… it breaks my heart. I… I didn’t want to cry,” I sniffle and gently pull away from her arms to look at her. Her eyes gaze at me so warmly that I almost want to start crying again, but I push the tears back with all my might.
“Darling, it’s perfectly fine that you’re crying after everything you’ve been through. Never be ashamed of your feelings in my presence, Amelia. I may be a queen, and yes, officially this country is still in the Middle Ages. But not behind these palace walls. Here you can always be who you really are. Never forget that.” Mary’s words cut deep into my heart, burrowing under my skin.
Who am I? Who am I?
I don't know anymore, not after all these years of self-denial. My parents and my brother made sure of that. And yet, it strikes me like a punch to the gut to hear the very words I’ve needed for years, now coming from the queen.
“It’s not that easy. I don’t know who I really am anymore,” I murmur, embarrassed, but of course, Mary hears it.
“Darling, you too will find your way. I’m sure you’ll soon figure out who you are and what you want. And then, little Amelia, the world will kneel before you. It will lie at your feet.” She says it with conviction and gently brushes a stray lock of hair from my face. I look at her, shaken. I look at my old and new future mother-in-law and wonder how she can believe such a thing. How she can be so certain. About me. Because I’m not.
I look at her with wide eyes, and she smiles as her eyes glisten with tears.
“Trust me, darling, I can feel it. And now I need you for the hardest task I’ve ever had.” She swallows hard, and suddenlyI know why she called me. And the deep wound inside me is ripped open even further.
“You… you want to sort out his things… don’t you?” I can barely get the words out, and her gaze loses its warmth and shine. Instead, grief and pain take their place.
“Yes. I have to do it. At least for Nic. He wouldn’t bear being constantly reminded of Philipp.” My hands automatically ball into fists, and my expression hardens. Unyielding, as dark anger bubbles up in my blood at the mention of my future.
“Ha. Don’t make me laugh. Nic has no right to that. He has no right to mourn or not be able to bear it. He didn’t give a damn about Phil,” I burst out uncontrollably and angrily. He, who was never there, who is never there. Who never cared about anything or anyone but himself. How many times did Phil need him? How often did he not show up, leaving Phil disappointed and alone? Just the thought sends anger coursing through my veins like poison, demanding retribution.
He has no right to not bear it.
Mary’s gaze grows colder with my words, and only then do I realize to whom I’ve just spoken. A wave of intense shame and regret washes over me, and I press my hand to my mouth, horrified by my own actions.
“It… Oh God… I’m sorry. I… I didn’t mean to…” I try to apologize, but the queen simply shakes her head, a sad and distant look in her eyes.
My stomach tightens even further.
“Don’t apologize for words you truly meant, Amelia. Because you did, and I understand. My son is… difficult. Special. And he has given you every reason to think that way about him. But not everything is as it seems at first glance.” She stares at me intensely, and I have to swallow hard, feeling as though she can peer into the very depths of my soul.
“Listen to your heart. But most importantly, give Nicolas a chance.” She smiles sadly and gestures for me to go ahead. The topic is clearly closed.
With a lump in my throat, I walk ahead, my thoughts a jumbled mess, and it doesn’t get any better. The next few hours, I drown in bittersweet and sorrowful memories as I join the queen in sorting out Phil’s personal belongings.
Metal grinds and the smell of gasoline fills my nose. My body is pressed into the seat, and a sharp jolt goes through me. My head slams into something hard, and a sharp pain shoots through my skull before everything goes dark.
