chapter 4..pages that breathe

The tall door of the study clicked shut behind the Duke, his aura still lingering like smoke in the air — thick, cold, and unsettling.

Eira exhaled, slow and shaky.

Her bare feet padded softly against the marble as she hurried back to her chambers, the long velvet robe sweeping behind her. She flopped onto the bed, the room silent but her thoughts deafening.

She glanced at the small, weathered diary lying beside the pillow — Anastasia’s. The same one she’d barely scratched the surface of the night before.

Without a second's pause, she picked it up and flipped to the next page.

---

"5th Winter Month

Brother coughed again today. The physicians say it’s stress. That he must not be burdened. But how could they not see? He hides his pain behind a smile. I begged Father to stop pushing him... but all he said was, 'He is our legacy. He must learn.'

...They never listened. And now, the house is quiet. Too quiet.

They’ve turned to me. I see it in the way Mother watches me. The silence at dinner now weighs on me instead. They want me to become the next heir. I can’t breathe.

But I won’t let Alric’s death be for nothing. If they want steel, I’ll become it.

– A."

---

Eira blinked at the page, her throat tight.

“She didn’t even get to grieve...” she whispered.

Another page turned. Her fingers trembled.

---

"7th Summer Month

I signed my first estate papers today. They said I did well. I smiled. But I missed my garden tea.

No one looks into my eyes anymore. They look at numbers I draw, the profits I return, the properties I win.

I don’t know who I am when I’m alone. Only that I'm not her anymore. Not the girl who read books by the pond. She’s gone too.

– A."*

---

Eira's chest ached. She didn’t know why she was crying until she wiped her cheek.

This woman, this “villainess,” wasn’t evil.

She was... exhausted.

“I'll live this life... better. For her.” Eira whispered, hugging the diary close, “She didn’t get to breathe, but maybe I can.”

She didn’t remember falling asleep, not even when the candle burned low. The scent of wax lingered in her dreams.

---

Knock knock knock.

The door creaked open. A young maid peeked in nervously.

“L-Lady Anastasia... forgive me for waking you, but... the Duke... he’s here again.”

Eira groaned, rubbing her eyes. “So early?”

The maid bowed, trembling. “He... he looks quite angry. He says he’s here for his answer.”

Eira blinked, sitting up slowly, brushing strands of hair behind her ears. “Answer...?”

Then it hit her.

The orphanage.

She never told him if she'd cancel the sale.

“Oh no,” she muttered, swinging her feet off the bed. “Did he come here directly?”

“Yes, My Lady,” the maid mumbled, her eyes darting. “He’s waiting in the sunroom. Said he won’t leave until he hears your decision.”

Eira stood, still barefoot, her robe slipping slightly off her shoulder as she made her way to the mirror.

Dark circles hugged her eyes. She hadn’t slept much, but she felt... awake.

Alive.

Determined.

She turned to the maid, smirking playfully, “Well... guess I’ll keep the Duke waiting just a little longer.”

The maid blinked. “Pardon?”

Eira winked. “Let him stew.”

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