The wind made its way through the cracks of the old manor walls, slipping in like it had always belonged there.
The candle by the wall flickered with every gust. Shadows twitched across the wooden floor.
Eliza stood three or four steps ahead, her back straight, arms still. Just standing there.
In front of her, the duke looked smaller than usual — not because he had shrunk, but because he was trying to.
His shoulders were pulled in, his head slightly bowed, like he hoped he could fold himself out of existence.
She didn't speak. Not because she didn't want to — but because there was too much she wanted to say.
Too much it got stuck. The shouting, the crying, the words that wouldn't come.
So instead, she stayed still. Silent.
And the wind, the manor, the candle — everything else stayed still with her.
The duke shifted his weight, almost flinching at the sound of his own boots creaking.
Then quietly, he tried, swallowing hard as he spoke.
"…Lady Eliza…"
Just that. Barely a whisper.
She turned her head and looked him dead in the eyes.
One look. That was enough.
He fell silent again.
Even the candle stilled, like it didn't dare flicker anymore.
...
She didn't scream at first.
Her words came out cold. Precise. Like a knife slowly dragged across skin.
"You took my only everything."
She didn't raise her voice. Not yet.
But her fists were shaking at her sides.
Her breath came quicker. Louder.
And her eyes — wet. Tears she didn't want, didn't welcome, but couldn't stop either.
"You don't get to mourn her."
The Duke looked like he was about to speak — but one look from her froze him mid-breath.
"Don't you dare."
Now her voice rose. Not a scream, but close. Edges fraying.
"Don't you dare mourn her. Not when it's your fault she's gone."
She took a step forward, and for a moment, the candlelight caught the shimmer in her eyes.
"You ordered it. You set it in motion. So live with it."
Her voice was trembling now — not weak. Contained. Barely.
"Live with her death on your conscience. Let it rot in your chest.
And never—never—forget this day."
A breath. Not calm. Not steady.
But she made herself still again. Raised her chin. Pulled the ice back into her tone.
"Get out.
Get out, and never appear before me again."