It was raining in Aragonia that night as Isabelle curled up on her bed, trying not to cry as she stared out the window of her room where rainwater splashed against the glass, and the wind that slipped through the little gaps played with her curtains, swaying them inward.
She had always enjoyed rainy days and liked to watch as the rain fell from the heavens, but this afternoon was different. She was in a dull, unsettled mood, where her heart ached and longed desperately for the man she loved. Nothing seemed or looked as enjoyable as being in his company, in his arms, where the world always felt brighter.
"Milady, you should eat. Lord Deven will return as he promised. It is only a week before his return now. I don’t think he will like to see you in this state when he comes back," Claire, her maidservant, said gently as she came to the bed holding a tray filled with different kinds of food her lady loved to eat. She set it carefully on the stand and looked down at the unmoving young woman, who was staring blankly out the window with empty eyes.
"The duke and duchess are worried about you, my lady. You haven’t stepped out of your room in such a long time." Claire reached out and stroked her disheveled blonde hair in a familiar, soothing way, for she was more like a companion and friend to her mistress than merely her maid. There were days they shared meals together, and even the same bed; Isabelle even allowed her to try on her dresses and jewelry, from how close they were to one another.
"I don’t feel like doing anything, Claire. I just want to stay here and starve, and lose my glow. I want to become dull," Isabelle said in a hoarse voice, her lips pursed. "You know I want to teach him a lesson, so he wouldn’t pack up like that and leave me again next time. I told him I won’t be the same when he comes back. Call it childish, I don’t care. He won’t find me the same woman." She murmured this stubbornly, while trying not to breathe in the delicious aroma of the food. She pinched her nose tight, as though blocking out the temptation of food, and glared at Claire, who could only laugh at her mistress’s stubbornness.
"Take away the food. I don’t want it. I am too heartbroken to eat and too angry at Deven to enjoy it, and too in love with him to feel at ease when he’s gone far away." She pushed at Claire from the bed as her friend kept laughing at her childishness, though it was the same Isabelle who had declared she was a grown woman and would act like one before her marriage, but now she was refusing to do anything simply because her husband-to-be hadn’t kept his promise of staying and helping in the wedding arrangements like they had planned.
"All right, my lady. But at least eat one bite, just like yesterday, and I will take the rest away," Claire said as she picked up a plate of her mistress’s favorite food, knowing that just like yesterday, if Isabelle ate one bite, she wouldn’t be able to help herself and would end up finishing it. However, Claire noticed her mistress’s expression had turned sober and her lashes were trembling as she looked away and said,
"I am so angry at him, Claire. It wasn’t just because he traveled, without once hesitating to break the promise he made me to stay, but because he didn’t even look like he would miss me. He talked only about the land he was going to buy, not caring to apologize for the fact that he couldn’t make it to the seamstress with me to get our measurements for the matching wedding attires we wanted. You know what? He has forgotten he even made the promise and began to argue that he never made such promises. That was what I didn’t like. It was like going to Barbara was more important than our wedding, which was supposed to be sooner but was postponed because of his travels..."
Isabelle turned to look at Claire. "Do you see why I am angry? I can’t wait to get married to him, and I thought he also wanted that, but going to Barbara is much more important to him. And I am angry at myself that I still love him so much despite that. I... I was hoping he would send me a letter. Did he send any yet?" she asked her friend with a hopeful look in her hazel eyes, but Claire could only shake her head sadly.
"He hasn’t sent any. Your appointment to check your dress at the shop tomorrow was the only envelope I received," Claire said, and she saw how her mistress’s eyes turned downcast and she looked away dejectedly.
"Don’t worry. Perhaps there is no way to send a letter from Barbara. You know it is just a small land with nothing to it, unlike Aragonia. Lord Deven must be dying to come back to you as well," Claire assured her, though her words brought no light to her mistress’s sad eyes.
Isabelle’s hazel eyes stared sightlessly at the falling rain, listening to the soft patter it made against the roof for a full minute as though she were lost in thoughts too heavy to escape. At last, she sighed deeply, moved from the bed, and reached out toward the tray. She began to eat, giving up her stubborn, childish determination to punish him by starving herself and growing dull.
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