Odessa
I didn't mean to wander. I just couldn't sit still any longer.
The silence in the mansion wasn't peaceful today. It echoed. It scraped. Every room felt too big, too empty, too loud in the wrong kind of quiet. I attempted to lose myself in a book, then picked up my sketchpad, and later tackled chores with the hope of distraction. But none of it worked.
Because today… Today marked another painful year since Mel's death, and I felt a bitter anger rise within me. How could the world move on so easily, treating her like just another name on paper?. I hated how even I—sometimes—found ways to forget for hours, or even days, until guilt slammed back into me like a wave.
I wandered upstairs, then down again, not really thinking about where I was going. The halls felt different, heavier. My feet brought me to a narrow corridor at the end of the west wing—a part of the house I rarely visited.
That's when I noticed the door.
It was tucked behind a long velvet curtain, dust clinging to the brass knob like it hadn't been turned in years. I stared at it for a moment, my heart inexplicably thudding. I tried to ignore it, but my curiosity thinks otherwise.
I opened it.
The room was dim and stale, lit only by a sliver of sunlight pushing through a crack in the boards. It was filled with forgotten things—furniture draped in white cloth, old trunks, a cracked mirror leaning against the wall. A storeroom. Or maybe a memory box no one dared to open.
I stepped inside, careful, curious. Something about the place felt... sacred. From the way things looked in here, Marcel would kill me if he found me here.
But then I needed something to distract my mind with and this little adventure was more than enough for me.
Dust covered most of the room, making it a bit difficult for me to figure out where to start.
I finally caught sight of something intriguing and I rushed to pick the box up. It was wrapped up like a little Christmas present with ribbons tied around it.
My eyes lit up with the eagerness to know the contents and I immediately untied the ribbons, making sure to not ruin it so I can tie it back the way it was.
As I lifted the lid, dust gushed out of the inside and I sneezed a couple of times.
"Gosh, how long has this been here?" I muttered as I pulled the cloth covering the contents away.
"Letters.." I whispered and placed the cloth on the floor so I could sit and read.
I picked up the first letter, and after admiring the embroidery on the letter, I flipped it open, and the word "My dearest Thana" jumped at me.
"Isn't Thana the lady who visited Marcel the other day?" I asked nobody in particular, and my heart dropped.
I read through the letter, hoping to see someone else's name as the sender, but then Marcel Edgar was boldly written at the foot of the letter.
One letter after the other, each one felt more intimate than the other, and tears gathered in my eyes.
Why would he agree to marry me when he had a whole love story going on?
Marcel had loved her.
Not in a vague, passing way—but deeply. Fully. In a way he had never spoken of. At least not to me.
"You should have just let me go with the stinky old man… I'm sure he'd be dead by now and I might finally get my freedom.." I hissed and struggled up from the floor.
The tears came suddenly, hot and fast. My throat closed up. My fingers trembled. My heart… felt like it was cracking all over again.
I needed something. Anything.
In the corner of the room, half-covered by linen, was a wooden crate of old wine bottles. I pulled one out, wiping off the dust. I didn't care how old it was. I just wanted to forget—for a little while.
I drank straight from the bottle, the bitter liquid burning my throat. I didn't stop. Maybe I wanted it to hurt.
My head swayed, and the room looked like it was spinning. I sat back down on the cloth and read through the letters over again, only this time, I replaced Thana's name with mine.
"Why am I obsessing over a man I barely know?" I slurred and tossed the letter away.
I didn't even know what hurt the most. The fact that I still don't know how my sister was killed or who killed her, and I can't move on from her death… or the fact that I'm stuck with a man who married me only on paper.
I was still sitting on the floor, the wine bottle half-empty beside me, when the door creaked open and I heard footsteps approaching.
They sounded familiar, and I slowly looked up from the floor.
"Marcel?" I called.
"Odessa?" His voice was low, startled. "What are you doing here?"
I hiccupped and tried to stand, but gravity disagreed. I sank back down and started crying again.
He crouched beside me and stared at my face. But I leaned back and wiped my face with the back of my hands.
"No need to act like you care about me, Marcel," I blurted and pulled myself up. "I'm a slave, don't forget"
"Slaves don't go around reading their master's letters and drinking his old wine in a place that is clearly out of bounds for slaves…" Marcel shot back and folded his arms behind him.
"But here you are, doing all of that and still calling yourself a slave Odessa.."
I glared at him sternly, wondering if it was just the alcohol disturbing me or if he was actually telling me that I'm not a slave to him.
"Marcel, what do you really want with me?" I asked and the tears came flowing down again. "One minute I mean absolutely nothing to you.. and now you stand here and make me feel like I am more than I assume myself to be.."
He took a step towards me, closing the distance between us, and my heartbeat skyrocketed.
"Come on.." he muttered, and before I could blink, my feet were off the floor. "Let's get you to bed."
My eyes were glued to his face as he carried me all the way upstairs and up to my room, shutting the door with his legs.
He put me down gently on the bed, and his warm breath grazed my bare skin. Our lips brushed against each other and I could feel my pulse rising.
"Get some rest. We'll talk later" he said and placed a kiss on my forehead.