Chapter 226: A glimpse of the past
I remember asking Thorne to uncover the truth about my mother’s time here—the life she led before I was born, before fate wove me into her story. I had always wondered, always felt the weight of unanswered questions pressing down on me. What had her days been like in this place? What dreams had she left behind when she chose me? Now, it seems the answers are right in front of me, unfolding in real time like the delicate petals of a flower finally revealing its core.
A soft shuffle of footsteps along the garden’s stone path draws my attention. My breath stills as I watch an elderly woman, frail and weathered by time, being carefully guided by a pair of young servants. The garden, usually so vibrant and full of life, seems to hush in reverence for her arrival. Each step she takes feels deliberate, as though every movement carries the weight of countless memories.
The woman’s back is slightly hunched, her thin frame draped in layers of soft fabric that whisper with every shift. Her silver hair is neatly braided and pinned back, though a few wisps escape, framing a face etched with deep lines. Wrinkles that speak of laughter shared, tears shed, and decades of stories lived. The sands of time have worn her down, but there’s a quiet strength in her tired eyes, a glimmer that refuses to be dimmed by age.
My heart tightens. I already know who she is.
She reaches the stone bench beside me and settles down with a sigh, her hands trembling as they smooth the folds of her shawl across her lap. For a moment, I can’t bring myself to speak. I simply watch her, this living connection to my mother’s past, to a time I never knew. The questions I’ve carried for so long suddenly feel too large, too overwhelming.
A gentle giggle breaks the stillness, and I glance up to see Thorne holding our daughter, little Mimi, in his arms. He gives me a small nod, stepping away to give me privacy, but remains within my line of sight. Even from a distance, I can see the soft adoration in his gaze as he plays with our child, spinning her gently until she squeals with delight. My heart warms at the sight.
"Such a beautiful family," the old woman’s voice draws me back. It’s soft, almost fragile, like a thread of silk ready to fray, but there’s warmth in it too.
I meet her gaze, and for a moment, I feel exposed. Vulnerable. She knows—somehow, she knows everything just by looking at me.
"It’s all she ever wanted, you know," she continues, her eyes drifting to Thorne and Mimi. "An ordinary family."