The Rain

The perpetual rain here weighs on my mood, an unyielding downpour that defies my control. I exhale, my breath a silent prayer for a swift departure. Through the oversized window, memories surge—a deluge of forgotten moments. A decade has passed since I last stepped foot in this unchanging place. The cold stone floors echo emptiness, while the floor-to-ceiling windows invite a gentle breeze. I shiver, arms wrapped tightly around myself. From this vantage point, the garden and lake unfold—a bittersweet smile tugging at my lips. Gorgia and I once raced through the flower maze, carefree. Now, as I stand here, the world whispers that my departure was madness, but choices were scarce.

I swipe the stray tear away as it rolls down my cheek. Someone not far behind me clears their throat “ah miss Caroline the missus is ready for you.” The timid voice fills the quite space.

“Thank you, is she in the study?” I asked her.

The tiny girl dressed in the traditional attire of our household’s staff. She wore a crisp, white apron over her modest dress, the fabric neatly pressed and immaculate. Her hair was tucked away in a neat bun, not a strand out of place, embodying the order and discipline she was expected to maintain. “Yes, miss.”

The staff won't look at me even after all these years. I often wonder if that wasn’t mothers doing but I sigh again knowing it’s pointless. I take off down the hall in the direction of my father's study. My old tennis shoes and ripped jeans make me feel out of place. I know she’s meeting me there to make a statement. Everything this family does has alterative motive. I thought I had gotten away from all of this but when some random dude showed up at my door to hand deliver her letter. I knew I was being pulled right back in. I could have refused to come but then she would show up herself and that would make things worse.

I lightly knock on the door before I crack it open. I hear the soft click of her nails knocking on the wooden top before I see her. She looks the same as she did all those years ago. I guess the only difference is the slight signs of aging. I take a moment to look around the dimly lit room. Not much sun comes through the windows with all the doom and gloom outside. The same wooden bookshelves are filled with the same dusty books. The fireplace looks like it hasn’t been lit in a long time, and all the same furniture sits in the same place. I feel like I have gone back in time, but I know deep down nothing is the same.

Her voice makes me cringe, “You took your time to get here.”

I try my best to hide the roll of my eyes. “Well I am here now mother.” I should try to not upset her or there is no telling what she will do.

“Your birthday is in a few days,” she already sounded annoyed. That’s just great. She has never cared about my birthday before.

I play with a loose string on my sleeve wherever this is going can’t be good. “yes, it has been the same day every year. Why is my twenty-sixth any different?”

She suddenly stops taping her nails, “You know our family comes from long history.” She looks me up and down in disapproval. “Our family has a long-standing tradition dating back over six hundred years ago.” I nod my head knowing the history of our family being told it for decades. “Well smart ass there’s a few things you don’t know.”

The grin on her face has me pausing as my gut fills with concern. “What are you not telling me?”

She cackles more to herself than anything. “Well, you were not my first choice. But since there are no other women for this marriage. It is now your responsibility.” She sucked on her teeth like what she just said didn’t come out of her mouth.

“What do you mean by that?” I clenched my fists to stop them from shaking. “What wedding?” The feeling of dread sat heavy in my stomach as I process what she just said.

She gives me a sickening sweet smile, “Yours dear Caroline.”

I shake my head, “There is no way in hell I am marrying anyone. Let alone someone I have never met.”

“That is where you are wrong, your father's family has had this tradition forever. You won’t be the one to break it now.” She picked at her nails. “You have been set to marry Lord Syndril since the day you were born. Every generation gives up one daughter to be exact.”

I swallowed down the vomit threating to come up. “What will happen if I don’t?” I could make a run for it but I would never make out the front door.

She looks me in the eyes for the first time, “The death of our whole line.”

“How can they do something like that?” I shouted throwing a fit like a child.

She shook her head, “they don’t play by the rules of the living.”

“What the fuck dose that even mean?” I try my best to keep my anger at bay, but I feel my facade cracking.

That sickening smile had made its second appearance of the day. “I don’t want to ruin the surprise.” She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture meaning this lovely chat was over. “Oh, your father left you a present for the special occasion. The staff has placed it in your room already.”

I bite my tongue and walk out knowing it’s better to go along with her crazy plan until I can find a way out of it. To be honest there is no way to know if she speaks the truth or not. My family has been dying off for years and my father isn’t around to ask anymore. Mother only knows what she has been told about the family and from what I know that wasn’t much. I was raised in this life she was only brought into once my biological mother had passed. I don’t remember her; I only know what I have been told, which wasn’t much. My stepmother had banned everyone from talking about her. I have no idea why my father would allow such a thing, but every picture had been removed along with all her belongings.

The only reason I know of her is because I had a very defiant nanny. She hated my stepmother and made sure I knew where I came from. It makes me somewhat glad to know I am not her biological child. As I leave the study, the weight of my mother’s words hangs heavy on my shoulders. The idea of being forced into a marriage with a man I’ve never met, bound by an ancient family tradition, feels like a noose tightening around my neck. I can’t help but wonder about Lord Syndril, the man I’m supposed to marry. Is he aware of this arrangement? Does he even exist, or is he just another pawn in my mother’s twisted games?