My mask of the perfect lady had been riddled with cracks for a good long while, but now a fragment of it fell away for the first time.
“I... You’d protect me?” I choked out between sobs, my voice trembling. “Even after everything I’ve done?”
“What you’ve done is no longer the issue at hand!” His voice, firm yet tempered with a father’s love, cut through my doubts like a blade. “You must live, my dear girl! If not for you, then for me. You cannot die—not when I have yet to fulfill my duty of providing you with a life of joy, a life free from fear!”
With that, he pulled me into an embrace. It was the first time I’d truly felt my father’s warmth, and the tears poured forth in a greater torrent than they ever had before. We stayed that way, locked in each other’s arms, as the minutes stretched into what felt like an eternity, maybe longer. My sobs gradually quieted, the storm inside me finally beginning to abate. Throughout it all, he remained still, holding me with a patience I’d never known he possessed, as if he were willing my pain to pass.
When the last of my tears had ebbed, he gently pulled away, his thumb tenderly brushing the wetness from my cheeks. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry like that before,” he murmured, a sad smile tugging at his lips as he handed me his handkerchief. I accepted it without a word, dabbing at my eyes while he awkwardly stroked my hair.
“We will go to Carolina and apologize together,” Father continued, his voice steady. “This burden is as much mine to bear as it is yours. I wasn’t there for you when your mother passed. That is my greatest and most unforgivable mistake.” He paused, his face tightening into a frown. “I should have held you then, like I’m holding you now.”
I gently shook my head. “No, Father, you don’t need to blame yourself. What I have done is entirely my responsibility.”
“I don’t deserve that kind of grace,” he replied softly. “Not when I ignored all of your mother’s warnings. I had so many chances to prevent this tragedy, but I failed you each time.” His gaze locked with mine, filled with a despairing plea. “Can you ever forgive me, my daughter?”
His resolve was unshakable; I could see it in every line of his face. Nothing I could say would change his mind. It pained me to draw him into the consequences of my actions, but denying him his culpability—and a chance to atone for it—would it not only deepen his sorrow?
Yes, Flora, remember this pain, for it is part of your penance. And remember what it feels like to have someone share the burden of your mistakes—for that is what it means to be loved.
“Very well, Father,” I said quietly. “If that is what you wish, let us atone together.”
“It is,” he affirmed with a faint smile. He gave my head another gentle caress before casting his gaze towards the royal castle looming over the city. “We will go to her immediately. Carolina is set to depart for Noir tomorrow. As the victim in all this, she must decide how we are to make amends.” He extended his hand towards me. “Let us go.”
My eyes began to well up once more. I knew that any sound I made would turn into fresh tears, so I simply nodded in silence and placed my hand in his.