<u>Ophelia’s memories, 2nd life</u>


    "Eat." Marquess Verne stated moments before banging his hand on the dinner table, causing most of the glass cups to shudder. His voice was loud, and every syllable rung in my ear like a drum, pounding within me over and over again. "I said... eat!"


    The warm tablespoon touched the base of my lips, allowing me to consume the tomato soup rather slowly. In this house, everyone had no choice but to obey the Marquess as his word equaled the law and having been wed into the family, I was no exception.


    "The ball is tomorrow so you must look your best, Ophelia. We can''t have your father thinking something is wrong." Verne''s eldest son, Julius, declared while handing me a loaf of bread. His chocolate eyes appeared to be quite similar to his father''s but, contrary to the Marquess, his hair color was the shade of a beautiful blonde, like a sunflower blooming wildly in the midst of the green plains surrounding the capital.


    "Julius, you must bring out the matter of the ships. We need the Duke''s patronage otherwise..." James'' voice sharpened, emphasizing the importance of his words.


    "I know Father. I won''t disappoint you." With a charming smile stamped on his lips, Julius responded, his spoon grabbing a hefty chunk of tomato soup before consuming it in a gulp.


    "And you, Ophelia, you have to do your job or..." Like a wolf threatening to rip the neck of a sheep, the Marquess''s eyes were like daggers, carefully analyzing me, following me wherever I went.


    Every single night we would have these so-called family dinners, yet my stomach seemed to barely get hold of the delicious foods passing through, always ending up with an indigestion born out the stress that man put me through. His expectations were high, that was the sole reason he''d married me into the family - to use my presence as leverage to snatch and influence father''s choices and investments, a true leech, sucking our funds dry.


    But he hadn''t yet realized that father only knew how to love my elder sister, Amanda. She was the flower of his eyes, the most perfect, beautiful child who had bloom into a flower all men wished to snatch. And then, there was me, someone who hadn''t seen the life out of four sickening walls for over a decade, someone who knew nothing of this world filled with shallow words and hidden intentions. How could he expect me to do whatever he wished of me?


    "I will do my best, sir..." My hands trembled, struggling to fit anything into my stomach as it twitched and twisted on itself, eager to let loose of the few tablespoons I''d already consumed.


    "Good." The Marquess''s finger raised in the air and mere moments later the dining hall was enveloped by the charismatic scent of roasted beef.


    "Aren''t you excited? You will be able to be with your sister again?" Maeve, the maid that had been assigned as my handmaid after framing Vanessa and Penny, chuckled in a rather mocking tone, combing my hair sloppily, knots thriving almost everywhere.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    At first, Maeve was exactly the person my mind pictured a perfect maid to be, composed, unable to meddle in other''s affairs, however everything changed when my handmaids arrived. Somehow, rows of empty alcohol bottles were found under their beds and thus, they had no choice but to leave the estate, being considered complete drunkards who only knew how to spend their money in temporary pleasantries. Without them, a sense of loneliness embraced me, as it became clear I was in this house alone, with no soul to rely on - but then she appeared. Kind and welcoming, she crawled into my heart, just to step on it later on.


    Once Layton eloped, Maeve''s attitude changed, becoming careless, ruthless and sarcastic with anything she said - always disregarding my status, ignoring the fact that I was the daughter of a Duke. It was clear to see she''d always despised me, just like everyone else in this house.


    "Yes, very..." With nerves darting through me, my words came out low and hesitantly, stuttering slightly in the process.


    "Good, now go to bed Ophelia. I have other matters to attend." Covering her mouth with her hands, hoping to trap the wide yawn escaping her lips, Maeve rapidly left the room. The comb laid on top of the desk and the bed, possessing the same sheets for over a month, had been left unopened.


    Never once had she received permission to address me so casually, yet her wickedness knew no bounds, being constantly taunting me with her words, teasing me, attempting to get a reaction out of me just to rat out to the Marquess. Her intentions were quite clear and yet, I couldn''t bring myself to condone her for it. Being the cursed child, all my existence brought was bad luck so maybe, this ruthless treatment, was but my sole way to repent of such sins.


    In the mirror standing before me, my gaze traveled through each nook and cranny of my expression. Dark eye bags pulled my eyes down, courtesy of the fires that haunted my dreams, like sickening nightmares, leeching off my sanity; a pale complexion that made porcelain cower in envy, appearing to be paler than a corpse, a consequence of the lack of sunlight; and a frail figure who yearned for a decent meal but was unable to eat without the Marquess around.


    Mentally, my mind was already preparing itself to encounter them. Certainly, the moment they laid their gazes on me the ruthless comments would begin.


    Of course, you can''t even keep a man. You are nothing more but a cursed beast. That should be something between the lines of what Amanda would say, using the opportunity of Layton''s escape as a triggering point to harass me, once again.


    I didn''t raise a child to lose a husband like this... just when I thought you couldn''t disappoint me further, you manage to exceed my expectations. Was probably what father might say.


    The harsh rain fell outside, knocking on the windows as the brute wind blew it further and further away, attempting to break the windows for its own pleasure. It was such a cold and dark night, as if the skies knew of what was bound to come, warning me to escape this dreadful mansion.


    "Happy birthday to me..." I mumbled, singing to myself in a low voice, before blowing the candle at the edge of the table, providing the space with a flickering light.


    No one remembered. Why would they? Layton, with all his flaws, at least handed me flowers on my birthday, probably out of guilt for being unable to give me the love he thought I deserved. Reminiscing about those times, a stinging pain struck my heart. Never once had my soul loved him, yearned for him, and yet, it found itself missing him dearly. Why was I such a foolish sample of a woman?


    Tears dripped through my eyes moments before my body sunk into the mattress, covered by the oily sheets. With the settling exhaustion and lack of sleep, my tears ran dry, and my consciousness faded away into a different plane of existence.