Reflections of the Past

The room was quiet, save for the soft rustle of the curtains as a gentle breeze drifted through the open window. I lay in bed, my body still weak from the fainting spell earlier that day. The weight of my responsibilities as an Edgewood was overwhelming, but more than that, the memories of the years I had lost—years spent in a world so far removed from the grandeur of this estate—hung heavily on my heart.

I felt a familiar presence beside me and turned to see my grandmother, Mrs. Edgewood, sitting on the edge of the bed. Her eyes, filled with concern and love, met mine. She had aged gracefully, her silver hair framing a face that had seen so much over the years. Yet, there was a softness in her expression, a warmth that I hadn’t felt in a long time.

"My dear Anna," she began, her voice soothing, "I’m so sorry that you’ve had to go through all of this alone. I wish I had found you sooner. I wish I had known where you were, what you were enduring. But now that you’re home, I want to und