Edwina
I couldn't believe that a man so incredibly handsome could exist. In this Kingdom, I had never encountered anyone like him: soft, silky black hair, long eyelashes coveted by women, perfectly proportioned lips, a chiseled jaw, and a body I was sure even Steven would envy. I refrained from counting his abdominal muscles, but I estimated there were around eight.
"Where are you from?" I wondered. "Are you just passing through, or are you here to stay?"
"Are you speaking to an unconscious man?" Evelyn inquired.
"I'm just thinking out loud," I replied. "Are you back from the market? How did it go?"
"The same," She sighed, settling down on the low stool. "I'm sick and tired of everything that's going on."
"Papa said that the farmers' cooperative society is willing to loan him the money he asked for," I informed her, trying to offer some reassurance. "They gave him six months to pay back."
"Will that be enough to get what we want done?" Evelyn asked, her concern evident. "The roof is leaking, the house is literally falling apart, and the land is..." She let out a defeated sigh. "We need to do something about the farm or else we won't be able to plant or harvest crops."
"That's exactly what he's going to do with the money," I assured her, attempting to instill confidence. "Everything will work out."
"I hope so."
"No." A voice, neither mine nor Eve's, rasped as if in pain. "Darius... No. No!"
I placed my hands on his shoulders as he started to thrash around on the bed, and Evelyn joined in when she saw that I couldn't handle him alone. He finally settled down, mumbling apologies under his breath, and then we were shocked to see tears running down the side of his face.
"Shouldn't we wake him up?" Evelyn whispered anxiously. "He's obviously having a bad dream."
"I think he has a fever," I murmured, touching his forehead and then mine to compare temperatures. Mine was cool, but he was burning hot. "We have to bring it down."
"I'll get a bowl of water and a cloth," Evelyn said, getting up and leaving the room.
"Wake up, Darius... Please," his hoarse voice barely rose above a whisper. "I'm sorry."
I caught a single tear with my finger before it trailed down his face, reminiscent of the first one. He seemed to be in immense emotional pain, making me wonder what could be happening in his dream that would make this grown man cry.
Strangely, whatever it was, it stirred an unexpected empathy within me. I rarely sympathized with anyone outside my family, the only exception was when Steven lost his beloved younger sister five years ago. I always felt that no one had it harder than I did, or than my family did.
Even when I encountered someone with a sadder life story, I wasn't moved. But watching this man in this vulnerable moment, my heart ached for him. This man's tears evoked sympathy within me, despite my lack of knowledge about him or his story.
"Everything will be fine," I said, holding his hand and comforting him. "You'll get through this. Don't cry." His grip on my hand tightened unexpectedly, and though my body recovered quickly from the shock, my heart raced inexplicably, as if trying to escape my chest.
This was absolutely crazy because it had never happened to me before, not once. I pulled my hand away abruptly when I heard Evelyn returning. I stood up, mumbling an excuse that I doubted she fully understood, and left hastily, feeling as if my legs were on fire.
I gasped in surprise and simultaneously elbowed the person stupid enough to hug me from behind. As I turned around, ready to defend myself, I realized it was only Steven, bent over and clutching his side in pain.
"Argh," He groaned, his face twisted in pain.
"I've warned you not to do that again," My voice came out sharper than I intended. "You should've learned your lesson by now."
"You're strong," He rasped, straightening to his full height.
"I had a very good teacher, although he's not very strong anymore because of the food he keeps wolfing down whenever he gets the chance," I taunted him. "And he doesn't exercise anymore."
"I do exercise," He refuted. "I went for a run this morning."
"Whatever. Sorry about that," I apologized. "You caught me off guard."
"I've been calling you for over three minutes. What's on your mind? It's unlike you to get lost in thought. Thank goodness that a car wasn't coming," He said, falling into step with me as I resumed walking.
"Everything," I replied vaguely. "Are you going somewhere?"
"I was coming to see you. I heard that a stranger was robbed and left for dead by some unknown thugs. I also heard that you and your father rescued him," Steven said. "Is he okay?"
Small towns. News spreads like wildfire in small towns, no matter how hard you try to hide it. I let out a sigh and nodded.
"Yes, he's alright. He's still unconscious," I answered. "Thank goodness his stab wound wasn't very deep. Although, judging by the other bruises on his body that are still healing, he was likely involved in some kind of accident."
"Were his injuries severe?" Steven inquired.
"Not severe enough for us to take him to the hospital. My father used herbal medicine to treat him, and he doesn't seem to be in any physical pain," I replied, although I couldn't ignore the emotional pain that made him cry.
"All of his belongings were taken, right? He won't have clothes to wear when he wakes up?" Steven asked.
"No," A memory from the night before flashed through my mind, causing my cheeks to heat up. My father had been too exhausted to carry him on his back, so I offered to do it. It was challenging carrying such a man, and it wouldn't have been so bad if I hadn't felt his... manhood poking my lower back. I couldn't get home fast enough last night.
"Are you blushing?" Steven's voice jolted me out of my reverie.
"What?" My voice unexpectedly rose in pitch as my hands instinctively covered my cheeks. "Are you seeing things?"
"No. You were definitely blushing," Steven said, sounding highly amused. "I've known you for thirteen years, Eddie, and I've never seen you blush. Not even when my cousin Bradley came from the city and called you beautiful. You weren't impressed by the expensive gifts he gave you."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," I retorted, clearing my throat noisily. "The sun is hot, and I have fair skin. What do you expect to happen?"
"I wish I had a phone. I would have taken a picture of your pink cheeks," He teased, grinning like a fool. "So, what were you thinking about, or rather, who were you thinking about?"
"Nothing," I scowled at him. "Stop being so nosy." I quickened my pace to get away from him, but he caught up with me. "Don't you need to help your father on the farm? I'm sure you have deliveries to make."
Steven's family was prosperous. His father owned one of the largest poultry farms in the Kingdom, supplying meat and fish to the royal family and neighboring kingdoms. In addition, his mother ran the only frozen food business in the Kingdom. His older sister, Faith, was married to Prince Jackson, the King's second son. It was her assistance that had freed me from the King's clutches.
She had pleaded with her husband, who, in turn, had interceded with the king on my behalf, reducing my one-month community service to just one week. While Steven could afford not to work, his father detested laziness and often quoted the proverb about 'no food for a lazy man.'
"I was also coming to tell you that I will be traveling to Mercia this evening with my older brother, Daniel," He said. "Deliveries to make, as you said."
"Then you better get going," I said. "It's a two-day journey if you don't make stops."
"I have some clothes to give out if you want," He informed me. "For the stranger. They still look quite new."
"Um... Okay," I replied. It would be impossible for the stranger to wear my father's clothes anyway, and he seemed about the same size as Steven. "Thank you."
"I'll let Benny know that you're coming so she can give them to you."
"Sure. Thanks," I smiled.
"Hug? I'll be gone for a few days," He offered, opening his arms.
"Except you want another hit to your ribs," I threatened. "I'll see you when you get back."
He rolled his eyes heavenward, ruffled my hair as quickly as he could, and took off before I could retaliate.
"Silly," I mumbled as I combed my hair back with my fingers. I didn't have the time or patience to sit down and get it plaited, even though it wouldn't take much of my time or Esther's.
Remembering that I'd promised to take over from Esther at the market so she could go home and rest, I started the walk to the market.
Edwina No matter how guilty I felt, I couldn’t help myself—I kept the conversation going, mostly just to prove a point. I was stubborn like that. I always have been. Even when I knew I was wrong, something in me just couldn’t back down without having the last word—even if it meant pushing someone else’s buttons."We’ve already been left high and dry..." I muttered, half to myself, half to the room, bitterness creeping into my voice before I could stop it. And maybe—just maybe—I wanted Justice to feel what it was like to be left behind, to carry the weight of that silence, even if he hadn’t earned it.Not because he deserved it, but because I didn’t know what else to do with my own hurt. I guess that was my own kind of pettiness.“Edwina, leave Justice alone,” Mama said firmly, cutting off my tirade before it could gain more traction. Her voice was calm but carried the kind of weight that shut everyone up immediately.Her tone wasn’t angry, just weary—like someone who had seen enoug
EdwinaThe hallway to the ICU felt longer than any road I’d ever walked. Every step echoed off the tiled floor like it was measuring my guilt, my fear, and the weight of the unknown that lay behind the door ahead.I paused just outside, staring at the faded “Authorized Personnel Only” sign like it was a final warning. But a nurse had already waved me through. “Five minutes,” she’d said gently. I wasn’t sure if five minutes would be enough to hold back the flood I felt inside, or if it would break me completely.The door clicked shut behind me, sealing me in with the beeping machines, the antiseptic air, and the man who had built his life with soil-stained hands and an unshakable will.My father—Cyril Jonas—was barely recognizable.He lay still, eyes closed, lips slightly parted. Tubes snaked from his arms, and a monitor beeped steadily beside him like a countdown. There was oxygen hooked under his nose, and the usual deep brown of his face looked ashen under the hospital lights.My h
EdwinaOur livelihood was gone. Just like that—burnt to ashes in the fire that consumed the only thing that had ever stood between us and poverty. And now… my dad, the strongest man I knew, was lying in a hospital bed, heart failing him when we needed his strength the most.The sky hadn’t just fallen. It had crashed, violently, and crushed everything we had beneath it—dreams, pride, security. All gone.I sat still, hands clenched in my lap, my heart rattling in my chest like loose change. Who could I even blame for this? God? The devil? Or was it just plain old bad luck, cruel and random as it always was?Where were we supposed to start from? I honestly had no clue.Granted, we weren’t exactly living like royalty before the fire—we never had—but the little we did have… it had been enough. Somehow, it had always stretched, always sustained us through the rough days and the even rougher months. It had been enough.Until...I stopped my thoughts before they could spiral, forcing them to
Maximilian "It’s four a.m." Francis replied. "But that doesn’t matter. I was on my way home when I passed by your farm and I saw it on fire."My heart skipped a beat. Fire? At Cyril’s farm? That had to be a mistake. A joke. A sick one maybe—but still a joke. It couldn’t be real."What?!" Cyril exclaimed. "Francis, you like to play pranks. Today is not April 1st. Please don’t scare me like that."I wanted to believe Cyril. I really did. I wanted this to be a joke. But the way Francis was breathing, the sheer panic in his eyes, the tightness in his jaw—it told me this was no prank.Francis let out a sharp, exasperated huff, his nostrils flaring as he dragged a hand down his face, fingers pressing into his skin like he was trying to hold himself together. His eyes burned with frustration, jaw clenched tight enough to crack."It’s not a prank, I’m serious," Francis insisted, his voice carrying a weight that made something sink in my chest.He wasn’t lying. No man—no sane man, at least, w
Maximillian Why do bad things happen to good people? Or was it just me? Was I the problem—the one cursed with the kind of bad luck that stuck to you like a second skin, no matter how fast you ran or how far you tried to go? I didn’t know what to think anymore. My heart clenched as I stood on the sidelines, watching the world crumble for a family that didn’t deserve it.Edwina and her sisters were trying, and failing, to lift their father, who had slumped to the ground after seeing his field — his pride and livelihood — turned to ash. Their mother lay sprawled over his body, wailing like a woman who’d just watched her entire world go up in flames."Justice! What are you doing? Help us!" Edwina’s voice sliced through the air like a blade, raw and desperate.I flinched. Justice. That name still didn't feel like mine. Not anymore. Not after everything.You might be wondering how the hell we got from the peace of last night to the nightmare unraveling before me now. I’ll tell you. It st
EdwinaMy mind blanked for a second.“That bitch did what?” I hissed, the words barely making it out of my clenched jaw. Before Steven could respond, I tossed my machete and basket aside like they’d suddenly caught fire and took off down the path like a storm on legs. Like my life depended on it. “You know the way home, Justice!” I yelled over my shoulder without looking back.Honestly, everyone in the entire kingdom knew Agatha—Tony’s mother—was a menace. If trouble had a face, it’d be hers, complete with that overpainted lipstick and overly tight wrapper. She was more trouble than I was on a bad day—and that was saying something. The market men and women avoided her like a plague-infested rat, and apparently, with no one else to terrorize, she had chosen my meek, gentle mother as her next victim.My mother.Sweet, quiet, gentle Mama—who could barely swat a fly, let alone defend herself against that hurricane of a woman. And this was the part where Edwina Danielle Jonas lost all sens