His Presence In Her Room

  Adolphus stood by the edge of Seraphina’s bed, his eyes softening as he watched her sleep. 

  

  The moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over her face, illuminating the delicate features he had come to cherish more than he could admit. 

  

  Her long lashes fluttered slightly, and her lips parted in a quiet sigh, drawing him closer with an invisible force.

  

  He missed her, missed the way she used to look at him before everything fell apart. 

  

  Before the betrayal, before the bloodshed. But he knew she needed space, a chance to process the devastation he had brought into her life. It was the least he could offer her now. 

  

  So he stayed at a distance, even when all he wanted was to hold her close and beg for a forgiveness he knew he didn’t deserve.

  

  Adolphus couldn’t resist any longer. 

  

  He reached out, his large hand gently brushing against her cheek, the warmth of her skin a stark contrast to the coldness that had settled in his chest since the night of the massacre. 

  

  His thumb traced the curve of her jaw, a touch so light it was almost a ghost of affection, as if he were afraid she might shatter under his fingers. 

  

  The softness of her skin sent a pang through him—a reminder of what he had lost, what he had destroyed.

  

  Suddenly, Seraphina sighed in her sleep and her hand instinctively reached out, grasping his arm. Adolphus froze, his eyes widening in shock. 

  

  For a brief moment, her touch sent a surge of warmth through him, an echo of the connection they once shared. 

  

  But reality crashed down just as quickly. If she woke up and found him there, so close, she would be furious. 

  

  And he couldn’t bear to see her eyes filled with hate, not again. 

  

  He preferred the cold indifference she showed him now to the burning anger that had once consumed her gaze.

  

  With a conflicted heart, Adolphus leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. 

  

  The gesture was fleeting, almost like a goodbye. He carefully untangled their limbs, moving slowly so as not to disturb her. 

  

  Her grip on his arm loosened as he gently pulled away, and he watched her face relax back into peaceful slumber. 

  

  The absence of his warmth seemed to stir her, and she shifted slightly, but she didn’t wake.

  

  Adolphus stood there for a moment longer, torn between staying and leaving. 

  

  But he knew he had to go. 

  

  He silently backed away, his heart heavy with the weight of everything left unsaid, and slipped out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

  

  As soon as he was gone, Seraphina’s eyes fluttered open, a sense of loss washing over her. She stared at the empty space beside her, knowing he had been there. 

  

  His presence lingered in the air, in the warmth that still clung to her skin where he had touched her. 

  

  She missed him—missed the man she had fallen in love with before everything changed.

  

  But how could she reconcile that man with the one who had brought ruin to her family? 

  

  She wished he would just speak to her, explain himself, even lie if he had to, anything to make sense of the nightmare her life had become. But she knew that wouldn’t happen. 

  

  This was her reality now—her parents were gone, killed by the very man she had once adored.

  

  The realization hit her like a wave, and she felt the tears welling up in her eyes. 

  

  They spilled over, silent sobs wracking her body as she clutched the blankets to her chest. 

  

  She cried softly, mourning the loss of her family, her past, and the future she would never have. 

  

  Eventually, exhaustion took over, and she fell back into a restless sleep, the traces of her tears still wet on her cheeks.

  

  ##############

  

  Morning crept in with a golden hue spilling through the cracks of the shutters, but for Seraphina, it felt like a cruel joke. 

  She opened her eyes to a pounding headache, her swollen eyelids a testament to the restless night she’d endured. 

  Irritation prickled at her like an unwelcome companion, and she groaned softly as she stretched out on the bed, unwilling to face the day.

  Her thoughts wandered, flitting from one idea to the next as she tried to motivate herself. 

  Maybe a cool bath would help, she mused, imagining the crisp water washing away her exhaustion and frustration. 

  That alone was tempting enough to consider getting out of bed.

  Her mind quickly shifted to the possibility of occupying herself with something meaningful. 

  What could I even do here? she thought with a scowl, her brows furrowing.

  She considered the villagers’ plain, utilitarian clothing and smirked faintly to herself. 

  Perhaps I could design better dresses for them. 

  Something with some actual flair, rather than these dreary scraps they call clothes. 

  It wasn’t as though she didn’t have the eye for it.

  Then her thoughts turned to her old life, her old skills. 

  If only they had guns here… she thought wistfully. But they weren't the hunters, they were the hunted.

  She remembered how sharp her aim was, how steady her hands could be under pressure. 

  But here, there was nothing like that—just old traditions, brutal strength, and a simplicity that grated on her nerves.

  Maybe she could find a way to train herself, to keep her body sharp and her mind focused. 

  Yet even that thought wasn’t enough to drag her out of bed. 

  Her muscles felt heavy, her resolve weaker than it had been the night before.

  She sighed deeply, running a hand through her tangled hair. What a day already, she thought bitterly, staring up at the ceiling.

  For a moment, she entertained the idea of simply staying in bed all day, letting the hours pass in solitude. 

  But the relentless ache in her body wouldn’t let her. 

  She needed to do something—anything—or the irritation would swallow her whole.

  With another sigh, Seraphina forced herself to sit up, rubbing at her temples. 

  One step at a time, she told herself. Start with the bath.