Chapter 12: A Taste of Sweetness

Hillary, who had been absent for the past few days, finally joined them for dinner. As he took his seat, his attention landed on Julienne.

"Oh? Isn't this little Azalea?" His tone carried a lighthearted ease. "How's school?"

Azalea answered politely, her voice steady. "It's good, Brother Hillary."

Theodore added attentively, "If you're missing anything, just let me know."

The family sat together in perfect harmony, a scene that would surely please their grandfather. Carefully crafted conversations flowed smoothly.

No one cared to spare a glance at the empty chair that remained without its master.

Once dessert was served, a delicate peach cake was placed in front of Liliana. It had been presented as a thoughtful gesture—her favorite...

She lifted her fork, taking a small bite of the cake. The soft sweetness melted on her tongue, and her lips curved into a fond smile. "Thank you, Grandmother. You always remember what I like."

The old matriarch's expression warmed, pleased by the appreciation. "Of course, child. Eat more."

As dinner came to an end, Liliana turned to Azalea. "You should rest early. Tomorrow, we'll visit Mother."

Azalea nodded. She only watched as Liliana walked ahead, her small hands gripping the fabric of her dress.

She wanted to say something but the words never left her lips as Liliana disappeared down the hall.

Once inside her room, Liliana barely made it to the bed before sinking onto the floor. Resting her arms on the mattress, she exhaled.

The nausea crawled up her throat, pressing against her chest with no outlet.

Day by day, her limit inched closer.

The ceiling above felt distant, unreachable. Liliana stared at it blankly, as if it held the answer to the question gnawing at her mind.

A butterfly with broken wings.

The voices in her head slithered in, whispering through the cracks of her thoughts, clouding her vision.

How long?

How long are you going to stay? How long are you going to live like this?

Break free.

The words clawed at her, urging, demanding—until she opened her eyes. 

Morning came, and like always, the shadows in her mind receded.

The sky stretched endlessly above, pale and cloudless. The wind carried the sweet scent of wisteria, weaving through the leaves, mingling with the earthy freshness of the estate's secluded garden. Liliana sat on the stone bench in the garden. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting shifting patterns on the grass.

The soft creak of wheels rolled over the grassy soil.

With a sun hat perched on her head, Azalea crouched ahead, her fingers skillfully twisting the freshly picked flowers into a wreath. Wisps of dark hair peeked from beneath her hat, swaying slightly as she concentrated on her task. When she finished, she held it up with a triumphant grin, her delicate features glowing under the sun.

"Look!" She beamed. "Isn't it pretty?"

"Sister! It's for you," Azalea declared, placing the wreath atop Liliana's head like a coronation. "There! Now you're a princess."

Liliana chuckled, her fingers grazing the flowers. "Aren't I already?"

Their mother sat nearby, reclined in her wheelchair, gazing at them in the dappled sunlight. A rare peaceful day, If she could, she would have frozen this moment and lived in it forever.

Azalea was bright and carefree like always. She laughed easily, played the fool when needed—she had perfected the art of joy, keeping the air around her light, as if unaware of the heavy silence that often loomed in the mansion.

She was protected.

But she wasn't blind.

Her gaze drifted toward the frail woman basking in the sun on the balcony—a shell of someone who once had a place in this house. Theodore's wife, her presence is barely acknowledged in this household.

Their second sister-in-law—discarded like an old, tattered rag. Her once elegant frame was now draped in loose and pale fabric. Sickly, abandoned, wasting away under the weight of being useless in this household.

Their mother followed her line of sight. let out a quiet sigh, a mixture of pity and resignation. "Poor girl..."

Liliana smiled, an empty sort of amusement in her eyes.

Sympathy? They had no right to offer it.

The wind stirred the wisteria, its presence lingering even as the moment passed

---

Liliana carried in a tray of water as Azalea gently tucked their mother into bed. Without a word, they tidied the room, placing their mother's most-used items within easy reach before slipping out.

The night air was crisp, carrying a gentle breeze that swept away the lingering fatigue.

As they walked back, Liliana glanced at Azalea, realizing how much she had grown—her once-small frame now nearly reaching her chin.

Azalea, sensing the gaze, turned and tilted her head with a questioning look.

Liliana ruffled her hair, a small, rare smile tugging at her lips. "You're growing up too fast."

Azalea straightened her back, lifting her chin with a proud grin. "I'm already fifteen."

Liliana chuckled. "Oh? And here I thought you were still the little girl crying over lost candy."

"Hey! That was years ago!" Azalea huffed, pouting in protest.

Their lighthearted banter lingered as they returned to the mansion. After parting ways in the hallway, Liliana continued toward her wing, something made her pause.

A faint sound—almost imperceptible—drifted from the third floor. Those echoes barely reached her, but they were enough.

Her fingers stiffened at her sides, but she did not look back.

She had long escaped from there. She had no intention of returning.

Because she already knew what lurked behind those doors.

That was where the Hill family buried their demons.

The memories buried within remained a constant reminder–cold and sharp.

But she did learn something.

If you can't fight the monsters, learn to wear their skin.

Sometimes, the more you try to avoid something, the closer it creeps toward you.

Without another glance, she walked away. But the feeling in her chest told her one thing—no matter how much distance she put between herself and this lair, it would always find a way to call her back.