A Walk Through the Garden

The gardens of Vosswell Manor were serene in the warm evening air. The faint scent of lavender and magnolia filled the space as dusk filtered through the manicured hedges and flower beds. Delphia walked beside Zypher, her arm hooked around his. The world around them seemed to fall away, leaving only the crunch of stones beneath their feet and the occasional rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze.

They walked in silence at first, neither feeling the need to fill the air with unnecessary words. It wasn't until they reached the edge of a small koi pond, where the warm light shimmered on the water's surface, that Delphia stopped and let out a soft sigh, standing shoulder to shoulder with Zypher.

"There's something I haven't told you fully," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She stared at the pond, her reflection rippling in the water, and then turned to face him. Zypher's maroon eyes softened, his gaze steady and patient as he also turned to face her fully. "You can tell me anything, Delphie."

She hesitated, her fingers brushing over the hem of her sleeve. "Well, you already know I'm… not really Delphia," she began, her voice faltering slightly. "I woke up in her body, but before that, I was someone else. My name was Dyana."

Zypher's expression didn't shift, though his brows raised slightly in acknowledgment. "Dyana," he repeated, testing the name. "I think it's a lovely name."

Delphia let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "I never thought so. People would always shorten it to 'Dy,' and it sounded like they were telling me to… well, die. Every time I heard it, it felt like a cruel little joke." She paused, her gaze distant as she looked past him over his shoulder. "Maybe it was fitting, though. I spent most of my life feeling like I didn't matter. Which is why I easily took 'Delphia's' name as my own."

Zypher remained silent, giving her the space to continue. His presence in front of her was grounding, his right hand brushing her left as if to remind her that he was there.

"My parents," she began again, her voice trembling slightly, "they weren't like most parents. They were addicts—completely lost to their own vices. They couldn't take care of me, so I ended up being passed around between relatives. An aunt here, a grandparent there… but no matter where I went, I always felt like an inconvenience. Like I was just a burden no one really wanted."

She stopped, her breath catching as the memories surfaced. "I used to think that if I worked hard enough, if I proved I was worth something, they'd finally see me as important. But no matter how well I did in any school, no matter how many awards or scholarships I got, it was never enough. I wasn't enough."

Zypher's jaw tightened slightly, but he didn't interrupt. He simply switched to hold her hand, a silent gesture of support.

"And relationships?" Delphia let out a dry laugh, the sound tinged with bitterness.

"Those were a joke. I thought that maybe if I could find someone to love me, it would fill that void. But people didn't love me for me. They loved what I could offer—my brain, my problem-solving skills. I was always just the 'smart girl,'the one they'd call when they needed help with something, but never the one they'd actually… care about."

She paused, her right-hand fingers absentmindedly flicking the hem of her sleeve as if grounding herself.

"I think I stopped believing in the idea of love a long time ago. I stopped believing that anyone could truly see me for who I was, much less care." Her voice grew softer, barely above a whisper. "The last time I thought I'd found something real, it ended with me… well, dead." She let out a bitter laugh, though it lacked any real humor. "It's pathetic, really. It was my coworker, Thomas. He was charming in that way that made you feel special, like you were the only one in the room he saw. I thought maybe—just maybe—this time would be different. But it wasn't."

Her gaze dropped to the ground, her hand tightening into a fist by her side while the other gripped Zypher's hand tighter.

"Thomas didn't like me. He used me. He pretended to care, but all he really wanted were my insights—the research and theories we had been working on for months. I thought we were collaborating, that we were equals preparing for a joint presentation to The Board. But, afterward, when the time came, I realized I had been nothing more than his stepping stone."

Her breath hitched, and she swallowed hard. "I decided in that moment to express my feelings for him and he shut me down immediately; Saying that he 'didn't know' I felt that way, and that he wanted things to stay as is for the presentation and after that. Of course, I expected something like that to happen deep down, so while I wasn't outwardly upset, inside I was in such a spiral."

She took a slow, steadying breath, but the sting of those words still felt fresh even though they happened all those months ago.

"I made my way back to the parking lot with my chin held high and only broke when I got to my car. It had started to storm sometime that evening and by the time I got outside, it was a downpour. I wasn't thinking straight. I got in my car and drove through the rain, barely able to see the road through my own anger and misery. And then—"

Her fingers twitched. "I hit a patch of water; I hydroplaned. There was a truck coming from the opposite lane."

A pause. Then, her voice broke into something hollow.

"I remember the moment of impact. The sickening crunch of metal. The weightlessness as my car tilted. And the pain—just for a second, before everything faded." Her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes unfocused. "And in those final moments, all I could think about was how stupid I had been. How I had let myself believe, once again, that I mattered to someone. That I wasn't just useful, but wanted."

She let out a slow breath. "And then I woke up here. In Delphia's body, in a world where love isn't just a joke—it's a weapon. A tool people wield to get what they want." She exhaled again, shaking her head as if to dispel the lingering weight of the memory. "Sometimes, I wonder if this is a cruel trick for being foolish enough to believe in it at all."

Zypher moved and grabbed both of Delphia's hands, making sure that she was looking into his eyes, his voice low and steady when he finally spoke.

"You were surrounded by people who didn't deserve you, Dyana." His grip tightened to emphasize his point. "They couldn't see your worth because they were too blind—too wrapped up in their own shortcomings. But their failure doesn't define you."

She blinked up at him, small tears escaping the corners of her gold eyes, her heart tightening at the sincerity in his voice. "And for what it's worth," he continued, his maroon eyes locking onto hers, "I see you. All of you. You're not just a brilliant mind or a powerful mage. You're someone who has faced more than most could ever handle, and you've come out of it stronger. You're extraordinary, Delphia."

Her chest ached at his words, the raw emotion in his tone cutting through the walls she'd built around herself. "You don't have to say that," she whispered, trying to look away. "I'm not looking for pity." It was old habits rearing their ugly heads.

"This isn't pity," Zypher said firmly, his voice unwavering, reclaiming her attention fully as his hands slid up to hold her arms in his grip. "This is me telling you the truth. I've spent most of my life keeping people at arm's length, trusting no one, letting no one in. But you? You've changed that. You've shown me what it means to have someone to rely on, someone to trust."

His fingers brushed her cheek, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "You've given me something I never thought I'd have—a partner. Someone I don't just 'care about,' but respect. And that's not something I take lightly."

Delphia's vision blurred, her eyes filling with tears. She bit her lip, trying to hold back the flood of emotion threatening to overwhelm her. "Zypher…" She whispered, her voice trembling.

He stepped closer, his hands coming to rest gently on her shoulders, squeezing them slightly. "You don't have to be afraid anymore," he said softly. "Not of your past; Not of your future. Whatever comes, we'll face it together." She let out a shaky breath, her tears spilling over as she nodded. "Thank you," she managed, her voice breaking. "I don't know what I'd do without you. I feel so much love from you, Zy." It was a tear-stained smile, but a smile full of genuine love for this man.

Zypher's lips curved into a faint smile of his own as he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead and pulling her into his chest. "You don't have to find out," he murmured, hugging her strongly. "I'm not going anywhere."

They stood there for a long moment, the garden around them quiet and still, as if the world itself had paused to give them this moment of peace. And for the first time in years, perhaps in lifetimes, Delphia felt truly seen, truly valued.

As they turned to continue their walk, hand in hand, Delphia realized that the walls she had built around her heart were crumbling fully. And with Zypher by her side, she wasn't afraid of what lay ahead.

As they walked in silence back toward the gravel path, the faint hush of the koi pond behind them, Delphia found herself unwilling to let go of his hand. Her fingers remained laced tightly with his, reluctant to break the connection even as the manor's gates and his waiting carriage came into view ahead.

The amber glow of the carriage lamps flickered in the growing dusk, casting soft halos over the cobbled path. His driver stood at respectful attention; Zypher didn't have much with him since he was the one to pick her up from the Academy, effectively sending her own carriage home first.

Delphia's steps slowed as they neared, her thumb brushing absent-minded circles over the back of Zypher's hand. Her heart ached at the thought of him leaving—especially now, after everything she had said, after everything he had given her in return. She'd laid herself bare, and instead of recoiling, he had embraced her fully. The thought of parting, even temporarily, felt heavier than she expected.

Zypher seemed to sense her hesitation. He paused at the edge of the path, just a few paces from the carriage, and turned to her again.

"I won't be gone long," he said gently, his voice low, as though trying not to break the quiet that still lingered around them.

"I know," Delphia replied, but her voice caught anyway. "It just… feels different now."

He reached up to tuck another strand of her hair behind her ear, his knuckles brushing softly against her cheek. "Because you let me see your heart," he said, almost reverently.

Delphia gave a small nod, lips pressing into a faint smile. "I didn't plan to. Not tonight. But with you… it just felt right."

"It was," he said simply.

Another moment passed, and then Zypher pulled her in once more—closer this time, his arms encircling her as though he didn't want to let go either. She buried her face in his shoulder, inhaling the familiar, comforting scent of his coat, the warmth of his embrace wrapping around her like a shield.

"After we're married," she whispered, "let's go somewhere. Just you and me. No politics, no strategies, no masks. Just… us."

His breath ghosted near her ear as he murmured, "Anywhere you want."

They lingered like that for a while—just the two of them beneath the deepening evening sky, the air laced with flowers and farewells.

When he finally pulled back, it was with reluctant hands and one last, slow glance down at her. He stepped toward the carriage door, but paused with one foot on the step.

"Delphia," he said over his shoulder, his voice soft but resolute.

She looked up.

"I meant what I said. You're not alone. Not anymore."

And then he was gone, the carriage door clicking shut behind him. The driver gave a signal, and the horses began their slow, steady trot down the road, hooves echoing against the stone.

Delphia stood there, watching until the lantern lights disappeared around the bend. Only when the final flicker vanished into the night did she finally let herself exhale.

Her fingers curled inward, still tingling faintly from where his hand had held hers.

And for all the heaviness in her heart… it was the first goodbye that didn't feel like abandonment.

It simply felt like the promise of return.