Regret And Sadness

The morning came with a pale gold sunrise cutting through the misty fields that surrounded the estate. Birds were already up, their chirping distant and soft under the stillness.

Adrian stepped outside, dressed in simple dark clothes—functional, no flair. His hair was still damp from the basin, and a faint line marked where his shirt clung to the back of his neck. His expression was cold, unreadable, his eyes shadowed with a kind of alertness that came from sleepless nights.

Melissa was already there, waiting near the carriage. Two tall, black horses stood hitched at the front, their breath curling into the morning air. The carriage was simple but sturdy, with steel-reinforced wheels and weathered wood stained deep brown.

Holding the reins was the same servant from the day before—the one who'd delivered the letter. He gave a small nod as Adrian approached, face as impassive as ever.

Melissa leaned casually against the side of the carriage, her coat draped over one shoulder, one leg crossed over the other.

"You're early," she said, watching him with curious eyes.

Adrian didn't reply. He climbed into the carriage without a word, his movements precise and mechanical.

Melissa stared at him a moment longer, then followed with a sigh, pulling the door closed behind them.

With a click of the reins, the horses began to move.

The carriage rolled forward into the morning haze—toward the test, toward danger, and toward whatever kind of person Adrian was slowly being carved into.

Adrian's eyes drifted to Melissa's coat as the carriage bumped gently along the dirt road. It was slung over her shoulder the same way she always wore it—like she didn't give a damn but also kind of did. The fabric was a rich, dark green with silver trim, sharp and clean against the morning light filtering through the small carriage windows. It was a pretty design, he had to admit. Elegant without being soft. Just like her.

He looked away before she could catch him staring.

The silence hung for a moment—just the quiet creak of wood, the rhythmic clop of hooves.

Then Melissa broke it, her voice calm, softer than usual. "Adrian, about yesterday…"

He didn't respond. His eyes stayed fixed on the passing blur of trees outside the window.

"If you ever need a hug," she continued, "or someone to talk to… I'm here. I know I, uh, technically kidnapped you, but that doesn't mean I don't want to help you. I don't know how hard you've lived…" She trailed off for a second, searching his profile. "But I hope someday you'll talk to me."

Adrian glanced at her. Just once. Then looked away again, his expression unreadable.

"I don't need hugs or talks," he muttered.

It was a lie. Obvious. Flat. Even he could hear how false it sounded. But it was the only armor he had left.

He'd learned too early, too young, not to trust anyone. Not strangers, not adults, not people who offered to care. That kind of trust got you abandoned. Or sold.

Hell, it got you kidnapped.

Melissa stared at him for a beat. Then sighed dramatically.

"Well… if you won't accept my hugs and talks," she said, voice lifting with that familiar mischief, "I'll just force them on you."

Before he could react, she lunged forward and practically tackled him across the carriage bench, arms wrapping around him like a damn bear trap.

"Hey—!" Adrian jerked, instantly struggling. "Stop—let go!"

He kicked at the wooden wall of the carriage, trying to push himself free, but her grip was iron. She just laughed, tightening the hug until he couldn't move.

"Nope," she said, resting her chin on top of his head. "Not until you begin trusting me."

Adrian froze under her weight, muscles still tense but no longer thrashing. His jaw tightened.

It wasn't fair—this weird way she kept breaking through his walls like it was funny. Like it wasn't dangerous to get close to someone. And yet, here she was. Holding him like she meant it.

"You're annoying," Adrian muttered, still stiff in her grip, though he'd stopped actively fighting her off.

Melissa only smirked, unbothered. "Oh, shut up. You like the hug, and you know it." She ruffled his hair with one hand, her fingers sliding through it gently, brushing the strands out of his face like he was a sleepy child she was trying to tidy up.

He flinched slightly but didn't pull away.

There was a quiet beat between them before Adrian mumbled, "Why didn't you just get your own kid to do this? I'm sure they'd be more talented than me. At least."

Melissa's hand paused.

"I…" Her voice caught slightly, not enough to be obvious, but enough to shift the air. "I don't have kids."

She forced a smile, but the corners of her mouth trembled. "Not anymore."

Adrian turned his head to look at her. "Not anymore? What do you mean—did they die?"

The question landed like a knife on a table. Sharp. Direct. No softness to it.

Melissa didn't answer right away. Instead, she raised her hand and karate chopped him on the top of the head—not hard, just enough to sting a little.

"Kid, you have no ability at reading the room," she said, voice still light but edged with something darker.

Then, her smile dimmed.

"Yes. They died. There was a plague." Her eyes didn't meet his now, instead settling on the wooden slats of the carriage wall as it rolled by. "I was off fighting in a war. Too far away. Too slow to come back. By the time I returned, they were already gone."

She exhaled through her nose, eyes narrowing as if daring herself to feel nothing. "My husband was the only one left. And even he… he left me too. Couldn't look at me without seeing what we'd lost. So that was that. Came home to a house with nothing in it but echoes."

Her tone was light—almost dismissive. But the way her hands had stopped moving, the stiffness in her jaw, and the hollow quiet in her voice all betrayed the truth.

She was trying not to sound broken. Trying so hard.

Adrian said nothing. He just stared at her, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.

"…Oh," he muttered, the tension in his body starting to shift—not softening, but… hesitating.

Melissa offered him a crooked smile. "You're not the only one carrying things, you know. So maybe don't act like being cared about is some unique kind of curse."

She tapped his chest with one finger. "You're not a replacement. You're just some brat I found with potential and a really bad attitude."

A beat passed.

"...And good hair."

Adrian looked away quickly, ears burning. "Shut up."

Melissa grinned.

Adrian leaned his head back against the wall of the carriage, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. "Then why do you still keep the pictures?" he asked, voice low but direct. "Inside the mansion. The portraits in the hall. Doesn't it hurt to look at them every day?"

Melissa was quiet for a moment.

Adrian didn't wait for her to answer before continuing, brows furrowed. "You could've told me earlier, you know. This whole time I thought… I thought there were other kids before me. Like I wasn't the first one you dragged through this hellish training."

Melissa blinked. Then she laughed, light and soft. "Oh, honey, you're definitely not the first. Or the last." She gave him a mischievous smile. "Well—maybe the last. Depends on if you can actually learn what I'm trying to teach you."

He glared at her. "That's not funny."

"Sure it is." She leaned her chin on her hand, staring out the window like she wasn't avoiding eye contact. "As for the portraits... I keep them to remind myself of the future I could've had." Her voice was casual, but her fingers were fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve. "The one I lost. I can't let myself forget them. Not for a single moment."

The words sounded light. But there was a weight to them. Like she was balancing grief on the tip of her tongue and trying not to choke on it.

Adrian shifted, uncomfortable. Not with her story—he'd heard worse. He'd lived worse. But the way she said it… the quiet conviction underneath the teasing… that was harder to deal with.

"Hmm," he muttered, pretending to adjust his jacket. "Well, that's stupid. But... you do you."

Melissa glanced at him, lips quirking just a little. "Wow. So heartfelt. Really, you should be a therapist."

"I'm gonna train you to death," Melissa said, her tone half-joking, half-dead serious. She cracked her knuckles and stretched her arms behind her back with a satisfied sigh. "Even if your talent is nonexistent, I'll mold you into someone who could fight a god on even ground."

Adrian side-eyed her, expression frozen in a mixture of dread and disbelief. "You're joking... right?" he asked, though his voice lacked conviction.

She turned to him, grinning wide. "What do you think?"

His face paled slightly.

Melissa burst into laughter at the look on his face. "Oh, you're adorable when you're scared."