A Butterfly Through the Mist - Chapter 89

At first, she simply could not believe he had changed.

She couldn’t accept that a love so passionate, a love so firm it had forced her to acknowledge it, had suddenly extinguished like a candle.

The shock that crushed her chest was as great as, if not greater than, the one she felt when she realized Ilex’s love too late.

Was I too late to realize it?

Even for him, it must have been hard to keep loving a woman who only ever pushed him away.

I should have stopped denying it. I should’ve just pretended not to notice and let it be. I should’ve told him, even just once, that I didn’t hate him as much as he thought.

No, I never should’ve sent that letter in the first place. There are men in the world who lose interest just from thinking they’ve got something. Maybe he was the kind who only liked women who wouldn’t return his feelings.

Then let’s go back and say that letter wasn’t really from me. Let’s lie and say I still hate him…

The moment she found herself mumbling like that, looking up train tickets—Tilia sank to the floor and wept for a long time. And as soon as she came to her senses, she hastily began packing her things.

She had to move.

She simply couldn’t go on living in the house he had chosen, the beautiful house with the garden he had picked out for her.

That place was saturated with Ilex Davenport.

Even the long shadows under the unusually numerous streetlamps felt like his, and her heart would leap before her thoughts could catch up.

Just looking out the window, she’d think she saw his silhouette pass by. And the snacks they used to share, lined up in the local grocery store, would stir up unbearable longing.

And so she had no choice but to move, even if it meant stretching her budget thin. It was such a pathetic decision that her younger self would’ve mocked her for being spoiled—but she couldn’t help it.

Had she stayed there, she would’ve ended up returning to Arkansis, unable to resist the urge to beg for his love.

She couldn’t bear to watch herself fall apart that completely.

The place she managed to secure with the money she had saved was so shabby it couldn’t even be compared to the house he had chosen for her. In fact, next to that mansion, this new place was barely more than a room.

Yet when she lay on that narrow bed, Tilia couldn’t deny the strange comfort she felt.

It felt like she had finally returned to a place that suited her. Like she had wandered for ages and at last come home. Deep in her bones, the familiar chill of loneliness seeped in.

Yes, this is where I belong. This damp, cold sheet—that’s what fits me.

But even as she thought that, she kept murmuring in a hollow voice, unable to let go of her longing.

No… Ilex Davenport loved me. I’m sure of it. He loved me passionately, more devotedly than anyone else. How could it disappear like that, all at once…

Biting her nails until they bled, Tilia was trapped in the past, repeating that one sentence over and over—until suddenly, like waking from a dream, her eyes took in the scene before her.

The late spring flowers bloomed in full as if they knew nothing of the cold. Their radiant beauty sparkled as though it were a luxury granted by God with a promise of eternity.

But one didn’t even have to wait until winter.

One season—just a few cycles of day and night—and the blossoms before her would vanish as if they’d never been.

As if they had never bloomed so brightly.

As if they had never been the centerpiece of spring.

So futile.

Maybe his love had been the same.

It wasn’t that she meant to deny the way his affection had gleamed like a pearl, or to tarnish the fullness of what he had poured into her.

She simply acknowledged that such things could fade.

Yes, nothing in this world lasts forever. The only unchanging truth is that nothing stays the same.

As she accepted this truth—a truth she had resisted for so long—Tilia gazed at the flowers that would bloom and wither in the span of a single season.

Now she could finally admit it.

During those desperate, miserable days at the academy, even as she pretended not to care, she had longed for love.

She had searched endlessly for someone who would understand and comfort her poor, hungry heart.

Maybe that’s why she had quietly left the door open for him.

Because she was lonely.

Because she wanted to believe in someone.

Because, more than anything, she wanted to love.

She couldn’t say for sure, but she believed that, in some way, he had felt the same.

He, too, had wandered in search of someone to love for a long, long time.

And through coincidence upon coincidence, they had become that intense fate for each other.

It was only after taking a step back from the urge to cling to him that she could finally see it all.

To her, it had been a precious emotion that could never be blurred, a love unparalleled and incomparable to anything else. But in truth, when viewed from a distance, it was just another story among many.

Like the beautiful flowers blooming before her eyes now. So radiant it seemed nothing could be more dazzling, yet, like those blossoms that wither and bloom again each year.

Still, if left undisturbed, that feeling might have lingered quite a while. What reason, then, did it have to suddenly wither away so abruptly?

Perhaps after putting her on the train, he had been harshly scolded by the Duke. Perhaps he was even on the verge of being disowned by his family.

No—that was merely the misfortune she hoped for. Perhaps Ilex had simply found closure after sending her off, after she disappeared from view.

Because the human heart is that fickle. A blaze hot enough to scorch can also vanish in an instant.

Human nature does not easily change. Tilia Ambrose was someone who valued a perspective not swayed by emotion, and he remained the same even before the feelings that had made her cry for so long.

Perhaps Ilex had been quicker to acknowledge the end of their love and left in search of someone new.

Once he shed the emotions that had clouded his vision, reality must have revealed itself in a different light. He, too, must have wanted to choose a partner who suited him.

Someone like Cecilia Clayton, for example. That must’ve been the type he wished to choose.

‘No wonder. She’s always had that obnoxious air about her.’

Tilia let out a bitter laugh as she recalled Cecilia Clayton’s infuriating face, which had inexplicably lingered in her mind.

If she followed her heart, she would’ve made a voodoo doll and stabbed its heart—but buying ice cream with that money felt like a better deal, so she held back.

No, truthfully, she held back because she didn’t want to sink that low.

…More honestly, it was because, foolishly, she found herself wishing that he might be a little happy.

Because Ilex Davenport was the one who had seen her emptiness and filled it completely. The one who cast gentle sunlight and warm rain upon her long-parched heart, coaxing it into bloom.

So she wished, earnestly, that he would be happy.

Did he know? That she still liked him this much?

Of course, reaching such generosity hadn’t come easily. It had taken a long time, and she had suffered a great deal. But three years had helped her.

The fact that she was in Ontaroa, not Arkansis, and that she had endured a difficult period of adjustment, had all been helpful.

Truthfully, Tilia had gone through quite the rough initiation at work. All because she, not knowing her place, had the audacity to use the speech of royalty.

When she first realized the reason for her ostracism, it had struck her as almost laughable.

But like the way she had first learned to hold a pen, the speech style ingrained in her by her mentor wasn’t something she could easily shake off.

Yet there is nothing that time cannot overcome. Through painstaking effort, Tilia eventually shed the royal manner of speaking. And at last, she accepted her breakup with him.

Last night, though she had tossed and turned on her bed because he appeared out of nowhere in her dreams—she had still improved enough that, even when his name suddenly came up, she could maintain a blank expression.

Even if she occasionally found herself dwelling on things in a pathetic way—wasn’t that still okay?

Tilia looked at the vividly colored flowers radiating their seductive beauty under the bright sunlight and thought:

Though unlike those blooms, her first love had met a forever winter. Though she might never again see a scene of bursting vitality where all the hidden seeds within her sprouted at once.

Still, couldn’t she revisit the spring that once came to her? Remembering the warmth of sunlight and the fragrance of moist blossoms—isn’t that the quiet freedom of someone who resides in winter?

A familiar breeze, blowing in from the vast gardens beyond, rustled through Tilia’s hair and lifted her skirt hem before drifting away.

Tilia turned her gaze from the flamboyant garden that knew no worries and straightened her head.

It was at that very moment.

The man she had seen in her dream last night appeared before her eyes.

“…Ilex Davenport.”

With a face that seemed to have returned to peaceful slumber, Tilia looked at him—standing in a space that was neither in shadow nor in light.