When Ashelia heard the soft click of the door closing behind her, the tears she had desperately been holding back started to flow uncontrollably.
The tear streaks stained her porcelain cheeks and she wiped them away furiously. But no matter how many times she cleaned them, they kept coming and no matter how many times she swallowed, the bile in her throat refused to go away.
In minutes, she found herself sitting on the floor silently crying her eyes out. She wrapped her arms around her knees, holding them close to her chest.
Why was she even crying so much? She couldn't even understand. But today felt too similar to the countless years she had spent locked up in the manor.
No servant seemed to want to talk to her at that time because of her status and how she looked. Even the mages among them who could sense her mana, avoided her as if she were a plague.
The only person who was close to her, but was never really a friend, was her maid, Lyra.
