"Darling… I want you to accompany me to the ceremony today."
His voice was soft, yet commanding without asking. I lifted my eyes from my book, my heart still heavy with sleep, and saw him in the hall lit by flickering torches. His black tunic, embroidered with gold, caught the flames' light. Every gesture radiated mastery and discipline. I could only admire him, captivated by his presence.
"You know I hate these ceremonies…" I whispered, my voice trembling.My hands gripping the book tightly.
He smiled, a smile that could calm storms. "This time, you must come. I want you to see who I am in the world… not just at home."
His eyes shone with a rare light, and for a moment, I had the illusion that everything would be fine. My heart beat fast, a mix of fear and admiration.
We prepared in silence. He adjusted his belt, slipped on a leather glove, checked his breastplate, and fixed his cape. Every movement seemed ritualistic. I watched him, mesmerized, a burning pride swelling in my chest. My husband… so upright, so perfect, and the world seemed less cruel in his presence.
On the way to the grand square, the city awoke under a reddish sky. Carriages, criers, guards everything testified to order and power. But my mind saw only him. The crowd bowed to his rank, each smile he returned promising protection and authority.
The square breathed grandeur. Rows of nobles and soldiers, gleaming armor, banners fluttering in the wind. He squeezed my hand, and I felt his calm flow through me. For a moment, I forgot everything except him.
When his name was called, the crowd erupted in cheers. He advanced, every step precise and measured. My heart clenched: the world seemed to stop for him. He lifted his head, saluted, reaching each spectator with his gaze. I felt proud, impressed, and terrified by his perfection.
He spoke, his voice clear, carrying above the square. "May peace guide our choices, and justice watch over our empire. Today, we do not celebrate only glory, but the responsibility each of us carries."
Every word vibrated with conviction. I felt hypnotized, believing that no shadow could ever reach him.
Then, an explosion. Brief. Violent. The ground shook, screams tore through the air, black smoke rose. My body froze. My eyes searched for his… and I saw his breastplate stained with blood. Perfection had collapsed in an instant.
He staggered, standing, noble to his last breath. I rushed toward him, but chaos erupted around us. Soldiers shielded the crowd, civilians fell or fled. His body lay still, his face marked by pain… I would never forget.
He tried to speak, no sound came out. His eyes met mine, betrayal and confusion. Then he fell, silent, and I screamed his name, but my voice was lost. The world had become cruel, and there was no one to save him.
The crowd scattered, guards checked his body and shouted, "He is dead."
I stood frozen, unable to move, watching his body being carried away. Some guards escorted me home, and I felt empty inside. His agonized face haunted me. Every breath reminded me that he might be gone forever.
Back at the mansion, the walls felt oppressive. Every memory struck like a knife. I fell to my knees in the hall, hands trembling. Everything we had built seemed suspended, fragile, ready to break. My body was here, but my mind had gone with him.
Hours passed like centuries. Guards blocked the doors: "Until we find the culprit… you cannot leave." The pain crushed me. I recalled every gesture, every exchanged smile. The emptiness settled, deep and eternal.
The silence of the house drove me mad. Every creak sounded like his voice, every shadow his silhouette. Sometimes I whispered, hoping he would hear me, even though I knew it was impossible. The walls returned his echoes like cruel ghosts.
An officer entered, a close friend of my husband, behind him the body of the man I loved. I approached, tears flowing. His face was frozen in time, void of any smile.
Two days later, the day of the funeral. The city seemed to hold its breath. Citizens and guards formed a respectful line. Torches swayed under the cold wind. My heart beat so hard I feared it still echoed in my chest.
I walked behind the funeral carriage, each step an immense effort. The carriage stopped by the grave. The coffin lay, draped in a dark cloth, simple and solemn. White and red flowers formed a fragile final tribute. I wanted to run to him, to touch him, to bring him back, but I could do nothing.
The priests began their solemn words. I heard nothing, my mind focused on him. Each word rang like a cruel reminder: he was no longer here.
I fell to my knees before the coffin, placing my hands on it. Tears flowed freely. I wanted to scream, to rage against injustice, but no sound came. Only silent sobs. Every shovelful of earth on the coffin pierced my heart.
The crowd gradually dispersed. I remained kneeling, pressing my cheek to the grave. The wind carried away my tears. My husband was gone. All I could do was say goodbye.
In the following days, I wandered among his belongings, smelling his scent on fabrics. Nothing had changed for him, but everything had changed for me. The house was silent, cold, returning every instant of his laughter, words, and smiles.
I sat by his chair, placing my hand on the marks of his presence. Memories burned, but I could not banish them. Every object became a cruel reminder of what I had lost. My mind desperately sought traces of life.
Days passed, yet I ate little, slept not at all. My body survived, but my soul remained with him. Pain lingered, constant and relentless. I felt empty, powerless, lost in a world without meaning.
I rose, trembling, heart burning with hatred and grief. The body of the man I loved lay in my memory, every detail etched. The world continued, indifferent. Everything had stopped for me. Only silence and emptiness remained.
I remembered his words, gestures, his gaze. He had always calmed storms. Now he was gone. The world felt heavier, crueler, more unjust. No law, no power, no magic could reverse it.
My hands still shook as I touched his letters, his belongings. Every word reminded me he would never return. Hours stretched as I clung to these fragments like a lifeline in an ocean of despair.
I spent my days pacing the house, each room a reminder of what had been. His laughter still echoed in the walls, his gestures suspended in the air. I let myself be consumed by pain, memory, and loneliness. The world existed, but I no longer participated in it.
I had just lost my only family, the man who had loved me tenderly even though I was nothing in this world. Today, he was gone. I was left empty, alone in the world.