Shouting erupted from the front of the manor.
Voices—raised, frantic. Some angry. Some afraid.
Yasmin and I ran toward the noise.
A crowd had gathered.
And in the center of it—
A woman knelt in the mud.
Beaten. Bruised. Her clothes were torn. Hair tangled.
She lifted her head slowly, her hands trembling as she stared down at the dirt caked into her palms.
Then her eyes scanned the crowd—
And locked on mine.
Wide. Disbelieving. Hollow.
"Cassian?…" she whispered.
"No. This is impossible."
Why is she here?
How is she still alive?
Before I could speak, she lunged at me—mud splashing under her knees as she clawed at my back like she could drag herself into another life.
"Where's Luca, Cassian?!" she screamed in English, her voice cracked and wild. "Is he with you? Please—please tell me he is!"
She looked like a ghost. A nightmare. But her voice was real—and it shattered me.
I hesitated.
"Metania… he's gone."
It felt like swallowing glass.
But she needed to know. Needed something—anything—to bury.
"Cassian, who is this?" Yasmin asked beside me, bewildered.
Before I could answer, the murmurs began.
Whispers. Spitting. Bile.
"Metania…" someone growled.
"It's her."
"The disgrace returns."
Two older men surged forward and ripped her off me.
"No—no! Give me my child!" she screamed, kicking, twisting, trying to break free.
Then came the first boot.
And then another.
One to her back.
One to her face.
Again. Again.
"Stop it!" I yelled, pushing at them, slamming fists into torsos and shoulders.
But I couldn't move them.
I couldn't stop them.
Just like with Luca.
I stumbled back, useless.
Then the manor doors creaked open. The lord stepped out, tall and unimpressed.
"Bring her to my office!" he barked.
Two men obeyed, dragging her limp and sobbing through the doors.
I ran after them without thinking—Yasmin chasing close behind.
They slammed the door.
I curled against the wall outside, my chest hollow.
Yasmin sat beside me and placed her head on my shoulder, her fingers curling around mine.
Neither of us spoke. We didn't have to.
Metania's muffled screams said it all.
Fists thudding.
Wooden chair creaking.
Tears choking on words.
She was being beaten like a stray dog.
I wanted to cover my ears.
But I didn't.
She shouldn't be alone in this, even if she never knew I stayed.
After what felt like hours, the door flung open.
They dragged her out—arms limp, lip bleeding, her face swelling with every breath.
They tossed her like garbage down the steps to the cellar. She tumbled and hit the ground with a wet smack.
I rushed forward, my chest aching with something I didn't understand.
I don't know why I cared so much.
She wasn't my mother.
She didn't treat me like a son.
But I knew her.
She needed someone.
Just like I had.
But as I stood in the doorway, looking down the stairs at Metania, all I could think was: what can I do to be useful?
But nothing came to mind.
I just stood there—like I always do—watching her weep and curl up.
I couldn't take it.
It reminded me too much of myself.
The uselessness.
I turned away, still with Yasmin close behind.
She looked confused.
I could hear her thoughts.
Why did I care?
What was my relationship with her?
But I decided—if I acted like I didn't know Metania, maybe the others would forget.
Forget the short time I spoke to her this morning.
Forget that I had anything to do with whatever she did to make them all so furious.
"Cass, how do you know her? And how does she know you?" Yasmin asked, still following me outside the manor.
I stopped, but I couldn't speak.
One wrong word, and my simple life here could shatter.
Worse—Yasmin and Noura might come to hate me.
So I kept walking, ignoring the question.
My task list was full for the day. I did everything without speaking.
Noura and Yasmin tried to get my attention—even just a smile—but it was no use.
Too much was on my mind.
The day flew by.
My thoughts clouded everything but my mundane tasks.
Night came quickly.
I followed everyone else down to the cellar, avoiding the two girls I'd grown close to.
As we crowded in, I saw Metania curled up in the corner, away from everyone else.
She stared at me.
I looked away. Quickly.
I regret it—but it had to be done.
Just looking at her brought back cold memories.
Memories I wish I never had.
I laid down.
It felt like hours passed.
My eyes were closed, but sleep never came.
My thoughts ran wild. Nothing could quench them.
I turned over—and saw her.
She was staring at me.
But not like a ghost.
She looked like someone who regretted many things too.
Her eyes were blackened, but they wept down.
For some reason… She looked relaxed.
Maybe because she could look at a familiar face.
Maybe one that didn't hate her.
But do I hate her?
I don't know.
Like many things.
I stood up quietly and walked toward her.
She was just as helpless as I was—
which made us one and the same.
I sat beside her.
Her hands reached toward my face.
I let her.
"Cassian…" she whispered, tearing up. "Please don't leave me."
What am I supposed to say?
What does she mean?
"Cassian…" Her tears finally slowed. "No matter what, I won't let anyone hurt you—my sweet boy."
What?
Is she hallucinating?
I'm not Luca. I'll never be.
"Don't say that, Metania. You're not my mother—and you never will be."
I pushed her away, angry at the thought she'd ever try to replace Luca.
To replace him. To replace her feelings and mine.
Just speaking to her reminds me of the pain I witnessed.
But why do I feel so much conflict within me?
Do I feel regret?
I do regret everything that has happened…
But nothing I do can change anything in the present, past, or future.
All I can do is shield others from the pain and sights I've witnessed.
But isn't that contradicting what I just did?
I pushed her away—
a woman, I regret to say, who took me in at my time of need.
Now she needs the same thing.
Someone who doesn't treat her like she's the bane of their existence.
And in the end… maybe I too will heal.
As she stared at me—hurting—I hugged her.
A hug different from Yasmin's.
A hug born of shared grief and trauma, not pity.