Chapter 65: A Day Unlike Any Other!

Saintilia’s POV

Celebrating my birthday had not been the same without Jonas. The last celebration, and all the ones before, had been transformed into something intimate and meaningful by his insistence on organizing something special just for the two of us.

In the days leading up to the occasion, he would venture into the city to select a gift that would hold significance for me. Remarkably, his chosen gifts often centered around fabric, fine cottons, soft silks, rich in colors I had never seen in our small village.

This was not by chance. He knew well of my skill in crafting garments from scratch, and he delighted in feeding that passion.

With heartfelt consideration, Jonas approached each year making it his mission to breathe new life into my wardrobe by fostering my creative efforts. This annual ritual allowed me to craft my own clothing and proudly present my creations to him.

I would spend hours at the old hand-crank sewing machine he had given me as a child, stitching and fitting until the garment was perfect. The machine had seen better days. Its surface was scratched, the mechanism stuck occasionally, and I had to coax it along with each project. Then came the best part; the moment I would emerge from my room wearing what I had made, watching Jonas's face light up with pride.

Once in a while, I would make him a matching shirt for when we attended the city festival together, and he would wear it with a smile, telling everyone that his daughter had made it herself.

This special tradition not only established a profound link between the art of gift-giving and my love for fashion design, but it also solidified the cherished bond between us.

However, everything changed after his passing.

Later that same afternoon, I decided to pay Tina a visit. Perhaps some part of me hoped that she would remember this day. or I simply needed to be somewhere other than Emilio's house, surrounded by walls that felt more like a cage with each passing hour.

She was not there. The house was empty, the door locked, window closed. Then I thought of Adeline. I had not seen her in weeks, she was also not around.

Then I visited Celia. She had never forgotten my birthday. And as expected, she had a special gift for me; a small package wrapped in brown paper, tied with a bit of string. Inside was a length of pale blue cotton, soft and practical.

"I remembered," she said simply, pressing the package into my hands. "I know today is difficult."

"Thank you," I said, my voice thick.

She had also made my favorite cake, a simple sponge, sweetened with honey and topped with fresh berries from her garden. Only she knew my birthday because she had been my teacher until Jonas's passing. She had taught me to read, write, and reminded me a world beyond our small village.

We sat together for a while, eating cake and speaking of small things and gossip a little about the village. Then talked about the harvest, the new merchants who had come to town. It was a brief respite, a moment of normalcy in a life that had become anything but normal. I noticed she did not ask about Emilio and I did not offer. By now everyone knew that I belonged to him, so I thanked her, and went on my way.

I could already predict Emilio's mood if he learned that I had stopped to see Celia. In his mind, seeing Celia meant seeing Jacob, her husband. And seeing Jacob meant contact with another man, something he viewed with suspicion and barely contained hostility.

When I returned home, I was surprised to find Tina there, sitting across from Emilio, engaged in conversation. She was smiling, her posture relaxed, her demeanor content. She looked comfortable in a way I had never seen before, as if she belonged in his space, in his home, in his life.

I did not know how long she had been there or why. I guessed their relationship extended beyond the sheets and was far more serious than I had thought.

I noted her expression change when she saw me. Her smile faltered, her posture stiffened, even though she tried to hide it. There was something like guilt in her eyes, quickly masked by a bright, false welcome.

"There you are, dear," she said, her voice dripping with false concern. "Where have you been? Did you enjoy your little outing? You really should be more careful about where you go."

I walked past them, giving no acknowledgment, and began clearing a spot on a nearby table. I needed something to do with my hands, somewhere to direct my attention that was not them.

Tina continued, clearly trying to assert her new dominance. "You know, Emilio was just telling me about the troubles he has had with you. Honestly, Saintilia, you are so difficult. Always resisting, always making things harder than they need to be. Why can you not simply accept your fate? For everyone’s sake just accepted him."

She spoke as if she were offering advice. A wiser woman guiding a stubborn child. I kept my back to them, my hands busy with meaningless tasks. I would not give her the satisfaction of a response. I would not give either of them the satisfaction of seeing how deeply her words cut through.

Frustrated by the lack of reaction, Tina's voice hardened. "Why don't you say something? Are you always going to be so stubborn and arrogant? You have nothing left now. You should be grateful for the roof over your head."

'Grateful. She speaks of gratitude while she sold me into this.'

I gave her a blank, cold stare, that said: I see you. I know what you have done. I know what you are.

Then I deliberately turned my back to continue organizing the room, my movements unhurried, my breathing measured. The conversation died like a candle snuffed between fingers.

'Let her stew in her own discomfort. Let her wonder what I know.'

Tina sighed in visible annoyance, realizing she couldn't provoke me. I heard her shift, the rustle of fabric, the small, frustrated exhale. Then she turned back to Emilio, her tone brightening with forced cheer.

She seemed surprised and immediately began explaining the purpose of her visit. She came to check on me and wanted to know how Emilio and I were getting along, also curious about my living arrangement. She was sorry she couldn't visit much earlier because circumstances hadn't allowed it.

'Circumstances. Is that what we call guilt?'

I paused in my organizing. A question had been forming in my mind for weeks, and now, with Tina sitting there draped in her false concern, it slipped out before I could stop it.

"Tina, are you regretting your decision?"

Tina's face shifted into a grimace, clearly caught off-guard. For a moment, something flickered behind her eyes. Was it guilt? Or simply confusion?

'Does she truly not understand what she has done? Or is this another performance?'

Continue.....