Author's POV
Spring used to be Anna's favorite time of year. Sunshine would bring her out onto this very balcony, but now she barely comes here. The big house feels lonely and sad, and everything reminds her of her pain. It's quiet everywhere, just like she feels inside. Even the sweet smell of flowers isn't the same anymore. It's been four years since something terrible happened that changed her life completely.
She ran her fingers along the cold stone railing, reading a faded message about following dreams. A sad smile played on her lips, a faint echo of her past boldness. The city used to be a constant buzz of excitement, not a faraway rumble. Her life wasn't filled with the quiet green of this big yard but with the energy of busy streets and new adventures. Sunny mornings used to be the norm, but they are not rare treats.
The quiet grew heavy, like a weight on her chest. The bright green lawn seemed to show off how dull her life had become. A tiny spark flickered in her eyes, a reminder of the adventurous Anna Wilson who used to love exploring. But right now, she felt stuck, alone on a fancy balcony, like a statue. She missed the happiness that used to fill her spring season. Being Anna Wilson used to be great, but becoming Mrs. Parker had completely changed her life, like a crazy roller coaster ride that turned everything upside down.
Anna’s POV
Everything is quiet around me, too quiet. I'm all alone all the time, and it's starting to get me down. Why did this happen to me? Was it always going to be bad, or did I do something wrong? I used to be happy, but now I feel trapped. Is it this big house or the people here? Or maybe it's because someone hurt me badly. Someone once said you shouldn't take good things for granted, and now they all seem far away. I miss my Mom and Dad, and everything they did for me. They wanted me to have a good life and exciting experiences, but now it all feels fake and fancy, like a jail made of gold. I'm scared to try anything new anymore, and all I can think about are the things I should have done or the way things could have been different.
“Mrs. Parker, Breakfast is ready”, Agnes said.
Her voice merely whispers.
“Is Paul down there?”, I couldn’t stop myself from asking that.
The person I longed to have food with, has become the worst nightmare of my life. The most wrong decision ever in my life.
“He left home early in the morning Madam, Hope he won’t return till evening. And Mr. David……..”
Her voice trailed off, unspoken questions lingering in the air.
“Is Uncle here?”, well if he is there, then it could be a great relief for me.
“Uhmm.. Well, Madam, he might sometimes come home today as informed earlier, but I’m still unsure about the same”, Agnes confirmed, her gaze flitting nervously between me and the vibrant landscape beyond.
“Everything about this place is unsure.” I sighed.
“Uhmm, well Madam…”, the hesitation in her voice was very clear and it irked me to some extent.
“Spill it out, Ms. Agnes.”
Agnes hesitated, then added, "Mr. Parker requested the apricot preserves. The ones you used to make."
"Did he request it? Well, I suppose I can't disappoint him, can I?", a hint of a smile played on my lips, a bittersweet echo of a life less ordinary.
“He, hmm, asked for it to be ready once he returns.”, hesitantly added the maid.
“I’ll look into it Agnes, you can leave now. I’ll join the table soon.” I was agitated and turned back to enjoy the beautiful morning view.
I tried to breathe in deeply, filling my lungs with the fresh morning air, invigorated by the purity of the moment. At the moment all I needed was peace and tranquility, the moment of safety that I felt with the person in my dreams. The hand that embraces me, the warmth of the chest that holds me closer every time I fall.
The more I wanted to avoid the dream thinking it to be a wishful one, the more he conquered my sleep and my mind. As if some sort of deja vu was happening. The long slender fingers with the black birthmark near the fourth finger were all I could see again and again about him. Maybe the warmth and the safety were something that I longed for long enough that I could at least be satisfied with the long-lost dreams that were keeping me safe at least in my sleep, until the creepy hands entangled me around my belly. Pretending to sleep, eyelids pressed shut, every muscle in my body tensed, worrying if I ever get a chance to see the morning. Will I ever be free from this cage?
Author’s POV
An unsettling silence hung heavy in the air. Anna sat at the vast breakfast table, its grandeur only emphasizing the emptiness of the mansion. Sunlight slanted through the tall windows, striping the polished mahogany with zebra-like shadows, but it failed to reach the corners, where darkness seemed to cling. A lone crystal vase held a vibrant bouquet of lilies, their perfume a defiant splash of color in the sterile room.
Anna unfolded her napkin, the crisp paper echoing the hollowness in her chest. She raised a delicate cup to her lips, the clink against the saucer sounding like a gunshot in the silence. Her breakfast, a meticulously arranged display of untouched eggs and smoked salmon sat heavily on a silver platter. It was a picture-perfect meal, but it felt like a mockery of the life she once knew.
The usual symphony of morning sounds – the rustle of the newspaper, the gentle clink of a spoon – was absent. The silence, instead of relaxing her mind, screamed of something missing. This place had once been a canvas for happiness, a stage for her dreams. But now, fate had painted it with a bitter brushstroke, leaving her with a gnawing fear she couldn't quite name. A sense of foreboding settled over her, heavy as the silence itself. She thought Destiny could be a cruel puppeteer, twisting dreams into nightmares.
Anna’s POV
I forced a smile, taking a deep breath to steady myself. I felt like I was being watched, judged by unseen eyes reporting back to him. It had been a long time since I'd had a peaceful breakfast, yet here I sat, unable to truly enjoy it.
I decided the silence wouldn't win. I picked up my fork and speared a piece of salmon, the delicate flavor a welcome distraction. It almost felt like I could hear my parents laughing and talking softly, sharing stories of their family history. They used to serve me my favorite meals, and the house would be filled with laughter. Now, those memories were fading, replaced by a longing for a time five years gone. Everything had changed the day my life turned upside down.
With a surge of new resolve, I decided to embrace the quiet. Maybe it could be an opportunity to listen to myself, to reconnect with the memories that were a part of me. But as I focused on the silence, it became a weight, heavy with the echoes of the past. The memories were both a comfort and a fresh wound, reopening the hurt I'd been trying so hard to heal.
Tears welled up in my eyes. Time had flown by, but the pain remained. I missed my parents, the way they used to care for me, the love that filled our home. Everything feels different now.
Suddenly, a loud crash from another room shattered the silence. I jumped, startled, the peaceful moment vanishing instantly. My heart hammered in my chest. Was it him? Was he coming?
The sound wasn't followed by anything else. Tentatively, I put my fork down and listened. Stillness. Maybe it was just something falling over. Maybe I could have a few more moments of quiet.
I closed my eyes, trying to recapture the connection with my past. I focused on the happy memories, the love of my parents, and the laughter that used to fill the house. But the silence kept pulling me back to reality, a stark reminder of my current situation.
A single tear escaped and traced a path down my cheek. I wiped it away angrily. I wouldn't let the silence or him win. I had to find a way to move forward, to create new memories, even if it meant facing the pain of the past.
Taking another deep breath, I forced myself to pick up my fork again. One bite at a time, I would get through this breakfast. One day at a time, I would find a way to heal and reclaim my life.
“Uhm… Madam, what would you love to do for the rest of the day?” asked Agnes.
I looked at her, Agnes, the only maid I talked to in this mansion. She had been by my side since my childhood. The only favor I asked him, Paul Parker, my husband, before he brought me here was to get her along with me. And surprisingly he didn’t deny that. It wasn’t that he never loved me, but his love was all a betrayal I had in my whole life, the betrayal I welcomed myself, being thirsty for love and attention. Yet I have no idea what he wants from me, or why he is doing this to me.
“Didn’t your master ask for the apricot preserves? The ones I used to make, I wish to make now.”, I said. A worried crease began to form around her brows. I could well read what was in her mind though I didn’t want any further discussions on that. Even though I am the caged queen of the mansion, the people respected me, maybe out of sympathy that I got unfortunately caged in the wrong place.
After the silent breakfast, I moved to the kitchen to make my husband’s favorite snack. I used to be in college when we studied together, when our love blossomed when he came to meet my parents and finally the first day he took me here, to his world as his caged queen. It’s been almost 4 years and he has asked again, not to me but to the maid. I wonder where things changed so harshly that I can’t hate him but love him too.
Agnes bustled around me with a worried crease between her brows. "Miss Anna, there's no need to go to all this trouble. We have plenty of store-bought jams.", she said.
Sporting a flour smudge on my cheek, I glared at the overflowing pot. "Not, Agnes. Paul has requested my preserves, and that's precisely what he'll get. Besides, it's been far too long since I've graced this kitchen with my culinary skills." I said.
I could see Agnes looking at them with a defiant glint in her eye,
A hint of a smile tugged at Agnes' lips. "Just be careful, Anna. You know how particular you can be when it comes to your recipes."
"Nonsense. It's just a simple apricot preserve. How hard can it be?" I muttered, already eyeing the simmering pot with suspicion. The last memory of making preserves involved a scorched pan and a near kitchen fire. I repeated the mistake of believing him twice and I’m still vulnerable with it. The memories haunt me.
To be continued...
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