idk why
Mon très cher Quintilla,
I often find myself wondering why your father agreed to marry you off to that haggard man in the first place. I never wanted it. The very idea of you in his bed made me sick to my stomach. I was cowardly — too cowardly. I only refused once, yet I didn’t protest. Three weeks later, I found myself helping you with a wedding dress that was too big for you. I don’t know if I can forgive myself for signing you such a death warrant.
It’s been a week since you left the world, yet time seems to move agonizingly long. It’s unfair. You wanted to see her, didn’t you? Your daughter. Nozéa. Your final act of love was to bring her into this world, even at the cost of leaving it yourself. I held you in my arms as a child. I was by your side when you were sick. When you hurt, when you got lost. But I never, not once, thought I'd be reading a eulogy for you.
I cannot bring myself to look at the squalling babe who seems too much like my own. She deserves none of my bitterness, I know. What am I to do now? How am I to love a child born of this tragedy, a child who bears the name of the man who took you from me? She is innocent. But every glance at her breaks my heart anew and I don’t think I can bear any more stabs. How am I to love her when loving her feels like losing you all over again? Fulcran somehow managed to get on my nerves even more. How dare they? How dare that monster of a man — Fulcran — lock her away like she’s some pawn to be kept from her family? How dare he keep her from me? You died giving birth to that little girl, my only grandchild, and now he’s keeping her from us as if she’s his to keep as if she’s nothing but a thing to be claimed and hidden away.
It’s very lonely here, mon fille. Your father, Floxel, the man who would have bled and died to protect you, is no better. He is powerless in the face of Fulcran's deceit and arrogance. And I hate him for it, Quintilla. I hate that he is too weak to demand what is rightfully ours. The very child who should be ours to raise, to hold in our arms, and Fulcran keeps her from us as if she's his to control. His blood flows in her veins, but I will be damned if that bastard has any right to her. Your father is trying hard. He is. Am I being selfish for pushing him away when I need him the most? My mind can’t remove the image of your face as the switches in your head turn off, giving birth to your baby. It keeps me up at night, and my heart hurts. It hurts horribly, and I find myself unraveled. The ink feels heavy as I write this. I want to scream. I want to burn this world down, burn every single thing that reminds me of this horror. The house feels empty, quieter than it’s ever been. And in every corner, I can feel your absence.
If there is anything I could say to you one last time, I am so genuinely sorry for condemning you to such a fate. But what comfort is that now? It does not bring you back to me. And I want to beg, scream, rage, and apologize. I'm so genuinely sorry.
No matter what, when, or where, my dearest, I still truly love you and I miss you more than I can feel.
Your maman.