𖤐 𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑻𝑾𝑬𝑵𝑻𝒀-𝑺𝑰𝑿:
╰┈➤ a soulmate who wasn't meant to be ༉‧₊˚.

MEREDITH HADN'T EVER BEEN DRESSED IN ALL BLACK. Today was a first. She owned one single black dress, it had lacy long sleeves and a subtle black outlining her frame. She'd never worn it in public before but Felix had seen it many times, and it was indubitably his favourite.

The tear flow of Meredith's eyes had come to a stop. She just stood there, bottom lips trembling as she clasped her tissue to her face, muffling a sob from crying out raw from the ache in her throat.

There was an unspoken feeling of haunt that Meredith never once dreamed of. Looking down at Felix, her soulmate's name, engraved on a stone like that.

He was merely only twenty years old, and they still had well over sixty years together more.

She was a mess, crumbling apart as the world slid out from beneath her feet and no one was there to catch her from falling. No hand to hold, no comforting words whispered in her ear. Just the cold embrace of emptiness, wrapping itself around her like a suffocating shroud.

Meredith took a shaky breath, trying to steady herself amidst the swirling storm of grief that threatened to consume her. She clutched onto Felix's favorite black dress, its delicate lace slipping through her trembling fingers. It was as if the fabric held the essence of their love, a tangible reminder of the moments they had shared.

Venetia sniffled from her side, and Farleigh quickly wrapped his arms around her frame, falling apart as his cheek his the top of her head.

And all it did was ping Meredith's heart.

She looked over to Elspeth to see just what she was feeling, if she had finally shown some emotion for her son's death. And she hadn't.

She still stood tall with her posture straight and her lips taut.

Right.

With a quick swipe of her hand, her cheeks were dry and she simply only sniffled once before turning around and beginning to walk back toward the home, not bothering to ask to be excused because honestly, she didn't care to.

What's done is done.

WARM WATER ENVELOPED MEREDITH'S body as she sank deeper into the bathtub, the soothing bubbles caressing her skin. But no amount of comfort could dispel the relentless thoughts that swirled in her mind. Felix, always Felix.

The warmth within the water wasn't warm enough. Darkness still hung in the air and floated around her body, sending a chill down her spine and freezing her body whole. 

The old Victorian house seemed to amplify her longing, its walls whispering secrets of past love affairs and unfulfilled desires. Every creak and groan echoed with the weight of forgotten romances, teasing Meredith's fragile heart. It was in this house that they first met, where their lives became intricately woven together like the threads of an ancient tapestry.

Meredith closed her eyes, allowing the memories to wash over her. She remembered the way Felix's eyes sparkled when he laughed, his infectious smile that made her heart skip a beat. Each touch, each stolen moment felt etched into her very being.

As the water gently lapped against the porcelain edges of the tub, Meredith's mind wandered back to that night in the maze. If she hadn't left him there, if she had just stayed, or--walked back with him safely to his room, he'd still be here. He'd be safe, and present. 

She'd pull her nude body up, out of the tub and onto the cold marbled floor that she didn't care whether slip on or not. 

She simply reached for the white towel on the golden rack beside the door and tugged it tightly against her soaked body, carelessly and empty-mindedly walking into the room that'd connect to Felix's. 

There'd been a certain kind of intimacy being in someone's living quarters after they've died. Felix spent his most peaceful (and restless) nights in these four walls and had spent some of his best with Meredith on that very bed. 

Tangled in those grey sheets, Meredith would never wake up to the sight of him again. Smiling down at her as he'd brush a strand of hair from her face. When all she could smell is him against his pillowcase but little did she know, she'd always leave a trail of the citrus scent of her shampoo behind on the same silk material. The one Felix would smell and smile against when missing her. 

Felix Felix Felix. 

Meredith could almost hear his laughing--their shared giggling--as her tear-filled gaze wandered over the empty, unmade bed. 

Felix never did like when the maids would come in and try to make his bed for him each morning, he didn't see a point in doing it himself, much less them. He'd be back in it sleeping that night, anyhow, wasting whoever made it that morning's time. 

She'd walked over to the boy's closet and all that was there were different varieties of button-up shirts. Most white, some a light shade of blue. He had half his wardrobe in the wash, as he was running low on much of his clothing. 

The tips of Mere's fingers traced the sides of the gentle fabric, listening to the quiet pattering of the clothes hangers hitting against one another. 

Ultimately, she grasped onto the one and gently slid it off of it's respective velvet hanger, releasing the damp towel from beneath her and letting it drop onto the floor as she draped the blouse over bare body and clung it tight to her. 

The shirt was large enough to fall just below her knees and when she wrapped her arms around her small frame, she closed her eyelids softly and allowed herself to relish in this small moment. In the scent of her soulmate gone too soon. 

A warm tear slid down her cheek, another threatening to as she let herself fall apart in that closet. Her back slammed against the wall and her bottom lip quivering. 

The house seemed to respond to Meredith's anguish, its creaks and groans intensifying as if in solidarity. She sunk to the floor, clutching Felix's shirt tightly against her chest, the fabric absorbing her tears. The weight of her grief felt unbearable in that moment, threatening to consume her whole.

Meredith Archibald would allow herself to fall apart just this once. Just one time.

She'd imagine Felix was there to wipe her tears and that he was the one holding her together as he wrapped his arms tight around her.

"Meredith, dear," Elspeth's voice startled her as she quickly looked up to meet the blonde woman, who was standing in the doorway, eyes red from tears. "You're not leaving Saltburn, are you?"

The question wasn't what Meredith was expecting at all. In fact, Meredith never had seen Elspeth cry.

Meredith didn't bother sniffling, or wiping the tears off her wet cheeks. It was no use. Elspeth had already seen her fall apart.

She shook her head once. "I'm not leaving Saltburn."