"Who are you?" I ask.

"Mathilda." A girl says, arms folding across her chest.
"And I've never seen you here before."

"I'm mostly away for school and this is my home, should I add." I grumble, leaning against the bookshelves at my side.

"Then go back there and leave me to my books." She turns to the table behind her, an open book lying there.

Rolling my eyes, I do the exact opposite and walk over to the table.

She sighs and puts her hands on her waist.
Petals of white and red roses in a vase wave by the summer breeze.

"Persuasion," I say the book's title.

"Do you read?" she asks.

"I wouldn't have been able to read the title if I didn't."

"Frankly, problems like your barging in would have solved if you didn't." Her reply creases my lips into an unexpected smile.

What surprises me more is that she smiles back, and that I keep coming back to the library at this exact time for the rest of summer.

That memory... I was only fourteen years old at the time.
And I was so very mortifying at that age.
But her being in Edenfield's library so many years ago...

Why is she so different from anyone else I've ever met? And if she's so different, do I tell her about myself, my whole self? A weight settles behind my eyes like a shroud. I wouldn't even have been able to tell Henry if he hadn't revealed himself before.
I grip her handkerchief within my pocket, all the while being conscious of the figure cloaked in black behind me. At least that takes my attention away from the shadows in my eyes.

Short; slips away easily enough; dark linen coat unlike most residents here, but lesser than where I come from.
Can't observe more from my angle unless I acknowledge him.

I sigh, a thin twinge remaining of my morning headache. Gladly, breakfast and work assuaged it to some extent.

The man behind has been following me ever since I entered the East End.
But if he were a thief, he would've taken his chance by now.

I stop circling around the Penroses' apartment.
The person shifts in my peripheral vision, giving me a look at the long gash stretching across his unsleeved arm.

Cannot deduce the sort of gash from this short of viewing.

He disappears into a corner; I wait for a few moments, foot rising in his direction.

Do you want more questions or a few answers?

I turn away at the last moment, knocking on the apartment door.

Answers now; questions later.
And something tells me I'll see more of him.

Wind blows, another memory threatening to blind my eyes.
My eyes shut, as the door creaks open.

"Do come in, Doctor," a voice comes from inside, a frail yet loud one.

That isn't her voice...

Still, I enter and close the door behind me with a whispering click.
Mrs Penrose sits on her rocking usual chair, her welcoming smile almost as bright as her red hair.

Did I come here too early or too late?

I try wrinkling a smile towards her.
"I accidentally took Miss Penrose's handkerchief with me the last time I was here.
I came back to give it to her."
The cotton handkerchief feels like silk in my palms while pulling it out.

Now I understand why she gave it to me...

"She will be coming back shortly. You can give it to her on your own." Mrs Penrose grips the arm rest, scrunching her features while standing up.

I move towards her, but she waves me off.

"Do you know why I sleep on that mattress and not in the room, Doctor?" Mrs Penrose points to the folded mattress against the wall, the one near the stove.

Sighing, I shake my head.

"Tilly once fell ill; she was eighteen years old at the time," Mrs Penrose sighs. I keep rolling the handkerchief in my hands.
"I made her sleep in my room." She flicks a finger at the small corridor's door. "I told her that she needed it more."

Mrs Penrose takes a long breath, looking at her daughter's door.
"I was surprised she consented so easily, but was glad that my daughter had a bed again."
Mrs Penrose stands up, picking up the bag next to her rocking chair.
"But, after some time, I found out that that room had become much damper than what I remembered and this living room," she pauses, "much warmer. We didn't even have enough money then to buy our own wood and repair the water trodden old one.
That was when I understood why she consented so easily. I... I still was never able to confront her about it..."

After Mrs Penrose's anecdote, I want to say something, something meaningful, something worthy of the words spoken.

But I can't.
All I am able to do is let my shoulders fall and say,
"Why... why are you telling me this?"

Mrs Penrose bends down to pick up a bag next to the door.
"Because I do not want you to hold my daughter accountable for my actions. Only blame me."

I blink.
"Mrs Penrose..."

Mrs Penrose only smiles, looking out of the window.
"Tilly seems to be turning towards here."
She turns to me, and I pull my hands at my back.
"If you'll excuse me, I have to go somewhere."

I nod, stepping to the side.

A familiar figure open the door, letting the already unknown words remain forgotten on my lips.
One that makes me acknowledge all flashes instead of ignoring them.

Mathilda glances at me, before Mrs Penrose envelops her into an embrace, obscuring her from my sight.

I look away anyway.

"Mama..." Mathilda says in between the short intervals of air she receives during the embrace.

Mrs Penrose steps to the side, while Mathilda glances in between the two of us.

Her mother chuckles,
"Hear, he came all this way only to deliver a handkerchief. Please, entertain our guest while I deliver these to the dress shop."
Mrs Penrose grips the bag, turns and closes the door behind her.

Mathilda and I stand there for a moment. Flashes of the last time we were alone wade in front of me, but I pull out her handkerchief.
The lilacs embroidered on its edges await her as she stares for a moment or two.
She takes it-- our hands brushing so quickly as if they never even met.

Placing the handkerchief on the table, Mathilda loosens the bow of her cloak.
"Let me take this off and I shall you the truth."
The bow falls into lean strings, as Mathilda shrugs off her cloak. I look away. Too quickly. Again.
"But first."
She puts the cloak on her mother's chair, while gesturing me to the two adjoined seats in front of it.

I oblige.
"But first?"

Instead of mist shading her eyes like the last time we were together, incandescence flows through them.
And I tear away my gaze now, even when I want to.

"But first, I need to know what you think you do."

Hey everyone, I hope y'all are doing well ❤️

oh la la, what is gonna happen in ze next chapter
And who dis mystery man following Matt 👀👀👀

As for the gif, yeah I felt it went well with the chapter aesthetic (mostly reminiscent of the red and white roses in the flashback).

Btw, boi did I love everyone's reactions in the last chapter
Y'all really want the raven back after the creepy ass snake 🌚🌚🌚

Anyway, have a great week!
Mind answering this question (I'm curious as to what y'all think lol)?

Is the guy following Matt doing it on his own or because of someone's orders? Who is this someone? 👀👀👀

Don't forget to vote! ❤️

Have a great day!
Love,
MS Zame

P. S. I will not deny the influences of Jane Austen's Persuaion in this book

Did I just give a spoiler hmmm 👀