Amaris immediately picked up the conversation, her words dripping with false sympathy.
"Isn’t that the truth? Ever since Brother Alaric fell ill, nothing in this house has been anything but a headache. Life has become unbearable."
"If it weren’t for you..."
She didn’t finish the sentence, but her meaning hung in the air, heavy and clear.
I turned over sharply, deliberately letting out a few harsh coughs.
But to my surprise, instead of backing off, Amaris and Silas grew even more brazen.
A few days later, Silas began flaunting his newfound authority, moving around the house like he owned it.
The old storage cabinet stood against the wall, a silent reminder of my father’s legacy.
Inside were the tools my father had used throughout his life, tools of his craft.
My father had been a well-known shadow puppeteer in the surrounding villages.
It was his exceptional craftsmanship that had earned him a fortune envied by many.
But after my marriage, a tragic accident had sent him tumbling into a ditch.
From that moment on, my health mysteriously worsened and my position in this house diminished with each passing day.
"This useless junk is nothing but an eyesore," Silas muttered, his brow furrowing as he reached for the cabinet, determined to drag it away.
"Don’t—" I had barely begun to speak when a loud crash ripped through the silence.
The cabinet toppled, sending my father’s shadow puppet figures scattering across the floor.
Even the lanterns, his most prized possessions, were shattered into countless fragments.
Silas let out a dramatic yelp, bending down to collect the pieces with an exaggerated tenderness.
"Alaric, look at me. I'm so clumsy, breaking everything. You won’t hold it against me, will you?"
Though his words were laced with feigned apology, a flicker of triumph gleamed in his eyes.
At the sound of the crash, Amaris rushed into the room, her expression tight with concern.
The moment her eyes fell on the wreckage, her brows knitted together in a deep frown.
But instead of looking at me, she headed straight to Silas, her voice full of false sweetness.
"Brother Silas, are you alright? Did you hurt yourself?"
She examined him from head to toe, her worry almost tangible.
Then, without missing a beat, she spun around and snapped at me, her voice sharp and accusing.
"How many times have I told you to get rid of this junk? Why do you leave it lying around? Look, you nearly got Brother Silas hurt!"
Amaris’s voice was sharp, her foot sweeping across the scattered fragments.
"This old, worthless trash! Who even bothers with shadow puppets anymore? People watch movies now!"
A rush of blood surged to my head, a deafening hum echoing in my ears.
I stared at Amaris, her face once so familiar and cherished to me, now twisted with nothing but frustration and disdain, all because of another man.
A sharp pain pierced through my chest and I erupted into a violent fit of coughs.
But Amaris never spared me another glance. She supported Silas as they walked out, leaving me behind in the wreckage, abandoned and alone.
Looking back, it was almost laughable.
A child could never truly keep secrets, no matter how hard they tried.
Ever since Silas moved in, my son, Caelum, who had once clung to me every day, now seemed completely captivated by something else.
Even though reason told me he might not be my biological son, after two lifetimes as his father, I still couldn’t help but care for him.
"Caelum, how are your grades this term? Let me take a look."
I swallowed the dryness in my throat, forcing out the words hoarsely.
"What’s there to look at? It’s so annoying. Nothing to see."
Caelum didn’t even glance up, his fingers absently picking at a shiny metal tin.
His tone was sharp, tinged with icy bitterness, each word sliced through me like shards of glass.
Unconsciously, my eyes drifted toward the courtyard.
My gaze met Silas’s just as he turned, his eyes locking with mine.
For a fleeting moment, his meaningful smile vanished, but its shadow still sent a cold shiver down my spine.
It wasn’t just Caelum; even the villagers seemed like strangers.
At first, when word spread about Silas taking over my household, some of my father’s old friends came by, offering their hollow words of comfort, telling me to “hold on” and that “life isn’t easy.”
But soon enough, it felt like no one cared whether I lived or died.
I couldn’t say what Amaris had been whispering to people or if it was just that Silas’s harmless, sincere face was too convincing.
But the villagers’ sympathy for me quickly shifted into thinly veiled disdain.
After all, living with someone as good as the dead was hardly a light burden.
Taking advantage of the pleasant weather, I thought about going for a walk, but before I even reached the old locust tree at the village’s edge, a flood of gossip washed over me, each word sharper than the last.
“If you ask me, that sickly Alaric is truly blessed by his ancestors.”
Liora’s cutting voice sliced through the air.
“He lost his father and now he spends his days bedridden. It’s a miracle he managed to marry someone like Amaris; any other woman would’ve left him by now.”
“And that Brother Silas, he’s something else! Helping with such sincerity, far better than that useless man.”
“Exactly! Without Silas, they would’ve starved long ago.”
“I don’t know how thick Alaric’s skin must be. If it were up to me, I’d say he should just leave. Let mother and son have some peace for once.”
“As if that worthless man would ever leave. He’s lucky to have a warm meal at all; what more does he need?”
