Chapter 185: 185 - every memory
185
~Lisa’s POV
I closed the door of my room and leaned against it, finally breathing out the weight of the day. The picnic had been fun, too fun, maybe. I had laughed, run around, and for a while forgotten everything that pressed down on me. But now, as I pulled at the knot of my dress and let it fall from my shoulders, I felt it all at once.
A sharp ache shot through my legs. My body grew heavy, like my bones were made of stone. I tried to move toward the bed, but halfway there I sank to the floor. My hands pressed against the rug, my breath uneven.
Why now? I thought. I had just pushed myself too much. Yet, I couldn’t even lift myself up.
The door creaked. I froze, embarrassed.
"Lisa?" Damon’s voice cut through the silence. His tall frame filled the doorway, eyes narrowing when he saw me on the floor. "What happened? Are you okay?"
I swallowed, trying to sound calm. "I... I can’t move. My legs..they feel too heavy. I guess I tired myself out at the picnic."
In an instant, he was kneeling beside me. His hands hovered, unsure where to touch me. "You should have told me you were in pain," he muttered, his voice tight.
"I didn’t know it would get this bad," I whispered.
He didn’t wait another second. His arms slid under me, strong and steady, lifting me off the ground as if I weighed nothing. I buried my face against his chest, heat crawling to my cheeks.
"You’re burning up," he said softly as he laid me gently on the bed. He reached for a small pouch on the table, pulling out herbs. The familiar smell filled the room, sharp, earthy, a little bitter. He crushed them quickly, mixing them in water before holding the cup to my lips.
"Drink."
I obeyed, the liquid sliding down my throat. Warmth spread in my chest, easing some of the tension.
Then, without a word, he sat at the edge of the bed and took my leg carefully in his hands. His thumbs pressed into my calf, slow and steady, working out the tightness.
I blinked at him, startled. "You’re... massaging my legs?"
"Don’t look so shocked," he said, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "You’re in pain. I can help."
I bit my lip, trying not to laugh. "I never thought I’d see Damon, the fierce one, giving me a massage."
He raised a brow but didn’t stop. "Don’t get used to it."
But I couldn’t help it, I smiled. I watched him, the way his brows drew together in concentration, the warmth of his hands. A sudden wave of memory hit me, so strong it made my chest tighten.
He noticed. "Why are you smiling like that?"
My throat tightened. "You... you remind me of my father."
He stilled, his fingers pausing against my skin.
I blinked back tears. "When I was little, whenever we went out, walks, trips, even market days, he always ended up massaging his legs after. He used to laugh and say his bones weren’t young anymore. Sometimes he’d let me sit beside him, and he’d joke that I should learn so I could take care of him when he got old."
My voice broke. The tears I’d been holding back slipped free. "But I didn’t. I wasn’t there when he needed me most. He’s gone now... and I couldn’t even stay by his side to give him the care he deserved."
For a moment, silence filled the room, only broken by my shaky breaths. Damon’s hand left my leg and touched my cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear.
"Lisa," he said gently, his voice deeper now. "It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known. And I... I should apologize."
His jaw tightened. "For keeping you here. For making you stay in this palace while your father was dying at home. If we hadn’t...."
I cut him off. "My father will carry me on his shoulders whenever I got tired. And at night, he would sing, off-key, horribly off-key." I laughed through my tears, shaking my head. "I’d always cover my ears and tell him to stop, but I never really wanted him to. It was home. His voice was home."
The more I spoke, the heavier it felt inside me. My chest hurt, my throat burned, but I couldn’t stop.
"One winter," I whispered, my eyes blurring, "I got so sick. Fever so high, I thought I’d never wake up. My father sat by my bed for days, barely eating, barely sleeping. He told me if I left him, he wouldn’t forgive me. He said, ’You stay alive, Lisa, because I can’t live without you.’"
Tears ran freely down my cheeks now. "And I lived. I lived because he told me to. But when he needed me most... I wasn’t there."
Damon’s jaw tightened, his eyes dark with something I couldn’t name. "Lisa..."
I shook my head, my voice cracking. "He was sick. Dying. And I..." I clenched my fists, guilt crushing me. "I wasn’t at his side. I wasn’t there to hold his hand, to give him water, to sing badly for him the way he sang for me. I should’ve been the one. But I wasn’t."
My sobs came harder now, my chest heaving. He pulled me against him, his arms wrapping tight around me. His chest was solid beneath my cheek, his heartbeat steady while mine was wild.
"You loved him," Damon murmured into my hair. "He knew that. Don’t think for a second he doubted it."
I shook against him. "But I abandoned him."
"No." His voice grew firmer. "Don’t twist it. You were here because we forced it. Because of me. If you want to blame someone, blame me...not yourself."
I pulled back slightly, tears still streaking my face. "But Damon..."
I didn’t know what I was feeling at that moment. I should have lashed out and yelled at him for keeping me in the palace against my wish but I was still grateful to him because he gave me the chance to see him for the last time.
He cupped my face in both hands, his thumbs brushing away the wetness on my cheeks. His gaze was sharp, but his tone was soft. "Listen to me. If your father could see you now, do you think he’d want you drowning in guilt? Or would he want you smiling, living, carrying his lessons with you?"
I hiccupped through a breath, my voice small. "He’d want me to live."
"Exactly." Damon leaned his forehead against mine. "And you are. Every memory you carry is proof of him. You didn’t abandon him, Lisa. He’s still with you. Right here." He pressed his hand gently over my heart.
I whispered, "I miss him so much."