Things were bleak after that. Caruncle thought over her situation again and again, but there was no easy answer. If she didn’t testify against Custodio, Valentin would grow suspicious—and that wasn’t a risk we could take. She told him as much, and though it clearly hurt him, he accepted it. After his book of spells was destroyed, he looked utterly defeated.

  Moving into the Valbuena household was disorienting, especially seeing Felicity again. Caruncle tried to settle into routine, but every morning, she woke up in terror, certain she was still under Lopez’s control. She cried often. The head maid assumed it was grief over Custodio and quietly gave her time to recover.

  But that wasn’t it.

  She kept thinking—if Lopez were still alive, she could have made him remember, forced him to confront what he’d done. But he was gone, and yet, she was still trapped in that room. The days and years blurred together, and I could see her searching for meaning in all of it. Why? Why did it happen? Why did it have to be her?

  I tried to get in her shoes, not because I could comfort her—because I couldn’t—but because I thought that maybe if I could untangle the suffering in my head, I could carry it with me, and then the world would feel lighter if two people were carrying the same weight. In my head, I spoke to her: You’re free now, Caruncle. Let’s start over. But even I knew it wasn’t that simple. I thought so myself, forgetting was the best step to take.

  If she could somehow rewrite her life, she would make sure those chapters disappeared from existence. She remembered how, in captivity, she had tried to say what Lopez wanted to hear, only for it to make him more interested. When she stayed silent, he only hurt her more. So what was the right answer? Was killing him supposed to fix it? Because it hadn’t. And if there was no meaning in his death, then what was the meaning of those ten years?

  There wasn’t one. So she made a decision: they didn’t happen.

  Those days, those years—they were gone. She had started existing the moment Custodio woke her up in Elena’s body.

  And that was that.

  Returning to the capital only made things worse. The city was ugly. The sky was always clouded, the streets smelled like rain and filth, and the buildings were old and crumbling. Caruncle was given a maid’s uniform and formally introduced to the family.

  Valentin looked pleased when he saw her mopping the floors.

  She thought back to when she had stood before him, playing the part of an educated woman, hoping to convince him to push for the abolition of slavery. What a joke. She had read in the Pisces Library that after Luciana gained its independence, it took two decades for slavery to end—a slow, painful process. And now? Valentin likely saw her as nothing more than an easy target, a naive girl to be strung along. That’s why he had been paying attention to her.

  Well, she wasn’t that woman anymore. She wasn’t a lady, she wasn’t high class, she wasn’t anything. She was a maid, serving a family with their own financial troubles.

  Maybe that was where she belonged.

  ***

  Caruncle dusted the windows, the stiff fabric of her maid uniform brushing against her wrists. Across the room, Felicity lounged with her friends, their laughter rippling through the parlor like chimes in the wind.

  “Really? That sounds terrifying!”

  “Valentin found her at that old man’s estate. My father took her in because, well, who else would?” Felicity said, her voice dripping with faux sympathy.

  The conversation had turned to Caruncle.

  “She doesn’t talk?”

  “Maybe she’s just shy?”

  Felicity scoffed. “She’s not shy. She’s mute. Completely silent.”

  “How do you know?”

  Felicity giggled, leaning in as if sharing a scandalous secret. “The other day, I accidentally stepped on her foot. She started hopping around like a wounded rabbit, but not a single sound! It was hilarious.”

  “Accidentally?” One of the women raised an eyebrow.

  Felicity feigned innocence. “What are you implying?”

  “But I can’t deny it—she’s gorgeous,” another woman mused. “My brother saw her and said she looked like a silent little elf.”

  “Prettier than you even!” Felicity teased.

  The room erupted into laughter.

  Caruncle dusted the same spot on the window, her grip tightening on the handle. I watched her carefully. My little murderer, listening so patiently.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  “She does look young,” Felicity admitted.

  “How old is she?”

  “My father said she’s twenty-nine.”

  “Twenty-nine?” One of the women gasped. “I thought she was younger than you!”

  “She’s been locked away her whole life, so I suppose that helps.”

  “Oh, the poor thing!”

  Caruncle felt a strange sense of detachment, listening to them discuss her like she wasn’t in the room. "Maybe Felicity isn’t so bad after all." She said to herself.

  And then—

  “They say her father was a monster. He bought people to fulfill his sick fetishes.” Felicity paused, savoring the anticipation before dropping the final blow. “Apparently, he even bought that pervert Evelyn was once engaged to.”

  Caruncle went still.

  “You don’t mean…”

  “Yes. Caruncle.”

  Gasps.

  “Wait, isn’t that the guy who—”

  “The one who put on her clothes and laughed?”

  Caruncle’s breath hitched.

  “I never said that!” Felicity grinned. “But honestly? Evelyn never confirmed or denied it. She’d rather pretend it never happened.”

  Caruncle’s grip on the duster turned ironclad. “I’ll cut you like a fish”. She thought. She was grateful her back was to them. They couldn’t see the fury burning beneath her quiet expression.

  “Elena! Come here.” Felicity’s voice sliced through the air. “My guests want a better look at you.”

  Caruncle turned slowly, her eyes downcast as she approached.

  “Jeez, you really take your time,” Felicity huffed. “Sit down. Now, ladies—what do you think?”

  One of the women tilted her head. “Hmm… I imagine plenty of men would love to have her.”

  “She should find a fiancé! Even if she’s mute.”

  Caruncle twiddled with her fingers, looking down. Blushing. She liked the attention.

  “Hey, are you really mute?” one of them asked.

  “She is!” Felicity cut in before Caruncle could even react. “Don’t be rude.”

  “Raise your head, dear. We want to see your eyes.”

  Caruncle hesitated, then lifted her gaze.

  Silence.

  One of the women sucked in a breath. The others simply stared.

  “Your eyes…” The voice was hushed. “They’re beautiful.”

  One of the women gasped. The others simply fell silent.

  “You have really, really beautiful eyes.”

  Caruncle’s stomach fluttered. Like she was made of light.

  “I think they’re even prettier than Evelyn’s,” Felicity mused.

  Caruncle froze. Wait—who?

  A knock at the door. A maid hurried to answer.

  “Oh, finally! Evelyn, come in! I wanted you to meet my maid!”

  Caruncle turned, and the world stopped.

  Evelyn stepped into the room, the glow of the cloudy afternoon casting a soft halo around her figure. She hadn’t changed much in ten years—if anything, she was even more striking. Her sad eyes, her gentle smile. She looked like the Belt of Venus, that fleeting moment when the sky turns violet and everything feels dreamlike, as if suspended between worlds.

  Caruncle stared.

  “Elena? Elena!” Felicity’s voice sliced through the moment. “Are you deaf too? My guest is trying to greet you! For fuck’s sake.”

  “Felicity!” One of her friends scolded.

  “What? It’s just an expression!”

  Felicity rolled her eyes while Evelyn took a seat beside Caruncle, studying her with quiet curiosity.

  “And… is she alright?” Evelyn asked.

  Oh. Oh wow.

  She said "she."

  Caruncle felt dizzy. She wanted to hold onto that word, to cradle it in her arms like a delicate thing. She. What a wonderful letter, what a magnificent sound. The alphabet had never been so kind.

  “Uh… yes,” Felicity waved dismissively. “She’s just slow. A country girl, you know.”

  Caruncle extended her hands toward Evelyn, palms up.

  Evelyn blinked in confusion before hesitantly placing her own hands in Caruncle’s.

  “What is she doing?”

  “I don’t know,” Felicity snorted. “Maybe that’s how mute people say hello.”

  “Really? I wish she’d greeted me that way!”

  Caruncle barely heard them. Her fingers brushed against Evelyn’s wrists, searching—searching for something. A pulse, a sign, proof that this was real. But the only heartbeat she felt was her own.

  Evelyn gave a nervous chuckle. “That was… interesting. What were you trying to do?”

  Caruncle shook her head.

  “She’s a little loopy,” Felicity muttered.

  “I don’t think so,” Evelyn said softly. “I thought it was nice.”

  Felicity shrugged. “Anyway, she’s the daughter of that old man I told you about.”

  Evelyn’s expression darkened. “…Oh.”

  “I don’t think she knows much about Caruncle, but maybe she could write—wait, Elena, can you write? Did your father teach you?”

  “No, wait—Felicity,” Evelyn’s voice dropped, “I’d rather not—”

  Caruncle nodded.

  Felicity grinned. “Great! Claire, bring a notebook and pen!”

  As the maid scurried off, Felicity turned back to Evelyn. “We were just talking about how young Elena looks for her age. What do you think?”

  “Well… I don’t know. How old is she?”

  “How old do you think?”

  “Twenty-four? Twenty-five?”

  “She’s twenty-nine.”

  Evelyn blinked. “Oh. Wow. I guess I can see it.” She smiled. “You’re very beautiful, Miss Elena.”

  Caruncle’s chest clenched. “If only you knew that was all I ever wanted you to say to me, Evelyn.” She thought.

  “And you are already pushing thirty, woman,” Felicity teased. “You should be taking things seriously. Your clock is ticking.”

  Evelyn sighed. “I told you, I’m not looking for anyone right now. Besides, look at Miss Elena—I doubt she’s thinking about romance either.”

  “I guess, but she’s twenty-nine! You’re thirty! You’re already on the third floor, as they say. You should be setting an example.”

  “Oh? Then why don’t you set one?”

  “Nope! I’m twenty-eight. I still have two years left.”

  Caruncle barely heard them. She was still caught in Evelyn’s words.

  Aren’t you a pretty girl now, Caruncle? Everyone thinks so.

  The notebook arrived. Caruncle took it onto her lap, fingers tightening around the pen.

  “Write what you know about Caruncle,” Felicity said.

  “Yeah, tell us,” another woman prodded. “How did he end up there? Did he escape?”

  Evelyn’s face darkened. “Please, don’t.”

  “Or—” Felicity ignored her. “Tell us about your father. He was a monster, wasn’t he?”

  “He kept you locked away like a prisoner, didn’t he?”

  “It’s time for you to vent! We want to hear you out.”

  The words swirled around her, overlapping, tightening, twisting.

  Caruncle didn’t write a single word.

  Tears dripped onto the blank page, smudging the ink before it could even be written. A faint smile ghosted over her lips, but no one noticed it.

  “Look what you did!” Evelyn snapped. “You don’t ask people things like that—it’s cruel!”

  “We were only asking for your sake!”

  “And I’ve told you over and over—I don’t want to hear about it! I moved on!”

  A pause.

  Then Evelyn turned to Caruncle, her voice softer now. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “It’s over now. You’re safe here.”

  She pulled Caruncle into her arms, holding her tight.

  Caruncle broke.

  “If I could speak, I’d tell you how much I still love you.”

  She buried her face in Evelyn’s shoulder while holding her tightly, silent tears shaking her frame.