Amid the rustic charm and the serene landscapes of Prince Edward Island, Lydia Miller steps into the light of a hopeful future. Taken in by the benevolent Barry family, Lydia finds herself on the cusp of a new beginning, a stark shift from the shado...
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In the years to come, your memory will shine like a star over my lonely life." - Anne of Green Gables
Chapter 17 - Eternal Farewell
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As the sunlight streamed into Lydia's room on Monday morning, casting a warm, golden glow over everything it touched, the sole occupant remained oblivious to the beauty outside her window. Lydia lay sprawled across her bed, the turmoil of sleepless nights etched deeply under her eyes. It had been three days since she last found any peace in slumber, her mind a whirlwind of emotions—depression from the lack of time spent with Anne, anger towards her mother, and an overwhelming sense of isolation.
Her relationship with her mother had hit an all-time low following the incident, leading to days filled with silence, each avoiding the other's presence. The strain was evident in Lydia's posture, in the way she clutched her pillow a little too tightly as if holding on to the last vestige of comfort.
The knock on her door was soft, almost hesitant, but it pulled Lydia from her reverie. The door creaked open, revealing Margaret, the family's devoted housekeeper, whose presence always brought a semblance of warmth.
"Good day, Miss. Lydia," Margaret greeted her smile a gentle curve of encouragement in the dimly lit room. Despite her efforts to appear cheerful, concern clouded her features, a silent testament to her conversations with Mrs. Barry. The matriarch had shared her worries about both Lydia and Diana, particularly focusing on Lydia's refusal to speak, a detail that had unsettled the entire household.
"Good morning, Margaret," Lydia responded her voice barely above a whisper, a sad attempt at a smile gracing her lips. The interaction was brief, yet it spoke volumes of their bond, a silent understanding transcending words.
Margaret, sensing the young girl's vulnerability, offered her assistance. "May I help you to get dressed?" Her voice was soft, laced with concern.
Lydia's nod was almost imperceptible, a slight dip of her head as she pushed herself off the bed with a lethargy that spoke of her inner turmoil. Together, they navigated the simple task of dressing, Margaret's hands gentle and reassuring as she helped Lydia into her clothes. The silence between them was comfortable, filled with an unspoken empathy.
Once dressed, Margaret guided Lydia to the dresser, her hands skillful as she began tending to the tangled mess of hair. Lydia, facing her reflection, hardly recognized the girl staring back at her. Her eyes, red and puffy from nights drowned in tears, mirrored the depths of her sadness. The reflection showcased her inner chaos—hair disheveled, spirit broken.
Margaret, observing Lydia's frown, let out a sigh heavy with concern. Margaret broke the silence with a soft but firm voice, "Your mom is wrong."
Lydia, her gaze previously fixed on her reflection, looked up at Margaret through the mirror, taken aback by the directness yet comforted by the housekeeper's supportive tone.
