LETHAL JOURNEY || TEWKESBURY [2]

𝐯𝐢𝐢.

➷ LETHAL JOURNEY ࿐ྂ
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vii. The Lemon Tree Lies Still

Y/N ARRIVED EARLY IN THE estate the moment the Sun has responded to the Earth's calling. The girl gazed at the new landscape of the Basilwether's grounds, wearing the solid shades of a noble blood on the dress she made with her own hands.

The sooner she was near, the more anger she felt.

As the wooden doors opened, Tewkesbury revealed himself with the coldest gaze that caused her heart to slightly ache. She forced a smile.

"Tewkesbury," she called and nodded in greeting. He repeated the gesture and walked towards her, offering his arm. She looped her hands on his as her eyes darted everywhere in the room.

"I see a lot has changed." She commented. The home of the young lord really did improved, but he just lowered down. Y/N cleared her throat upon realising that he bore no response. She then turned her head to him, her heart leaping with nerve and anxiety as she spoke again, "So did you."

She clicked her tongue and stopped in her track, "Quite the improvement."

The sarcasm caught him off guard. A sigh escaped his lips as he shook his head. "I haven't changed a bit."

"And he protests. Of course, he would," she replied in silence and looked away. Her shoes made a noise; a signal that they must resume the walk.

Soon, they made it to the back garden of the enormous place, they awkwardly stood in front of a lemon tree.

Silence. No one dared to speak as they just stared at the standing art of nature, painted with the brightest shades of yellow and honey. Y/N couldn't help but feel jittery about the silence for all she knew it wasnt a good sign.

Normally, Tewkesbury would either kiss the back of her hand or tease her just like they always did whenever they're with each other. Perhaps that was when they were younger . . . a bit younger.

She bit her lip and ignored the lump that was forming in her throat. The benefit of the doubt might make it fade away. The girl clutched the fabric that made up her dress. She took a deep breath and looked at her lover, furrowing her eyebrows.

"I have yet to hear the answer to my last correspondence," Y/N started.

He couldn't look at her. His eyes was taking interest in the tree, resting his hands behind him like a proper man. The young lord cleared his throat, "Do you know what this tree means?"

"Disappointment," Y/N simply answered with the venom tinged in her voice. "If I may be too forward, I dare say it is the right interpretation of my feelings at the moment."

Tewkesbury slightly turned to her, still unable to meet her gaze. "How so?"

She didn't answer that question. "Look at me and ask me that again."

He did.

"Why in the bloody ribbons are we talking about a lemon tree?" Her tone wasn't as sweet nor as gentle as any rhythm he's ever heard from a ballad. It was burning. Fiery.

She was angry— if that wasn't so evident before.

All he did was speak in his mind, not with his mouth, and it wasn't treasured at all by the girl beside him. "So you're not going to say anything? Just like how you perfectly did it for a month and a half?" She asked. This was the last of her marbles to fiddle.