The Archduke's Songbird-Chapter 228: The Cottage(3)

This room, unlike the others, was filled with an assortment of items, each one a piece of their shared history.

The walls were lined with shelves, each holding a variety of objects. She saw books, many of which were her favorites, their spines worn from frequent reading.

She picked up one of the books and her face blushed with the vulgarity of the words in that book.

"You read them all..." she whispered tracing her fingers gently over the books.

There were jars of herbs and potions, a nod to his interest in healing and herbalism. A large wooden table dominated the center of the room, covered with maps, sketches, and notes. It looked like a workshop, a place where Jerrick had poured his heart and soul into projects that mattered.

Her eyes landed on a wooden box sitting on the table. She walked over and opened it, her breath catching in her throat as she saw what was inside.

There were two bundles of letters, each one carefully folded and tied with a ribbon. She picked up the top letter and recognized Jerrick’s handwriting immediately. The letters were addressed to her, though she had never received them.

She took a glance at the other bundle and those were the letters she sent—the letters she thought that didn’t reach him.

With trembling hands, she unfolded one of the letters in the other bundle and began to read. It was the reply to the letter she wrote him that she never received.

The words were filled with love, longing, and a deep sense of regret. He had written to her about his dreams, his fears, and his unwavering love for her.

She opened another letter. It was a letter he wrote from the battlefield. The next letter was the one he wrote after the death of Joar. There was one he wrote last year.

I’m dying, Mynah... I want to die... How can I live without you?

I do not know how I am going to face you. But I’d rather see you alive than dead...

Jaylene mimicked you today and I got mad at her.

I saw you in the ball last night. You looked pretty in red. You look happy, Mynah. That’s all I want.

Is he making you happy? I want to kill him. I truly do when I see you looking at him the way you used to look at me. But... I’m glad you are happy with him. I’m glad you’re smiling from your heart.

I’m sorry I told you I was never in love with you. I truly loved you. I don’t anymore. I don’t. I don’t. I don’t love you. Yes, I don’t love you anymore. I did. Not anymore.

I’m sorry you lost your child. I want to talk to you. I want to touch the tip of your fingers, at least. I miss hearing your voice, Mynah...

Where are you? Why can’t I find you? Come to me, my Songbird. I cannot live without you anymore.

Each letter was a testament to the love he had for her, despite the unfortunate circumstances that separated them.

The words, the smudged ink, and the rough impressions on the paper echoed the state of his mind—turbulent, passionate, and unwavering.

Tears streamed down her face as she read letter after letter, each one revealing a piece of his heart. She realized that even in their time apart, he had never stopped loving her, and never forgot the future they had planned together.

Each letter held his voice, his presence, and the depth of his feelings, making her heart ache with bittersweet longing.

Jessamyn sat down at the table, clutching the letters to her chest. She closed her eyes, letting the emotions wash over her. She felt a mixture of joy and sorrow, of hope and regret. But most of all, she felt an overwhelming sense of love—a love that had endured despite everything.

The warmth of the breeze and the scent of jasmine enveloped her, creating a cocoon of comfort and reflection. She thought about the time they had lost, the pain they had endured, but also the unbreakable bond that had survived and brought them together again.

She wiped her tears and placed the letters back in the box. Her lips curved to a smile but then her eyes filled with tears. He held that much pain for years and yet he made no mention of it even now. He endured it all alone.

She let out a deep breath, her eyes landing on a dresser in the corner of the room. Curiosity and a tinge of nostalgia led her to open the drawers. She had an idea of what she might find, but the reality was more poignant than she expected.

All the handkerchiefs she had embroidered for him were neatly folded, their intricate designs still vivid. Each one held a memory, a piece of her heart. One had a cut, but he hadn’t even mended it, preserving it just the way it was, as if every stitch and imperfection was precious.

Underneath the handkerchiefs, she found something else that brought a bittersweet smile to her lips. It was the shirt she had mended for him. The memory flooded back—he had been working in the garden when he tore his shirt.

At that time, he only had three shirts, and the other two had become too small for him. She had wanted to buy him new shirts that fit, but she had no allowance of her own.

She had tried asking for money but was harshly rejected by Emily. In a desperate bid to help him, she had stolen money from her father.

Her plan was thwarted before she even left the castle gates, and she had received a severe beating for stealing in her own home. She never told Emily why she stole the money, which resulted in further punishment.

The physical pain was bearable, but the sight of him wearing that old, wrinkled, small shirt had hurt her more deeply.

Determined to help in any way she could, she had taken the torn shirt from him and, instead of merely adding a patch to mend the tear, she covered it with her embroidery. She wanted him to know that she cared, that she was always there for him, even if she couldn’t provide everything he needed.

Jessamyn held the shirt close, feeling the rough fabric against her skin, the careful stitches she had made so long ago. The embroidery was a simple design—a small cluster of flowers—symbolizing her love and dedication. Each stitch represented a moment of longing, a silent promise to always be there for him.

Tears welled up in her eyes again, not just from the memory of the pain she endured, but from the realization of how much he had cherished these tokens of her love.

Just then, she heard a clicking noise downstairs. With a screech, Jaylene flew out of the window. Jessamyn listened closer to the soft thudding on the floor.

He’s back!