The Lancaster estate garden looked its most beautiful in the late afternoon.
Sunlight filtered through the tall leaves, casting golden shadows along the winding stone paths. The air was cool, carrying the faint scent of roses and freshly trimmed grass. In the distance, birds chirped softly, blending with the gentle rustle of leaves stirred by the wind.
Isabella Lancaster walked slowly, her hands clasped behind her back.
For years, this garden had been her refuge—when the house felt too large, too quiet, too empty. Here, memories returned gently, without pressing too painfully against her chest.
Yet today, even this familiar beauty felt different.
Her thoughts drifted back to the breakfast table that morning. The way Mattheo sat calmly across from her. The brief glance that lingered just a moment longer before he finally turned his gaze away.
Isabella tried to convince herself that she was simply overthinking things.
Six years was not a short time. It was natural for everything to feel unfamiliar.
And yet, the strange feeling refused to fade.
As she turned along the narrow garden path, her gaze landed on a figure seated beneath the old oak tree at the far end of the garden.
Her steps slowed.
The tree had stood there longer than anyone could remember—its branches wide, its trunk thick, marked by the passage of time. In the past, she and her brother often sat there, sharing stories, laughing, teasing one another over small things that now felt impossibly distant.
Now, beneath its shade, sat Mattheo.
He was reading a book, his expression calm and controlled. Sunlight touched his face, highlighting the mature lines that were still unfamiliar to Isabella's eyes.
Unfamiliar.
Isabella hesitated for a moment before stepping closer.
"Brother?"
Mattheo lifted his head. Their gazes met.
"Isabella," he said, closing his book slowly.
"Is something wrong? …I didn't hear you coming."
"I–I didn't mean to disturb you," she replied quickly, her fingers twisting together. "I was just… taking a walk."
"You're not disturbing me," he said briefly.
"Please, sit."
He gestured to the grass beside him.
Isabella hesitated again.
She didn't understand why such a simple invitation made her chest feel tight. In the past, she had never thought twice about sitting beside him. There had never been a distance to consider.
But now—
She eventually sat down, leaving a small space between them.
Silence fell, filled only by birdsong and the soft whisper of wind brushing through the leaves above.
"What are you reading?" Isabella asked at last.
Mattheo glanced at his book.
"Historical records of the Northern region."
"That sounds boring," she said lightly. "You used to hate books like that."
A faint smile appeared on Mattheo's face, though it never fully reached his eyes.
"I suppose my tastes have changed."
Isabella nodded, though curiosity stirred within her once more.
"You read a lot now," she said softly. "Even during dinner… you looked strange. Like you were avoiding something."
"I'm fine," he replied shortly.
"Really?" Isabella looked at him.
Mattheo nodded, his expression unchanged.
"How are you now?" she asked again.
"I'm well. Just as you can see."
Isabella let out a small breath.
"I just… I don't want this house to feel empty again like before."
"My place was like that too," he said suddenly.
Isabella turned to him in surprise.
"Your place was empty too? Weren't Father and Mother always with you?"
Mattheo fell silent.
Several seconds passed before he finally spoke, quietly.
"I'm just… not used to being in that place."
Isabella nodded, though she didn't fully understand. There was something in her brother's tone—something that made her chest ache.
"The treatment must have been very difficult," she said gently. "I worried about you so much."
Mattheo remained silent.
Still, Isabella continued, as if afraid the silence would swallow them again.
"I often wrote letters to you. Did you receive them?"
She hesitated before adding, almost in a whisper,
"You never replied."
"I wasn't allowed to," Mattheo said at last. "Because of my condition."
"Oh…"
Isabella nodded, accepting the explanation without pressing further.
Silence fell once more—heavier than before.
"Brother…"
"Yes?"
"I'm very happy," she said quietly. "We're finally together again. You're happy too, aren't you?"
Mattheo stared straight ahead.
"Yes."
Isabella smiled faintly.
"I'm glad to hear that."
And yet, for reasons she couldn't explain, that smile felt fragile.