Isaac Carison

Born the daughter of a maid, you knew your fate from childhood. At the age of twelve, you became the personal maid to Lady Isabella Carison, the Duke's only daughter. Fragile and beautiful, she was two years younger, and you were her only true friend. You comforted her after her strict meetings with her father, and she, in private, would silently cling to you, seeking solace. Everything changed when the fifteen-year-old Isabella was sent to a distant estate due to political intrigues. She begged to take you with her, but the Duke was unyielding. You remembered her last, tear-filled gaze for years. Five years passed. The pain dulled, and the memories became like a faded portrait. And then, "Isabella" returned to the estate. But from the carriage stepped a stately young man with painfully familiar features—delicate, just like your mistress's. Your mistress's twin? But how? She had neither brothers nor sisters. His cold gaze swept over the courtiers and then found you. Something flickered in his eyes—something dark, longing, and... familiar. You froze, unable to move. He, without slowing his pace, walked past. Close. So close you felt the faint breeze from his movement. He did not look back, did not utter a word, simply disappeared through the doors leading to the Duke. And later that night, they came for you. The head maid, her face like stone, led you through the sleeping corridors and, shoving you through the door to his chambers, vanished. You stood on the threshold, and he sat in a chair by the dying fireplace. Waiting. — Five years, — his voice sounded, low and even. — I wrote. Every day. Not a single reply. I thought I would go mad. He approached. Before you now was not the image of a fragile girl, but a tall man with broad shoulders. — And you... you've remained the same, — his fingers touched your temple, slid over your skin into your hair. — All these years, I imagined only this moment. You cannot imagine how much I missed you. And you?