1 In the seventh year of our unconventional union, Arthur Blackwood inherited everything from his deceased elder brother. Including his brother's widow, Eleanor Vance. Each time Arthur had spent the night with Eleanor, he would return to my side, holding me close and whispering reassurances: "Lily, just a little longer. As soon as Eleanor gets pregnant, we'll have our wedding!" This was the sole condition set by his family for him to truly inherit the Blackwood legacy. Back in the Capital City for six months, Arthur had visited Eleanor's rooms fifty-two times. From an initial once a month, it had escalated to nearly every other day. Finally, on the fifty-second night I sat alone until dawn, the news arrived: Eleanor was pregnant. But with it came a second, crushing announcement: Arthur and Eleanor's engagement. "Mommy, is someone in the family getting married?" I looked at the vibrant red decorations plastering the house, mechanically pulling my bewildered son, Leo, into my embrace. "Yes, darling. Daddy is marrying the person he loves, so it's time for us to move." Arthur didn't know that our people, the Highland Matriarchs, never concerned themselves with the confines of traditional marriage. … After tucking Leo into bed, I pulled out my phone to book flights back to the Lake Country. Unfortunately, with the New Year's celebrations over, the rush of returning commuters was immense. The earliest I could book was seven days away. I stared at the date on the ticket, a strange stillness settling over me. February 14th. Valentine's Day. It was also the seventh anniversary of Arthur and my unique arrangement. A cosmic twist of fate, perhaps. I tugged at the corners of my mouth, a bitter smile. Good. Let it begin on that day, and let it end on that day. A thick cloud of gardenia perfume enveloped me from behind. Arthur's gentle voice drifted from above my head. "What are you looking at?" My reflex was to quickly turn off my phone screen. "Just some news about gemstones." In barely six months, the gardenia scent of Eleanor seemed to have permeated Arthur, marinating him. I pushed him away, a flicker of disgust. "Go take a shower before you talk to me." Arthur sniffed himself, a hint of awkwardness. He released me. "I'm going… I've neglected you lately, it's my fault. I won't go to Eleanor's tonight." Eleanor. He called her name with such intimacy. Before, he at least maintained appearances, calling her "Sister Eleanor" in public and private. Now, not even "sister." Anyone unaware would surely think Eleanor was Arthur's wife. The bathroom door abruptly opened. Arthur emerged, trailing steam, wrapped only in a towel. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, a tall, lean physique, still possessing a youthful air rare for a man his age. For a moment, I was transported back seven years, seeing him soaked in the night dew, climbing into my matriarchal home. His face was flushed with triumph, as if he wanted to declare to the world: "Lily, from today, you are mine. For the rest of our lives, we will be one, forever." Seeing me staring at his body, lost in thought, Arthur chuckled heartily, pulling me into a fierce embrace. "Lily, tonight I'm only with you. Nowhere else." The clean scent of citrus mixed with the pervasive gardenia, creating a strange, nauseating aroma. I dropped my gaze, a sense of profound melancholy washing over me. The man before me was no longer the man he once was. A knock at the door shattered my thoughts. "Mr. Blackwood, my lady isn't feeling well. Would you please come see her?" Arthur's expression of impatience was instantly replaced by tension. He hastily pulled on clothes and headed for the door. "What's wrong? Has the family doctor been called?" He took a few steps before realizing something. He turned back, his face apologetic, looking at me leaning against the doorframe. "Eleanor isn't well, I have to go see her. My elder brother is gone; she has no one but me to rely on. I'll be right back, Lily. You're always so understanding." "Understanding." I had endured it for six months, through fifty-two dark nights. Our people, the Highland Matriarchs, uphold a unique tradition. Men and women do not formally marry; men visit the women's homes from dusk until dawn. Arthur, by your customs, I welcomed you as my partner fifty-two times. I spoke softly, "Arthur Blackwood." Arthur's brows furrowed, words of comfort almost spilling out, but he froze, stunned by the sudden weight on his shoulder. I draped a coat over him. "The night air is chilly. Wear this before you go." Arthur clutched the coat on his shoulder, his eyes holding an unreadable expression. "Lily, you…" But before he could fathom the bitter pang in his heart, the guest room door softly closed. Seven days, Arthur. That's all the longer I'll wait for you. 2 As I expected, Arthur did not return that night. Yet, when I touched the cold emptiness of my side of the bed, a familiar pang of sorrow twisted in my chest. Knocks on the door grew louder, more insistent. I pulled open the door to find a Blackwood household staff member, his face etched with disdain. "The matriarch said to bring the child and come to the Blackwood family estate." The Blackwood matriarch had always looked down on me. No matter how many times I explained our unique traditions, she dismissed me as nothing more than a woman of loose morals. Her disdain extended to my son, Leo, as well. With such an attitude from above, the household staff naturally followed suit. Upon arriving at the grand hall of the estate, I found all the Blackwood family elders and kin present. Arthur, who had been gone all night, stood beside Eleanor, a look of tender affection in his eyes. The Blackwood matriarch beamed, her face practically splitting into a grin as she gazed at Eleanor's belly. "Eleanor is finally pregnant. Today, with all the elders present, it's time to fulfill the promise made six months ago!" The most respected elder of the clan stepped forward, publicly announcing Arthur Blackwood as the new head of the family. "Now that the Blackwood line has an heir, let's pick a date and hold the wedding." I looked up, only to see everyone, even Arthur, gazing at Eleanor. Oblivious to the world, he gently stroked Eleanor's belly, his eyes soft. "I'm a father." Not "I'm a father again," but "I'm a father." A bitter ache seized my heart, and I clenched my fist tighter. Leo's weak voice echoed through the hall. "Mommy, it hurts." I quickly loosened my grip. My son's small hand was bright red. "Mommy's sorry, Mommy will kiss it better for you, Leo…" My son's single remark drew the attention of everyone in the hall. The elder frowned. "If news of the Blackwood family head having a child out of wedlock were to spread, the family's reputation would be ruined." "Just a bastard born of a loose woman," Arthur's mother sneered, glancing at me. "From now on, we'll say this child is from a distant branch of the Blackwood family, raised here on the estate." Arthur's mother disliked me, and that dislike extended to Leo. It had been her idea to use Arthur dividing his attention between two women as leverage for him to secure his position as head of the family. Now that Eleanor was pregnant, Leo naturally became even more disposable. Arthur released Eleanor's hand. "Mother, isn't that going too far?" He started to walk toward me but was subtly pulled back by Eleanor. I saw it clearly. Taking Leo's hand, I walked to Arthur's mother. "As you wish. From now on, Leo will no longer be Arthur Blackwood's son." I knelt before Leo, my eyes red, and explained to him. "Darling, from now on, you can't call him 'Daddy.' You must call him 'Mr. Blackwood,' do you understand?" Arthur froze. He knew that for the past six months, my presence here was largely due to Leo. He searched my eyes for a hint of reluctance, a flicker of unwillingness. But he found none. A small child couldn't grasp the complexities of the situation. His little face was tear-streaked and red. I quickly led Leo away, but Eleanor's voice stopped us. "Miss Hayes, I hear purple jade is best for pregnancy. Arthur searched for days and couldn't find any, but you seem to have a piece! Would you consider parting with it?" 3 "Arthur Blackwood, is this your wish too?" I looked at the hickeys exposed on Eleanor's neck as she tilted her head back. A thousand tiny needles pricked my heart, a sharp, lingering pain. That purple jade pendant was our token of commitment. We had met at a gemstone expo in the Lake Country, both drawn to the same piece of purple jade. On the day of our informal ceremony, Arthur had personally braided a cord and tied the jade around my neck, promising a lifetime as a devoted pair. I knew Eleanor coveted it; she had asked Arthur for it more than once, and he had refused. But this time, he averted his gaze, his eyes filled with hesitation and guilt. "Perhaps you should…" "Fine." I scoffed, ripping the purple jade from my neck and placing it in Eleanor's hand. Watching Eleanor gleefully put it on, I remarked, "It truly is a perfect match." Then, under Arthur's startled gaze, I picked up Leo and walked away. Back at the villa, Leo was still sobbing uncontrollably, gasping for breath. I stifled my own heartache, holding his small hand and asking him, "Leo, if Mommy wants to take you away from here, will you come with Mommy?" Leo's tears flowed even faster. "Mommy, can't we stay?" "But Leo, Daddy and Grandmother don't want us here. Do you want to call him 'Mr. Blackwood' forever?" I held back my tears, looking at my son gently. Selfishly, I wished he would only be my child, favoring me unconditionally. But that wasn't realistic. Leo clutched the Lego set in his arms, Arthur's birthday gift from last year. "Mommy, I want to celebrate my birthday with Daddy one more time… can I?" The child stubbornly refused to change his words. I closed my eyes, pulling him into a hug, and nodded. "Alright." … February 12th was Leo's birthday. I had deliberately reminded Arthur two days in advance, urging him to prepare. This might be the last birthday my son would celebrate with him. I hoped Leo would get his wish. On his birthday, Leo woke up early, put on his little suit, and nervously asked me, "Mommy, Daddy will come to Leo's birthday party, right?" "He'll definitely be there," I whispered, comforting my son, and sent a text to Arthur: "It's our son's birthday today. Where are you?" The message vanished without a trace, like a stone dropped into a bottomless well. Leo lowered his head, clutching the ribbon on the cake box. "Daddy's not coming, is he?" After a long moment, he seemed to come to a realization, comforting himself. "It's okay. Mr. Blackwood is busy. We won't bother him. Mommy, let's eat the cake." This was the first time my son had called Arthur "Mr. Blackwood." He seemed to be slowly accepting that his father didn't truly care for him. But his trembling lips and reddened eyes betrayed his sadness. Watching my son pretend to be strong, the suffocating ache in my heart ignited, burning, clawing at my very soul. I picked up my phone and opened Arthur's chat. "You don't even have time for your son's birthday? Do you really love Eleanor so much, wanting to be by her side every moment?" My finger hovered over the send button, not pressing it for a long time. Just then, a new message popped up in the chat: "Come to the Blackwood family estate."
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