One quiet afternoon, Mirha finally decided to go to the pavilion by the eastern lake.
She walked the winding garden path alone, her white mourning robes brushing the grass. When she reached the pavilion, she found only another fresh bouquet of tulips waiting on the stone table — white and soft pink, arranged with care. No one was there.
She stood still for a long moment, fingers brushing the delicate petals.
"Maybe he has left the place," she whispered to herself. "Maybe he will be there tomorrow."
She picked up the flowers gently and turned to walk back toward the palace.
Halfway along the path, she met him.
Lord Vharin stood a respectful distance away. He was dressed in simple dark robes, his face lined with age and quiet sorrow. When their eyes met, he bowed deeply — not as a lord to a consort, but as a father to a daughter he had never been allowed to claim openly.
Mirha stopped. She did not recognize him at first, then she saw him. She had heard he had been very helpful during the landslide — organizing aid and search efforts for the people of Bukid.
She offered a small, polite bow. "Lord Vharin. It has been a long time since we last met."
Vharin nodded, slightly nervous. "Yes… indeed it has."
Mirha continued, her voice gentle. "I would like to personally thank you for everything you did for the people during the landslide. I heard you also tried to save my mother. It means a great deal."
Vharin paused, then asked softly, "Can we sit?"
Mirha, still clueless, nodded. "Of course."
They walked back to the pavilion and sat on the stone bench. Mirha spoke first.
"I really appreciate all you did for my mother. Thank you, my lord."
Vharin shook his head slowly. "Truly, I did it all for myself."
Mirha smiled, a little confused.
Vharin continued, voice quiet and full of memory.
"When I met your mother for the first time, she was laughing hard by the riverside with some children. I don't remember them so much, but I do remember hiding from her. Launi was not going to let me hide in peace. She waited until the children left and called me out. Of course, she had no idea who I was, and I had no plans of telling her either. I lied and said I was lost. She gave me directions, which intrigued me because she was blind, yet she knew her way around."
He paused, eyes distant.
"I went home that night, and little did I know that one conversation would live in my mind for a long while. I found myself going back to that place every day. She was there. I would ask her for different locations, and sometimes she would take me, other times she would just give directions. My favorite times were when she took me. It became my new home — her laughter, her smiles, her jokes… and then her."
Vharin's voice softened further.
"We turned into lovers. And then you came along. To me and her, you were our reflection. Our mirror."
He reached for a small wooden box that had been sitting on the table.
"This is every letter I wrote to both you and your mother — the ones she returned," he said, sliding the box toward her. "Launi told me to give them to you if anything ever happened to her."
Mirha took the box with trembling hands.
Vharin reached into his pocket and brought out a delicate necklace.
"She told me to get rid of all the other gifts, but this one… she said you would love it. So I kept it."
Mirha took the necklace, fingers tracing the simple design.
Then she asked the question that had been burning inside her.
"Why now?"
Vharin's eyes filled with quiet sorrow.
"Because you are the only piece of her I have left. And I can't let it go. I feel like I let her down by not being there for her enough. I wish I had said no to her a couple of times… but with her, that word never existed. And that led to my demise."
He looked at her with raw honesty.
"I will never ask you to accept me as your father. But I hope you allow me to exist in your world."
Mirha stared at him. The garden, the flowers, the distant sound of water — everything blurred.
Then the tears came.
Not from anger.
Not from sadness.
Not from joy.
Just tears.
They spilled silently down her cheeks at first, then faster, until her shoulders began to shake. She didn't sob loudly. She simply cried — a deep, wordless release of everything she had been carrying: the years of wondering, the quiet resentment, the love she never got to give or receive from a father, the ache of losing her mother, and the strange, painful relief of finally knowing the man who had loved them both from the shadows.
Vharin sat perfectly still, giving her the space to feel it all.
Mirha didn't speak. She just let the tears fall, hands clasped tightly in her lap, the wooden box and necklace resting beside her.
After a long while, the crying slowed. She wiped her face with the back of her hand and looked at him again, eyes red and swollen but clearer than before.
"It's getting late," she said softly, voice hoarse.
She stood and bowed. Vharin rose and bowed in return.
Before she turned to leave, Mirha paused and said quietly, "Whatever you and Mama had was yours and hers. I have no right to question my parents' judgment."
She added, almost to herself, "Take care."
Then she walked away, the wooden box and necklace clutched tightly in her hands, tears still drying on her cheeks.
The garden felt both heavier and lighter at the same time.
------>
That evening, Mirha placed the wooden box beside the mirror and did not open it.
She took a long bath, ate her dinner in silence, and then sat by the window, staring out at the darkening garden. The tulips from her father still sat on the table, their petals soft in the lamplight.
A soft knock came at the door. Yadid entered, bowing respectfully.
"My lady, are you alright?"
Mirha turned her head slightly and gave a small nod. "I am. Thank you."
Yadid hesitated, then said gently, "I heard you met your father today. How was it?"
Mirha was quiet for a long moment. Then she answered honestly, voice soft.
"I don't know. I don't know how to feel about it. I feel like I don't know him enough to react."
Yadid glanced at the unopened box on the table, then back at her.
"Do you want to know him… or not?"
Mirha looked down at her hands. "I don't know."
Yadid offered a small, kind smile. "Take your time. You will know soon enough."
He paused, then added, "I have news from the imperial wing. Lord Kaisen and Yuma got married."
Mirha's lips curved into a small, genuine smile. "How lovely."
Yadid bowed. "Good night, my lady."
Mirha took a deep breath as the door closed behind him. She sat there a little longer, then rose and went to bed.
She lay in the dark, eyes open, staring at the ceiling for a long time before sleep finally claimed her.