Jerry's eyes were fixed on the baby as he stalked tossed her, heavy steps echoing through the room. He reached out, yanked the baby from her arms, and without a word, turned and marched out, heading towards the door.
The sound of commotion outside drew Agatha's mother from her quarters. She rushed to the scene, heard her daughter fall out, "Jerry, what are you doing?" she stopped in her tracks, when she saw Agatha running after her husband, who was clutching the baby. A grim look passed over her face, and she followed them.
Dydra's cries pierced the cold night aur. Jerry, his body trembling with rage, headed toward the stream. Without a second thought, he threw the baby into the water.
"AHHH!" Agatha screamed, her voice raw with panic as she rushed toward the stream, desperate to save the child. But before she could reach the water, a firm hand grabbed her, pulling her back. Jerry hoisted her onto his shoulders, ignoring her struggles as she kicked and hit him. His eyes were cold, void of any emotion she could recognize. She fought to free herself, but he didn't budge.
With Agatha still on his shoulders, Jerry walked back toward the house, slamming the door behind him. He locked it, then left.
Agatha mother, frantic with fear, managed to rescue baby Dydra that night. She hurried to Agatha and told her she would raise the child in the forest hut to keep her safe.
A week later, Jerry returned, apologizing to his wife but offering ni explanation. Agatha kept the secret of the baby's survival, visiting the forest hut whenever Jerry was away.
Eight years passed, ad tragedy struck. Agatha's mother died unexpectedly. She had arrived at the forest hut as usual, bearing gifts, unaware that this would be her last visit. Agatha found her mother lying on the couch, weak and tearful, with young Dydra beside her.
As her mother took her last breaths, she whispered to Agatha, "Take this dear," squeezing the locket that had been found in Dydra's hands when they first found her. "Never let her wear it in public." Her voice was faint, but she pointed toward a collection of old books on the desk. "Give her those to. My dear, child," she said to young Dydra, whose head rested in her lap, "you are full of winder. You're supernatural. Listen to my dear Agatha." And with that, the old woman's final breath escaped her.
—
Agatha was smiling as she finished the intricate hairstyle she had just done for Dydra. Her daughter's hair was tied in a rose-like bun, with strands framing her face.
Dydra gazed at her reflection, her palms pressed against her lips. She had never imagined herself to be this beautiful. Her dark skin seemed to give her blue eyes an ethereal glow, making her feel like a princess straight out of a fairytale. Slowly, she removed her hands, reaching to touch her hair. Agatha's shark eyes caught this movement, and she gently slapped her hand away. "No touching," she warned softly, then smiled. "Now, get up. Choose your style, Your Highness."
Dydra stood up eagerly, her eyes falling in a purple gown with diamonds sewn into the hem and neckline. Agatha helped her put it on.
"Ouch," Dydra winced as Agatha tightened the corset. "Beauty is pain, my love," Agatha teased.
"I can't breath," Dydra's face contorted.
"Done," Agatha declared, and Dydra stiffly made her way to the mirror. She gasped when she saw her reflection. Agatha, standing behind her, wore a proud smile, softly patting herself on her back.
The dress was a knee-length off-shoulder lace number. Dydra spun around, earning a delighted giggle from her adopted mother.
"We could try others," Agatha said with a smile. They changed through several dresses — blue, yellow, baby pink — before settling on a dark, sleeveless, full-length gown with dark diamonds on the corset. Dydra swirled, noticing the side slit.
"My goodness, black on black. You look like the devil's bride," Agatha joked affectionately, her eyes filled with love. The dress fit Dydra perfectly, highlighting her hair and eyes even more.
"I have just the thing to make it perfect,"Agatha said, grinning with excitement. She rushed to her wardrobe and emerged holding a small jelwery box. "Here, try this," she said, handing it to Dydra.
Dydra opened the box, her heart skipping a beat when she saw the locket. She took it out, and Agatha helped her put it on.
A soft gasp escaped Dydra's lips as the golden heart-shaped locket completed her look, as delicate and stunning as a veil on a wedding dress.
"Oh my goodness!" Agatha exclaimed, gazing at her adopted daughter in awe. "You look like a queen."
Dydra's fingers gently caressed the locket, and suddenly, she pulled Agatha into a tight hug. Agatha, a bit started, wrapped her arms around her.
"My dear," she whispered, rubbing Dydra's back.
Unbeknownst to them, a carriage pulled up in front of the mansion, and Jerry stepped out. His pleasant smile faded as he heard voices from the room. His brow furrowed in confusion as he wondered why his wife had company in their private space. He reached the door and softly turned the knob, pushing it open.
The sight of Agatha's smile faltered as she whispered, "Jerry?" Her heart raced. Why was he home so early? Did he forget something?
Dydra's body tensed as she turned to meet his gaze. Her blue eyes locked with his brown ones, and she felt a lump rise in her throat. She parted her lips to speak, but no words came.