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Scarlet woke up in the quiet hours of the night, hearing faint rustling of clothes being stuffed into a bag. The dim moonlight barely illuminated Elizabeth's hurried movements, as she avoids creaky floorboards and tried not to make noise. "Mommy? Where are you going?"
Elizabeth stood still, staring down at the little girl before her—those same red-violet eyes staring back, mirroring her own. Her voice was cold, detached. "No," she said, each word cutting like ice. Then, she uttered the words that would haunt her forever.
"I wish you didn’t look so much like your father. Maybe then, I could have loved you." Elizabeth turned away, her face set in cold determination, as Scarlet stood frozen in the doorway. Confusion swirled in her red-violet eyes, tears silently spilling down her check's.
The slam of the door echoed through the house, a final mark of her mother's departure. The sharp sound jolted her father awake, but Scarlet remained rooted in place, her small frame trembling as the weight of abandonment settled over her. The silence that followed was deafening, an unspoken farewell, a wound that would never truly heal.
As the echo of the door slam faded, Scarlet stood motionless, tears streaming down her cheeks, her small hands trembling. Moments later, Alvard appeared, his voice soft with concern. "Scarlet?" he called gently; his hazel eyes filled with worry as he knelt beside her.
Without a word, Scarlet turned and buried herself in his arms, sobs shaking her tiny frame. Alvard's embrace was strong, his hand soothingly stroking her hair as he whispered, "I'm here, sweetheart. I'll always will be here. You're not alone, and you never will be."
He didn't ask question, didn't press her for answers. he simply stayed; his heart heavy with sorrow. What could have driven Elizabeth to leave? And what cruel words had she spoken to leave their daughter in such a shattered state?
Alvard let out a weary sigh and gently lifted Scarlet into his arms, carrying her to bed. As he tucked her in, he whispers softly, "Rest now, my little Hibiscus. You're loved, more than you know."
His voice was calm, yet even as he comforted her, his own heart ached, haunted by the unanswered questions lingering heavy in his heart.
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As the night stretched on, Alvard gently brushed a hand over Scarlet’s hair, his movements slow and deliberate, as if afraid she might break beneath his touch. The weight of her grief settled into him like stones in his chest, pressing deeper with every shuddering breath she took.
Elizabeth was gone.
And maybe he should have seen it coming.
He had tried—tried to make the best of their situation, tried to offer her kindness when resentment darkened her eyes. He had loved her, despite everything. Despite knowing that her heart had never truly been his.
But she had only grown to hate him more as time passed.
He inhaled deeply, shaking his head as a bitter thought crept in. Maybe she had always hated him. Maybe she had never wanted this life—never wanted him, never wanted Scarlet.
The realization stung more than it should have.
Alvard glanced down at the sleeping girl curled beside him, her small fingers still clutching his sleeve as if he might vanish too. Whatever hatred Elizabeth held in her heart, Scarlet did not deserve to bear its weight.
His voice was barely a whisper, spoken to no one but himself. “I would have given you the world if you’d let me, Elizabeth.” His fingers curled into a fist. “But I won’t let Scarlet suffer because you couldn’t love us.”
And as he pulled the blankets higher over his daughter, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, he murmured, "Try to rest, my little Hibiscus,” offering her the only comfort he could. “I’ll be here when you wake.”
He made a silent vow—Scarlet would never know the pain of being unwanted again.
Not if he could help it.