The window was opened wide, allowing the sunlight to stream in and cast a warm glow that bathed every corner in its soft illumination. As its company, the refreshing breeze poured in, dancing through.
In his room, the morning light screened through cream-colored curtains, its arrival accompanied by the calming rustle of nearby trees.
But for Mikael, this bright morning was shadowed by the news of his sister Mikayla's unexpected elopement with a lover, whose name he had never heard of.
His heart felt heavy as he learned about it from the head maid. Now, he faced the daunting task of discussing this matter with their father. What was he supposed to say to him? What would his father expect something of him, when he, too, had no answer?
'Why?' was the question in his head.
Did she think he would not help her? Mikael would never hesitate to offer his unwavering support to his twin sister.Â
Gazing at the teapot on the table, memories flooded Mikael's mind of the countless tea sessions he and his twin sister had shared together.
This morning was meant to be no different, a time for their usual morning tea ritual, where they would share their thoughts and dreams with each other. But everything had changed.
Maids flitted about, assisting him with dressing to meet his father. Gazing at his reflection in the mirror, Mikael saw the sadness in his eyes, an emotion he struggled to conceal.
Mikael's hair, a signature of the Steele family, was a striking shade of white that symbolized their noble lineage. It parted him from his sister, Mikayla, who had a touch of silver in her lustrous locks.
His hair cascaded in fluffy waves, with subtle curls gracing the locks that framed his face. He had an uncanny resemblance with his twin, save for the mole nestled beneath the inner corner of his right eye.
He couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal, as Mikayla had kept this matter from him. However, even though he felt hurt and puzzled, Mikael understood that he had to be there for his sister.
Sensing Mikael's emotions, the maids offered comforting smiles and encouraging words, lending him the strength to face his father.
"We are done, my lord," the head maid bowed respectfully, and the other maids left the room discreetly. "Should I inform the head butler that you are ready, my lord?" she inquired.
Mikael nodded as he put on his cufflinks; the head maid left him alone.
As he adjusted his attire, straightening the crisp lines of his suit. With his appearance finally complete, Mikael took a deep breath, trying to collect his emotions.
Mikael was aware that the forthcoming meeting with his father would not be easy. Damn that, it would be hella tough. But no matter their father's reaction, Mikael would stand by Mikayla's side.
With a sigh, Mikael stepped out of his room to see his father. By the moment he opened the door to leave, he was greeted by the head butler, Remus, who was a distinguished man with a neatly trimmed mustache and gray hair that spoke decades of service to the Steele family.
Remus gave a curt nod before following behind Mikael. The corridor felt unnaturally long, his mind wrestling with the words he would use to face their father.
"I will give that girl a long lecture to remember when she gets back home," Mikael grumbled, his voice frustrated.
"Haha," the old head butler let out a hearty chuckle. "Well then, my lady will have a whole day of sermons from you and your father," he playfully quipped, bringing spirit into the tense moment.
Mikael couldn't help but laugh a bit in response to the head butler's jest. It offered a brief moment of levity amid the situation, like a touch of comfort as he grappled with his storming emotions.
"She better not get caught," Mikael replied, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
As they continued down the corridor, Mikael felt reassured by Mister Remus' presence. Though he was an employee of the household, he had become a trusted confidant to Mikael and Mikayla over the years, offering guidance and a listening ear whenever needed.
Mikael took a moment to stop as he walked along the corridor. He drew his gaze to the nearby window, looking at the sky.
'Should you run away, dear sister, then better be certain no one catches you.'
âŚ
Mikael's heart raced as he approached the heavy wooden door of his father's study. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself before he knocked firmly.
"Come in," his father's voice called from the other side.
The door creaked open, and Mikael stepped into the room. The study had shelves leaning against the wall filled with books.
His father, Count Atlas Steele, sat behind a large oak desk, basking in the warm sunlight on his weathered face. His gaze met Mikael's as soon as he entered.
"What is this talk of Mikayla's elopement?" his father asked with a tone of seriousness. "Where is your sister?"
Mikael took a moment to collect his thoughts before addressing his father, "Father, I learned about it just this morning, as you did."
"...That stupid girl." Count Atlas let out a deep sigh, disappointment etched across his face. "She should have known better than to keep something like this from us! This isn't just about her; it also affects our family's name!"
Frustration gnawed at his father, the lines of his face etched with anger as he stood up abruptly from his seat, towering over the large oak desk. His eyes flashed with anger, and his jaw clenched tightly.
"This has utterly shattered my agreement with Marquess Wolfram! Do you know that?" His nose flared as he spoke, "Can she even comprehend, even a fucking tiny bit of her brain, the gravity of her actions?!"
Mikael waited for the storm of anger to subside before speaking, trying to maintain a sense of composure in the face of his father's wrath.
"I understand your frustration, Father," Mikael started, "but Mikayla made her choice, and we must respect it. She deserves to find her own happiness."
Mikael stood his belief and continued, "And she did tell you that she never wanted to marry Marquess Wolfram in the first placeâ"
However, before he could finish his sentence, Count Atlas slammed his fist on the desk with such force that it created a resounding bang, causing Mikael to startle involuntarily.
"What face will I show him, huh? This is a fucking disgrace, Mikael!" his father thundered, his voice echoing through the room. "Find her! Find that foolish girl!"
Mikael met his father's gaze, whose anger burned fiercely. He clenched his hands into fists tightly, summoning the courage to say, "No."
"Come again?" Atlas questioned, doubting his ears.
Count Atlas walked, approaching his son, who did not look away from his gaze. "Mikael, you will find your sister and bring her back immediately," he demanded, his voice carrying the weight of his authority.
Mikael's mind raced, torn between his love for his sister and his loyalty to his father. He knew that defying his father's command would come with consequences, possibly even tearing his family apart.
"I can't do that. I won't, Father," Mikael replied.
"You dare defy me, Mikael?" his father rumbled, his face red with fury.
"I am not defying you, Father," Mikael said calmly, trying to keep his emotions in check. "I am standing by my sister, supporting her in her choices."
"This is a stain on our family's honor!" his father roared, unable to accept Mikael's reasoning.
"I understand your concerns, Father, but Mikayla is my sister, and I will put my sister first more than anything," Mikael expressed firmly.
Atlas' anger seemed to subside slightly, replaced by gloom. Even so, he managed to paint a sad smile on his lips. "You have always been so loyal to this family, Mikael. I never thought you would choose your sister over our reputation."
The room fell into an uneasy silence as both father and son stood their ground. Despite the tension, Mikael could sense his father's inner struggle.
Exhausted from the intense confrontation, Atlas sighed deeply, showing signs of weariness. "Very well, Mikael. Follow your heart and do what you believe is right. But keep in mind that your actions will have consequences, not just for you, but for our family as well."
Returning to his desk, he settled into his seat. With his back facing Mikael, he muttered enough for his son's ears to hear, "We are to meet Marquess Wolfram's secretary at noon. You may take your leave."
With those parting words, Mikael turned away and departed the study, leaving his father behind in contemplative silence.