"Miss, it's time for your medicine."
A middle-aged maid walked quietly into the room and approached the woman seated beside the window, where blue roses bloomed across the garden outside. When the woman turned around, the calm yet quietly resilient face revealed itself to be Lydia, the woman the world believed had already died.
Lydia smiled faintly. "Martha."
"Yes, Miss." Martha handed her the bowl of medicine with familiar tenderness. "Drink it while it's still warm. I'll make chicken soup for you later."
Lydia thanked her softly and drank the medicine without hesitation. Even now, she still swallowed it the same clean, decisive way she had as a child, which only made Martha's heart ache more. As soon as Lydia finished, Martha quickly fed her a piece of preserved fruit and gently patt
