ZOE

CHAPTER 7

As soon as she arrived “home,” Zoe handed Kiara over to their stable boy and rushed toward her room. She didn’t bother to change, didn’t comb her hair, didn’t even take off her shoes. She just ran — breath trembling, heart tight — until she reached her bed.

There, she collapsed, face buried in the pillow, and cried.

Helplessly. Hopelessly. Devastated. Regretful.

Tears came like waves she couldn’t stop, soaking the fabric beneath her. She cried as if her soul had been waiting for this moment of release, as if all the disappointments, the losses, the quiet aches she’d carried finally demanded to be seen.

Today was supposed to be beautiful — a day she thought she’d spend with the people who mattered most. But as the hours unfolded, reality hit her: there weren’t many of them left. Almost no one.

Only her father…

Alice, with whom she had grown surprisingly close…

and her mother — the one person she’d never thought she’d seek comfort from.

For years, she had believed that being near her mother only deepened her pain. Yet now, it was different. Now, she found herself grateful that there was at least one place — one person — she could still run to.

A soft knock interrupted her sobs.

“Come in,” she said faintly, brushing a tear from her cheek.

The door opened, and to her surprise, Mark stepped in. Her heart gave a small jolt. She hadn’t expected him — not here, not now.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice cautious, unsteady.

Mark didn’t answer immediately. His eyes lingered on her — the redness around them, the tear-stained cheeks, the quiet defeat in her posture.

When Zoe noticed his gaze, she quickly wiped at her face with her sleeve. It did little to hide the evidence, but at least it gave her something to do — some tiny act of control.

“I have some work to do here,” Mark finally said, his voice restrained. “And I wanted to ask you a few things.”

“Go ahead,” Zoe replied softly. “But don’t stare at me like that. I know I look like a ghost right now — please, don’t make it harder for me.”

Mark hesitated, then asked, “Did you tell your father about me… kidnapping you?” His voice carried a strange mix of certainty and humility, as if he already feared the answer.

Zoe looked up at him, eyes weary but honest. “No. I didn’t. Though maybe I should have. But I think it’s better if you tell him yourself. That way, you can at least explain your side.”

“Thank you, miss,” he said quietly, his tone tinged with surprise. He had expected anger, not understanding.

“And there’s one more thing I wanted to ask,” he continued after a pause. “Why did you thank me and then wave? I… I don’t know what to make of that.”

Zoe’s gaze softened. “Think whatever you want,” she said. “I did it because I felt like it. And believe me, I’d do it again. In the six months I’ve been here, I’ve learned a lot — and whether you realize it or not, I owe part of that to you.” Her calmness, steady and quiet, reminded him of Ellen.

Mark stood silent, confused. The same girl who once kept him at arm’s length, whose eyes once burned with defiance, was now thanking him — sincerely. It didn’t make sense, yet somehow, it did. Something in her had shifted.

He found himself watching her, his thoughts tangled and restless.

Zoe noticed and turned away, pretending to busy herself by arranging her clothes — a small attempt to feel normal again before her mother returned.

“Do you want anything else?” she asked, not meeting his eyes.

“No. Nothing. Goodbye.”

He left.

Zoe continued rummaging through the closet, but her mind was miles away. Thoughts blurred, memories looped. She reached for a dress and accidentally hit her head on the edge of the wardrobe.

“Ouch!” she cried out, clutching the spot. The pain stung sharply, but oddly, it was a relief — something real, something simpler than everything else weighing on her. She sighed, forcing herself to focus on the evening ahead. There was still dinner… and the party.

When dinner came, Zoe went to the dining room. The room was quiet — too quiet. The food was already served, still steaming faintly.

She sat down.

She told herself she wouldn’t wait for anyone.

So she began to eat.

But the food might as well have been dust. She didn’t taste it, didn’t smell it. Her hands moved, her lips chewed, but she felt nothing. When the plate was empty, she stood and returned to her room.

She tried reading, but after five minutes, she realized she was staring at the same page. The words swam before her eyes, meaningless.

Closing the book, she changed into her nightgown, crawled into bed, and let exhaustion pull her under.

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Morning light slipped through the curtains, but it didn’t bring warmth. Zoe tried to act normal — she even forced a small smile at breakfast — but inside, everything felt wrong.

She fidgeted with her spoon, pushing food around her plate but not eating.

“What’s going on, Zoe?” Ellen’s voice cut through the silence, stern but not unkind.

“Nothing, Mom,” she muttered. “I just… remembered something.”

Ellen eyed her for a long moment, then sighed and returned to her meal. “When you stop fidgeting during breakfast, come to my office,” she said firmly.

Zoe only nodded, pretending to understand, though her mind was a blur.

Later, she walked slowly to the study. She didn’t bother knocking; she just went in.

“Didn’t I teach you to knock?” Ellen’s tone was sharp, almost annoyed.

Zoe didn’t answer. She simply sat down and folded her hands. “What do you want to talk to me about?”

“Your birthday,” Ellen said, her voice softening slightly. “The celebration will last all day. I’ve invited several of my friends — influential ones. Their children will be there too, mostly sons, but some daughters. You need a distraction, Zoe. You haven’t been yourself lately.”

Zoe’s lips twitched in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “I’m always on time,” she said, perhaps a little too quickly, then stood and left before her mother could say more.

In her room, she exhaled. What will they come up with for me this time? she wondered. And what else awaits me?

She didn’t have long to think. Alice burst in, eyes wide with panic.

“Zoe! I’m in trouble — a big one!”

“What happened?! Speak!”

“I forgot to tell Mrs. Ellen that an important visitor is coming — in about two hours! And now it’s almost time! She’s going to kill me!” Alice’s voice trembled, desperate.

Zoe straightened. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle it. You go to the kitchen — tell the others to prepare something quick but elegant. Make it look luxurious, and make sure it tastes good.”

Before Alice could even thank her, Zoe was already out the door, nearly running to her mother’s study.

“Mum!” she called, breathless. “Guests are coming — in about half an hour!”

Ellen looked up, startled, then surprisingly calm. “Don’t worry. We’ll manage. Go change your clothes, do your hair and makeup. I’ll do the same. Tell the kitchen to hurry. And remember, be polite when they arrive. Today’s lesson is canceled.”

“The food’s already being prepared,” Zoe added quickly.

“Good. Now go — don’t waste time,” Ellen ordered.

Zoe hurried off, choosing a sky-blue dress that brought a touch of softness to her tired face. She styled her hair into a graceful bun, added light makeup, and took one long, steadying breath. For a moment, as she looked in the mirror, she almost recognized herself again.

Outside, the rhythmic sound of horseshoes on pavement echoed. The guests had arrived.

Peeking through the window, she saw two men step out of the carriage — one older, one younger. The younger looked about nineteen, the older around her mother’s age.

Moments later, Alice appeared. “The lady sent me for you. The guests are in the living room — she wants to introduce you.”

“Alright, I’m coming,” Zoe said softly.

She knocked, then entered the living room.

“Good day,” she greeted, her voice poised, graceful — almost the way her mother had taught her.

The men rose politely.

“Gentlemen,” Ellen began, “this is my daughter, Zoe. Zoe, this is Mr. Erik Farmer,” she gestured to the elder man, “and this is his son, Alexander.”

Zoe gave them a curtsy, her heart fluttering with unease. The silence that followed felt long, almost deliberate.

“Zoe,” Ellen continued, “Mr. Farmer has come to make me a very good — an excellent — offer. He would be honored if our families were united.”

Zoe froze. Her chest tightened. No… that can’t be… he wouldn’t marry me off without asking, would he?

“What do you say, dear?” Ellen’s gaze was firm, almost expectant.

“I… I don’t know,” Zoe whispered. “I wasn’t expecting this. I should be prepared for such an offer, but I’m not. It surprised me.”

Mr. Farmer smiled kindly. “That’s understandable. We haven’t come at the best time. I also heard you’re celebrating your birthday. May I congratulate you?”

His voice — deep, steady, warm — reminded her a little of her father’s. It comforted her, just a little.

“You heard right,” Zoe replied, forcing a small smile. “I’m celebrating tomorrow. And I’d be honored if you both attended.”

Mr. Farmer nodded. “We’d be delighted. And regarding the engagement — there’s no rush. Take your time to think it through, talk with your mother, and let us know. Whatever your decision, we’ll respect it.”

He smiled again — the kind of polite smile that made her wonder how much of it was genuine.

Alexander remained quiet throughout, only observing. He hadn’t wanted to come in the first place. The idea of marrying Zoe felt absurd — until he saw her. And in that instant, something changed. He realized that walking away from this arrangement might be a mistake.

“Alright then,” Ellen said cheerfully, already satisfied. “Zoe will give you her answer at the celebration.”

Zoe said nothing. She stood, curtsied again, and excused herself.

Once back in her room, she collapsed onto the bed, her thoughts storming. Outside, the sound of hooves faded again. The guests were gone — leaving behind the echo of an unexpected promise she hadn’t asked for, and a decision she wasn’t ready to make