Lament for My First Life

Reflections of a Father

The sweet scent of chocolate filled the dining hall of the Winter Estate, blending with the warmth of the flickering candlelight. The long mahogany table gleamed under the chandelier as Xylenne sat at the far end, legs swinging beneath her chair, her cheeks puffed as she stuffed yet another bite of cake into her mouth.

She was radiant, crumbs on her face, joy in her eyes, and laughter that made the old walls of the house feel alive again.

"Slow down," Zephyros said from across the table, his voice half amused and half scolding. "You'll choke or feel sick if you keep eating like that."

Xylenne shook her head quickly, her mouth still full. "But it's so good!" she managed between bites.

He sighed. "You have no self-control when it comes to sweets, do you?"

Ignoring his comment, she suddenly perked up. "Oh yeah! I forgot to tell you! My professor, he's a mage! And he has white hair and blue eyes just like me!"

Zephyros froze mid-sip of his tea.

Xylenne's eyes sparkled with excitement as she continued, "I was so baffled when I saw him! He looked so pretty!"

Zephyros slowly lowered his cup, staring at her in disbelief. "...Pretty?" he repeated flatly. "Yes!" Xylenne said, her face lighting up. "He was—"

"Pretty!?" Zephyros interrupted, his voice rising an octave as panic set in. "You're only seven! You're not supposed to think your professor is pretty!"

Xylenne blinked, confused, her fork halfway to her mouth. "It's not like that!" she protested quickly. "I just, I've never seen anyone who looks like me before! It surprised me, that's all. And he even praised me today!"

Zephyros frowned, still flustered. "Praised you? But, don't I already do that?" Xylenne giggled. "You do! But I'm just telling you about today. His hair was so much longer than mine, too! It was really shiny!" Zephyros rubbed his temple with one ink-stained hand. "Just... focus on your studies," he muttered, trying to calm the rising storm of paternal panic. "Don't go around befriending just anybody, understand?"

"Yeah, I know," she said with a grin. "But it's important to network! These are kids from noble families — dukes, lords, maybe even royal connections. I haven't met a prince yet, though. I wish I did." Zephyros groaned loudly and slumped in his chair. "Ah... I'm starting to regret enrolling you in the academy."

"Huh? Why?"

"Because," he said, dropping his forehead against the table with a soft thunk, "you're growing up too fast. You're seven, but you talk like a miniature politician." Xylenne laughed, taking another bite of cake. "I told you, I need to start early if I want a big future!"

He turned his head slightly to watch her, the way she smiled so freely, the sparkle of determination in her small blue eyes.

This must be what fathers feel, he thought. When they send their children off to school for the first time.

For a brief, fleeting second, his mind wandered to a memory that wasn't supposed to hurt anymore, the sound of a little girl's laughter that no longer echoed in these halls. He looked at Xylenne again, her white hair catching the candlelight, her small hands clumsily cutting another piece of cake, and the warmth in his chest was quickly swallowed by something cold and painful.

If she had lived long enough... to go to school, to smile like that... would I have felt this protective then, too? His throat tightened. He didn't answer himself.

Standing up quietly, he gathered the papers from the side table and forced his voice steady. "I'm going to the library to study," he said softly. "Finish your cake, brush your teeth, and get to bed early. You have class tomorrow."

"Okay!" Xylenne chirped, waving her fork.

Zephyros managed a small smile before turning away. His footsteps echoed faintly down the long hall until he reached the library door. He slipped inside, closing it behind him with a soft click. The moment the latch settled, his composure broke. He pressed his back to the door, hands trembling. Then his fingers came up to cover his face, the weight of his thoughts pressing down all at once.

"Was my father right...?" he whispered, voice breaking into the quiet.

His breath came shallow, uneven. "Do I... keep thinking of her when I look at Xylenne?" The silence answered him. "I'm so selfish..." he muttered. He slid down slowly until he sat against the door, his legs folding weakly beneath him. His ink-stained hands covered his face as grief tore through him, grief that had never truly gone away, only shifted into another form. Tears blurred the world, unseen, unheard by anyone else.

The candle by the library window flickered gently, its light swaying like a heartbeat.

And there, alone in the darkened study, Zephyros Winter sat in silence, caught between the shadow of the daughter he lost and the fragile hope of the girl who now reminded him too much of her.