The Return of Olivia

Olivia slowly opened her eyes, feeling as though she was being pulled from the depths of a vast sea of dreams, her gaze collided with a stark white ceiling familiar yet strangely alien, a faint thought crept into her mind: "Is this hell? surely i couldn't be in heaven, not after everything I've done."

Confusion drove her to rise from the bed, her blue eyes darting around the room in disarray, everything was achingly familiar her old room, the unchanged furniture, in a moment of desperation, she punched her cheek, the sting grounding her like a slap from reality, she rushed to the mirror and froze as if staring at a ghost.

Her reflection stared back: wide eyes, smooth skin, and platinum hair cascading like silk over her shoulders.

She couldn't believe it, over and over, she touched her face, testing its reality, then, almost instinctively, she loosened her gown, inspecting her body, ashock swept through her like a storm, "This is impossible, this isn't a dream, " she pressed her hand to her reddened cheek, the vivid mark of her waking etched in crimson.

A soft knock at the door shattered her thoughts, a hesitant maid's voice followed:

"My Lady, are you awake? I've come to assist you, may I enter?"

Olivia forced herself to gather her thoughts, whatever this reality was, she had to face it, she replied, her voice trembling yet tinged with the sharpness that once defined her:

"Come in."

The maid entered, bowing submissively

"My Lady, the bath is ready, would you like to go now?"

Olivia's gaze swept over her, disdain still lingering in her inherited habits, she gestured dismissively:

"Leave."

The maid retreated, but Olivia stopped her with a commanding tone.

"Wait. What year is it today?"

"The year is 575, My Lady."

The answer left Olivia more puzzled than ever, she moved toward the bath, sinking into the steaming water adorned with rose petals, the warmth carried her away momentarily, but memories began to invade like unrelenting specters, one by one, every detail returned, ohe remembered her last words before leaving this world: "I will try to be a better wife and sister."

Tears fell in torrents, she had gone back in time, how or why, she didn't know.

After her bath, Olivia returned to her room, where the maid stood waiting with her clothes, as the maid approached to assist, Olivia shoved her aside, clutching her towel as though it could shield her from a past she refused to let return.

The maid cowered in terror, falling to her knees in supplication, knowing even a slight mistake could cost her everything, but in that moment, Olivia remembered her promise, she stared at the whip she once might have reached for instinctively, her hand trembled, "No, not this time."

Exhaling heavily, she gestured for the maid to leave.

"Get out of my sight"

The maid scrambled away, leaving Olivia alone with the mirror, he studied her reflection again, searching for something new, this time, she didn't just see herself; she saw her past, her scars, her cruelty.

When breakfast arrived, Olivia turned to the maid, her tone unexpectedly calm.

"What's your name?"

"Kira, My Lady."

"Good, is the Duke here?"

"No, My Lady, he left to guard the borders a few days ago and is expected back tomorrow."

"You may leave."

Kira hurried out, only to be met by the astonished faces of her fellow servants one whispered:

"Kira! You went in twice and didn't get whipped? What did you do?"

"Nothing... Just what I always do."

Inside, Olivia sat alone, staring at her hands; the hands that had nearly wielded the whip once more, but this time, she understood something different, change wasn't a dream, it was a choice, and she had to embrace it, no matter the cost.

She stepped out of her room, and the servants lined up to greet her:

"Good morning, My Lady."

She passed them without a word, heading straight to the dining room, she took her place at the grand table, her gaze lifting to see Isabella; Leon's wife and the sister-in-law of Mathias; seated gracefully at the far end.

Isabella's simple green dress complemented her soft brown hair and striking green eyes, she ate with quiet elegance, a stark contrast to the tense household atmosphere, the servants' glances spoke what their lips could not: they adored her, secretly wishing she were the Duchess instead of Olivia.

Isabella's eyes met Olivia's, and she rose quickly, bowing in apology:

"I'm sorry, Your Grace, i didn't realize you were here, good morning."

Olivia examined her for a moment before replying:

"You may sit."

It was uncharacteristically civil of Olivia, normally, she would have hurled insults, drenched Isabella in water, and reminded her who the Duchess was, but today, she had merely asked her to sit.

The servants began whispering among themselves, but Olivia's sharp gaze silenced them, she slammed the table with her hand, rising abruptly.

"It seems some of you don't know your place, do i need to teach you, you insolent fools? whispering about me in my presence?"

Her anger erupted, but only momentarily, the servants scattered in fear, Isabella moved to leave, but Olivia gestured firmly.

"You, sit, iwasn't referring to you, Lady Isabella, you're not a servant."

Obediently, Isabella resumed her seat, Olivia toyed with her food before speaking again:

"Lady Isabella, are you managing the estate in my absence?"

"Yes, Your Grace, if there's something you'd like changed," Isabella hesitated, then added cautiously, "I apologize, but I don't think it's possible to increase your wardrobe budget further, it's already at half the estate's funds."

Shock flickered across Olivia's face, she had indulged in extravagance, but to consume half the estate's budget? That was a revelation.

"I wasn't talking about that," Olivia said, masking her surprise, "I just wanted to know who handles my duties."

Isabella's expression turned wary, "I do, Your Grace, but the Duke approves all my decisions."

"I see. From now on, I'll manage the estate myself."

Isabella's spoon clattered to her plate, astonished, "Of course, Your Grace, they are your rightful duties."

"Finish your food," Olivia commanded.

When Isabella hesitated, Olivia stood, "Take me to the office when you're done."

In the office, Olivia found a mountain of documents awaiting her attention, though she despised paperwork, she was a noblewoman, trained in the art of estate management, she donned glasses, picked up a pen, and began reviewing the papers budgets, inventories, reports all with methodical precision.

Isabella watched her cautiously, suspicion etched into every glance.

"If you're going to stare, at least sit," Olivia said without looking up.

"I'm not watching, Your Grace, i'm ensuring everything is in order."

Olivia smirked faintly, "As if I'd believe that, don't worry; I won't kill you, you're my sister-in-law, after all."

Silence fell between them, but Olivia could feel the weight of Isabella's doubts, she ignored them, focusing instead on the work before her, hours passed, the sun setting in golden hues, and finally, Olivia spoke.

"When i wasn't handling these tasks, how were they managed?"

"Your Grace, i sent them to the Duke, he reviewed and signed them."

Her eyes widened, Mathias had quietly taken on her responsibilities for years without complaint, never once rebuking her neglect, guilt pierced her heart like a blade.

"Isabella, inform the head chef to prepare a banquet for the knights returning from the border."

"Pardon?"

"You heard me. Do it."

Without another word, Olivia left the office, alone in her room, she lay on her bed, her thoughts a tempest, tomorrow, she would face Mathias, how could she, after everything?

The weight of regret was unbearable, but for the first time, it came with a glimmer of resolve.