CHAPTER 310: NOT PRETENDING

"Rosie," Emma called.

Rose froze at the voice and it took everything for her not to jerk her head backwards. She could recognize that voice anywhere. She was certain Emma was behind her, but Rose wasn’t sure if she wanted to see.

She had come all this way and now she didn’t know. Nevertheless, Emma stepping out of Ander’s family home was all the confirmation she needed.

Her best friend wouldn’t be there if they weren’t married, and perhaps it was also true she was pregnant with his child too. Rose winced as she realized she would have to deal with not having a best friend anymore.

"Emma," Madame Oliver called, her voice a little too soft. "Wha are ye doin’ out ’ere in the cold? Ye must rest for tha baby. It is warmer inside. Ye must not upset tha baby."

Rose closed her eyes as she heard the confirmation about the pregnancy and when she opened them again, they were blank. She rubbed her arms; she was starting to feel the cold, which was good. The cold made her thoughts unclear.

She took a step forward. It was hard, and more than once the thought of turning around crossed her mind, but there was no point. She didn’t think any excuse could justify this, and now that she had her confirmation, she was done here.

"I wish you a happy marriage, Emma," she said and carried on walking.

"Rosie!" Emma screamed and tried to go out the gate, but Madame Oliver stopped her.

"Ye can’t go out in tha cold. Tha baby."

"Rosie, please just turn around," Emma cried while Madame Oliver held onto her.

Rose didn’t, and neither did her footsteps falter. She just walked the way back home in the cold, kicking off the piles of snow on the ground. The setting sun made the weather even colder.

Her teeth chattered as she walked home, but Rose didn’t fight the cold—she welcomed it. It was certainly better than the thoughts that wanted to rip her apart.

"Rosie," her father called as she opened the door. He looked very concerned. "Ye just ran out. I was worried. Did ye go to see..."

Rose nodded, dusting off the snow on her body, and walked through the door before shutting it. The house was warm. It was nice to be in the warmth, but she missed the cold. The thoughts that the cold had abated were spinning around her head.

Rose nodded and gave her father a sad smile. Perhaps because she had been crying all day, not a single tear fell from her eyes. "Yes."

"Did ye see Ander?! Tha bastard. ’Ow could..."

"It’s fine, Fat’er. Thank you for telling me. It would have been worse if I had heard it from someone else first. Sorry for running out without any explanation."

"It’s okay," her father said.

His tone was soft as he spoke, and his eyes didn’t leave Rose. He was studying her, looking for anything amiss, but Rose’s expression wasn’t giving anything away.

"How’s Mot’er?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Yer mot’er is still asleep. Someone came by. ’E brought tha ’erbs tha Lord was talkin’ about and a balm to ’elp wit tha swellin’. We are to boil tha ’erbs first before yer mot’er will drink it."

Rose nodded as she listened. "Where are tha herbs?" she asked.

"Inside," he replied.

Rose nodded. She would boil it over the fireplace after she had cooked dinner so that her mother could drink it as soon as she ate. Rose wasn’t sure if they had anything, but Lady Deana had given her enough food for some time.

"Are ye really okay, Rosie?" Vallyn asked. He approached his daughter and placed a heavy hand on her shoulder.

Rose sighed and closed her eyes, but she didn’t force herself to smile. "Yes, Fat’er. I promise I am fine."

"Ye don’t ’ave to push yerself. It ’as been ’ard, and now this. Ye don’t ’ave to pretend to be strong."

Rose didn’t think she was pretending in the slightest. It hurt, there was no mistaking that. However, it wasn’t as crushing as when she first heard.

Besides, even if Ander wasn’t married to Emma, she doubted things could go back to the way they used to be. His mother had said it herself: she wouldn’t let her son marry a harlot.

"I am not pretending, Fat’er, I promise. I am okay. Now, sit back so I can prepare some dinner and Mot’er’s herbs."

"Rosie," Vallyn called, his voice still held worry.

"Fat’er," she called back.

Vallyn sighed and took his hand off her shoulders. "I will stay wit yer mot’er," he reluctantly said.

Rose nodded and stepped away, going towards her old bedroom which also partially served as a store and where cooking equipment was kept. She would need pots and hopefully, there was water. With the snow, it would be hard to get water, and she didn’t want to have to rely on melted snow. There wasn’t much time now to melt it and there wasn’t enough snow yet, sand could get mixed up in it.

Thankfully, there was more than enough water and Rose got to work. She wanted to make something easy and simple. She had been ignoring her fatigue, but she knew she couldn’t remain on her feet for too long.

Rose opted for soup, using some of the ingredients Lady Deana had given her. She was grateful for them, she hadn’t seen anything worthwhile in the store, and her mother was sick. She needed to eat as healthily as possible.

The pot hung low and Rose stirred the soup. The aroma filtered through the air, adding to the warmth in the room. Rose couldn’t help the smile on her face—when was the last time she cooked for her parents?

"It smells delicious," her father commented.

"Thank you," Rose said with a smile, without looking back.

"I tink so too," a softer voice said.

"Mot’er," Rose cried, realizing that her mother had woken up. However, she couldn’t leave the pot just yet.

"Carry on," her father said. "I can’t wait to eat."

Rose laughed and kept stirring. "It will be ready soon."