Before we knew it, daylight had waned, and Genny had to return home. She gave us all a little hug and left, taking her now empty basket with her. After her departure, I realized I was incredibly tired. Without delay, Connie motioned for me to follow him upstairs.

My room was less spacious than the one in the manor, but still quite comfortable. There were the normal accouterments: a nice bed, a dresser, a sink with running water, a desk by the window. Nary a speck of dust or spiderweb in sight, which was a welcome sight from the cottage.

“Mother insisted we keep a room ready for you,” Connie explained as I sat on the bed.

“Even though you knew I was never coming home,” I said. “Thank you.”

“Sometimes it helps to have faith, right?” My brother gave a reassuring smile. “That’s how we got this far.”

“I suppose.” A thought suddenly crossed my mind. “Constantine, can I ask you something?”

“Anything, Mare.”

“Did you ever feel useless?”

Concern crossed my brother’s features. “Do you?”

“Well, compared to you and August, I am. Ever since we fell on hard times, I’ve had nothing to contribute. All my desire to paint got me was to sweep floors at a bakery. Then I couldn’t even hold onto that.” I stared at the floor. “I felt like I was a burden to you all. That was why I left.”

Connie sighed and brushed back his hair. “There was something Father told me years ago about this exact thing. Believe it or not, I felt the same way too.”

“You did?”

Connie nodded, sitting down next to me. “When I decided to take up carpentry, I was about the age you were when you started painting. At the time, I was always following Father everywhere. I couldn’t stop idolizing him. He was everything I wanted to be. But there was one crucial problem: I had no love for the family business. I desperately wanted to forge a path and do something that I genuinely wanted to do. I discovered that I preferred to fix things, to do carpentry. But that was peasants’ work, at least that’s what I thought then. I didn’t care much for economics or negotiation. I thought I was too dumb for it. August on the other hand, now he was better at that stuff than me. And yet, I was the oldest. I was supposed to be the successor to the crown, as it were.” Connie shook his head and laughed. “I didn’t know what I was supposed to do if I wasn’t going to be exactly like Father. But I never told anyone about it for the longest time. I held it in, and it dragged me down.”

“What became of it, then?”

“I decided to run. I would sneak aboard one of the merchant vessels and jump off the first place they made port. I packed a bag and was about to step out the door when Father stopped me. I explained myself to him and told him of my plan to leave because I felt like I was useless. I expected him to be angry with me. But he wasn’t. He sat me down and consoled me.” Connie smiled sadly to himself. His large brown eyes misted. “You know what he told me, Mare?” Connie wrapped his arm around my shoulders.

I shook my head.

“He looked me dead in the eyes and told me, ‘I don’t care that you don’t excel at what Mother and I do. You are your person, a good person, and that is why I love you.’” Connie motioned to his hands. “These have many splinters, but they’d be nothing without this—” He pointed to his chest, and then mine. “I chose my path because I wanted to help people in my own way. Father understood that. And you help people in yours.”

“I can’t construct a cabinet.”

“No. But you capture beauty on canvas. I would only dream of being able to do that. We don’t have to be good at everything, just the things that are best for us.”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

I looked at my own hands. Faded paint colors still stained the skins. “Now I feel foolish.”

“We can’t help the mistakes we make at our lowest. It’s what we do afterward that counts.” Connie pulled me close. “And I have a strong feeling that if you truly didn’t care, you wouldn’t have left. It took a lot of courage to do what you did, knowing that you may never return.”

“That’s what you call it.” I deflected.

“I honestly don’t think I would’ve left.” Connie raised his right hand. “That’s a fact.”

I opened my mouth, then shut it. The words escaped me.

“I know you’re probably dead tired, so I’ll let you get some rest.” Connie ruffled my hair and headed for the door. “Just think about what I said, okay?”

“Connie?” I called after him. “Do you think Father would’ve been proud of me?”

Connie flashed a grin. “You already know the answer to that.” And he shut the door.

I laid back in bed and thought over his words. I couldn’t believe I’d never heard that story before. Of all people, I suspected Connie to be the least likely to suffer crippling inadequacy. Yet he persisted and found his footing. If anything, it only made me miss Father even more. If only I could’ve been older before he passed. I could’ve known him better.

Someone squirmed in my pocket. I freed Doux from his transport and placed him beside me on the bed. I rolled over and looked him in his little beady eyes. He crawled to my face and sniffed my nose, his little whiskers tickling me.

“Sorry about that, little one,” I said as he pawed at my face and licked me. “I know you’re probably tired too.” I looked around. “I don’t know where you’ll live now that we’re home.”

Doux’s ears fell. He cocked his head.

“If they see you, they might hurt you.” I rubbed his head.

Doux stood up and scampered to a corner of the room. I followed him to a small hole in the floorboards barely large enough to fit him. His blobby body struggled at first before squeezing through the hole. He poked his nose out as if to confirm his new home.

“I should’ve known,” I said, smiling. “You’re better at that than me.”

Dusk streamed its dim colors through the window. I took this as a sign to finally go to bed. I changed clothes, crawled into bed, and fell into a peaceful sleep.

When I woke to the birds chirping the next morning, it was quite a shock. Beams of warm sunlight streaming into my room were even more so. It truly was the little things that one missed when they were taken away. Faustine and the manor resurfaced in my mind. I pushed the thought down as I climbed out of bed.

Downstairs, the servants were busy cleaning up the kitchen while Mother and August sat at the table eating breakfast. The servants moving around in full view was a bit of an adjustment, but a welcome return to normalcy. I knew the bread and fruit were fresh, but it would never beat what I’d had back at the manor. Still, fresh food was always a plus.

“I’m off.” Mother said as she finished off the last grapes on a vine. “I’ll see you at the office.” She patted August’s shoulder as she strode to the door.

I wandered over to the table and sat across from August. My brother hurriedly crunched on a piece of bread slathered with jam. Crumbs fluttered to his plate like brown snowflakes. I took a piece of bread and began spreading jam over it with a butter knife.

“Awake bright and early I see,” August remarked as he finished the last of his bread.

“I forgot just how noisy mornings could be.”

“Unfortunately, that’s where being a light sleeper does little good.” My brother grumbled. “Every time Connie’s snoring woke me up would be more than the stars in the sky.” Connie produced a small watch from his waistcoat. “I must be off.” He got up and headed for the door.

“Have a good day,” I said with a wave.

“Wait.” August stopped and turned around. “Come here.”

I obeyed and approached my brother.

“I don’t know if I’m going to get another chance at this, what with administrative tasks being what they are, but—” August shuffled in place. He exhaled sharply.

I realized my brother was nervous. August was nervous. The thought mildly amused me.

“I’m sorry about my actions to you that night. The night of, well… you know.”

“What are you—” My mind retraced the last four months. I soon realized what he was talking about. “Oh. That.”

“I thought that there was a possibility that my actions contributed to your leaving.” August bowed his head. “I was frustrated about our situation and Mother had not returned. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

Warmth spread through my chest. “It’s alright, August. I forgive you.”

“I was afraid you wouldn’t.” He rubbed the back of his head. “I don’t have the best way of expressing myself sometimes. I just wanted to ensure that I could be understood—”

“I understand. Thank you.” I pulled August into a hug. His body went rigid for a moment before embraced me back. The warmth in my chest grew as August held me.

“Right.” August separated from me and quickly wiped his eyes. “I should be off to work then. Mother’s expecting me. I’ll see you later.”

I smiled. “Same to you, brother.”

With that, August descended the steps and walked into town. I stood in the doorway and watched him join the crowds in town.

I forgive you. It felt so good to say.

I wondered who exactly I was saying it to.