metanoia // bridgerton.

•part forty-two•

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Clyvedon, 1813.

There is no shame in admitting one's faults. I believe women find honest men rather attentive and worth to look at.

Liars never get their way, because no matter how small of a lie, sooner or later the trick gets dragged out of the bag like a child sees the day of this world when it's first born.

Dear readers, do not lie to someone you love. Trickery has never gotten a happy ending. Especially not when my eyes see everything - whether it is the darkest corner of London or the brightest lit up room of the Clyvedon castle.

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DESPITE having wanted to ask Simon where his honesties laid the previous day, Clara frightened her mind to a point she did not utter a word to him anymore. She came back to their bedroom in silence, Simon waiting for her with food to eat, his face puzzled and slightly worried. He had asked her where she had went, but Clara did not answer him much.

However, Clara truly wanted to ask him. As he sat and ate his food, many concerns repeated itself like a broken wheel inside of her mind, many of them having no positive outcome. Simon had lied to her, one part thought like this, but the other, the one which resided in denial continued to calm Clara down and tell her that he was only ashamed of being unable to have children.

Even if Simon was different to other men in many aspects, he was still a man when she thought about it, and the idea of lacking in something important must have hurt him enough. Clara felt perplexed and restless, but she hadn't asked him the previous night, and neither the next day. He had been busy with his duke responsibilities once again, leaving Clara alone with her many hateful thoughts and feelings.

Clara hated herself presumably more than she could hate Simon's lack of honesty with her. It wasn't like her to just stay quiet and allow his boat to flow calmly, Clara knew she should've acted instead of stall, but then again Simon was a man she loved, and the thin door which covered her away from him and his truth felt too weak to break. Clara did not wish to fight with Simon, but she couldn't see herself sink down as well.

Even if married, Clara still possessed her pride and freedom. Even if she loved Simon like the flowers loved the sun or water, Clara had to eventually break through that door and to face whatever was coming for her.

Good or bad, relieving or on the contrary, heartbreaking.

So, when yet another dusk settled and they ate in their dining room, Clara could not hold it in much longer. She was hurting, she was unhappy and wished to mend both of these emotions, unable to sleep, eat or breathe. Simon sat away from her, the huge table separating them both and even if Simon would've wanted for Clara to sit next to him, she chose the distance this time as if it would help her see him better. See him for who he was, because Simon began to feel like a stranger. And there wasn't a worse feeling than that.