𝑵𝑶 𝑴𝑬𝑹𝑪𝒀 | 𝐓.𝐒 |

𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗 : 𝚐𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞

Mercy tapped her other side, looking up at the maidservant, and said, "Come sit with us," she paused for a few moments before finally agreeing, Mirasol would always obey her lady's orders and do whatever she was asked to do. They sat together in front of their hacienda's vast land, watching the hue of fire hearths and tangerines that stretches far and wide.

She sipped the drink, getting a hint of the bittersweet taste of gin mixed with lemonade. Iago prepared it especially for her, he was confident that it would really make her feel better, "What's going inside your head?" he asked the woman.

Her mouth tightened into a thin line, "Papá wants me to marry the son of Don Zacarias... I don't want to marry him, Iago," the thought of marrying someone she doesn't even know made her stomach churn. She was only sixteen, still young and pure. Her father was a power-hungry man, he wanted to tie connections with influential families—even if it meant using his children. 

"He can't do that!" Iago exclaimed, his rage building inside him. He rose to his feet, both fists clenched until they turned pale. "He can, and he will," she nibbled her lower lip and stared at him, this was the first time he heard of this absurdity.

Mirasol, on the other hand, was only listening to them. She already knew her lady would be married off to a wealthy family in a few months. Mercedes handed her the glass, and her stomach clenched in disgust as the smell of the drink reached her nostrils.

"Let's run away," Iago breathed as he squatted in front of her once more, softly caressing her wrists.

"Imogen! You alright, love?" Ada's shout from behind made her body jolt, head snapping towards her direction. "Y—yeah, I'm good. How's the two of you there?" she laughed in embarrassment, scratching the back of her nape.

This wasn't the first time Ada had noticed her staring blankly into space; she'd been in a deep reverie since she returned from her ride with Thomas three days ago. Ada gave her a suspicious look as if she was trying to read her friend.

"We're fine," Ada replied, her gaze falling on the window beside her. They left the hotel half an hour ago, and they'll be in Small Heath in a few minutes. Ada was understandably worried. Did Thomas bail Freddie out? Would her husband be there?

As the three of them stepped foot outside the car, they were welcomed by the industrial town's thick and gray smog. Ada grew up in Small Heath but she'll never get used to it, her windpipe felt as if it were a dirty factory chimney.

Polly Gray was waiting outside the house, burning a cigar between her lips. A warm smile plastered on her face as she noticed her niece, "Oh, Ada," she tossed the cigar on the ground and moved closer to them.

"Pol..." she grumbled, returning her aunt's smile. Mercy, who was carrying both of their suitcases, gave Polly a wink. She was pleased with herself for being able to return Ada to her home; her middle name was stubborn. It's no surprise Ada has that attitude; stubbornness runs in the Shelby family.

Once inside, Mercy made herself at home and went straight to the kitchen to make a cup of tea for them. "Where's everyone?" she wondered, knowing that on a morning like this, Finn and John's children would be running all over the place. She was excited to see Finn and Isaiah again; they must have grown taller by this point.

In the living room, Polly was rocking Karl, who's been fussing ever since they arrived at the house. "You're much better with him than I am," Ada leaned on the door frame, crossing her arms.

"He settles quicker with me because he can't smell the milk," explained Polly, walking circles around the area. "You're tired," she spoke to Karl as if he could understand her, "let's put him down," she placed him on his cradle.