Mystic Dark Veil

old lady's daughter !

A warm smile graced the old lady's lips as she met my gaze, her eyes sparkling with genuine affection. "Nothing much, my lady," she replied softly, her voice carrying a gentle warmth. "I simply wanted to offer you some special sweets from this place. They come from a hidden pastry shop, known for their incomparable taste. Please, accept this small gift as a token of my appreciation. I hold you in high regard, and I wish to share something sweet with you."

Surprised by the unexpected gesture of kindness, I felt a wave of gratitude wash over me. Here was an innkeeper, a stranger just moments ago, showing me a level of warmth and generosity that touched my heart. With a nod of thanks, I accepted the pouch of sweets, humbled by the gesture and grateful for the unexpected connection forged between us.

For me, people had always been like greedy animals, driven solely by self-interest and the desire to gain something for themselves. It was a cynical perspective, perhaps, but one that had been reinforced time and time again by my experiences. Yet, as I stood face to face with the old lady, her kind gesture shattered my preconceptions.

The innkeeper had nothing to gain from a seemingly ordinary guest like myself. Yet, she had gone out of her way to procure something special, simply to offer me a moment of sweetness and warmth. It was a gesture that defied my understanding of human nature, leaving me humbled and touched.

"Thank you," I murmured sincerely, my heart heavy with gratitude for the unexpected kindness bestowed upon me.

The old lady chuckled softly, her eyes twinkling with affection. "Haahaa, my child... no, my lady," she corrected herself, a warmth in her voice that mirrored the gentle glow of the evening sun.

Reaching out, I clasped the old lady's hand in mine, a sense of connection blossoming between us. "You don't have to call me lady, Madame. You can call me as you wish," I offered, a genuine smile playing at my lips.

The old lady's face lit up with joy at my words, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "Really? I can call you my child?" she asked, her voice quivering with emotion.

In that moment, a pang of panic seized me. It was the first time I had encountered such raw, unfiltered emotion, and I found myself at a loss for how to respond. Yet, beneath the uncertainty, there was a glimmer of warmth and acceptance, as if I had found a place where I belonged.

Observing the kind soul who had shown me such unexpected tenderness dissolve into tears, I felt a pang of empathy tug at my heartstrings. "Madame, please don't cry," I urged gently, concern etched in my voice. "Is there anything troubling you? Please, come inside. Let's sit and have a chat if you're free."

With a nod, the old lady entered my room, her tear-stained cheeks betraying the turmoil within. As we settled onto the bed, with only one chair available, I fetched a glass of water, silently offering it to her. Gradually, her sobs subsided, replaced by a heavy silence that hung between us like a veil.

After what felt like an eternity, the old lady spoke, her voice tinged with sorrow and regret. "I am sorry, child, for showing you such an unsightly side of mine."

Quickly, I interjected, shaking my head. "No, no, Madame," I reassured her. "How can a person's sadness be an unsightly side of themselves? Sadness is the reason why we can appreciate happiness. They both coexist, and no one should feel pathetic because they are insecure or sad."

With a soft smile, I reached out, gently clasping the old lady's trembling arms. "Madame, you can speak to me. Share the worries you carry as a stranger whom you may never see again. I won't betray your trust by revealing your secrets to others."

The old lady's eyes brimmed with fresh tears as she found the courage to speak, her words faltering with emotion. "My... my... I lost my child," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "They took her from me, those devils. She was just a little kid, with so much life ahead of her. It's because of me... because I didn't take care of her well. I lost my baby."