Carolae Mellark had never set out to be a hostile person, but when
she peeked out from underneath her veil on their wedding day,
she could see it in his eyes that he still loved the other girl. He
always had. The coal miner's wife.
And she turned cold. Her heart shattered, because she knew that
no matter what she did she would never be good enough. Her
husband was a sweet and caring man, but there was no gleam in
his eyes when he called her name. It was never her face that he
wanted to see stepping through the door.
She masked her feelings year after year, but the emotion built up
inside of her: a knot growing by the day, each hour it becoming
more impossible to untangle.
Did she regret what she had done? That was a question that never
left her thoughts. It lingered, lingered like the smell of dandelions
in the field that crisp August morning. The agreement she had
made with a certain Peacekeeper. The guilt that she kept hidden
inside. It lingered like the soot on the bodies of the men as they
were carried from the mines. The blood on her hands from the life
of the man who had killed her everyday, although they had never
even exchanged hellos. Lingered like the hatred she felt for the
woman who held the heart of her husband. Lingered like the
sorrow that had haunted that woman ever since.
Regret was a word she would never truly understand.