Chapter Twenty-Five

Minutes turned into hours and into days, and Juliet's dark lashes still hadn't fluttered open. Weston had refused to leave her side throughout the entire period. Sometimes, on days when he wasn't drained of his appetite, he asked that his food be brought to the room so he could watch his wife as he ate. The experience had completely shifted him and changed the dynamic between him and his mother. While he was grateful for that, he desperately wanted Juliet to wake up. He wanted her to hear him confess his love and tell him she felt the same way. He wanted to tell her about their future home, his little cottage on the Scottish border. He wanted to tell her everything at each passing second. All she had to do was open her eyes.

Irene had returned early that morning to administer some new medicine to Juliet.

"She is fighting." Irene had announced, taking the hood off her head. "She just needs to fight a little harder and she will win. For now, we keep waiting."

"For how long?" Weston had asked.

Irene had exhaled loudly. "For as long as possible."

He had remained by his wife's side for the entirety of that morning, telling her about the garden and how he had made sure no one went near it. He talked to her about nothing and everything at the same time. The sun rose fully into the sky, and its rays hit the bedroom rafters, causing them to appear slightly on Juliet's face.

He reached for her hands a little later and gently rubbed her knuckles with his thumb.

"I wish I had the courage to tell you that I was in love with you before everything happened. Perhaps if I had done so, we would not be in this position. I knew I loved you wholeheartedly, that day in the rain. The days that followed were just excuses that piled on top of each other so I could keep talking to you. I had so much time to talk to you about my feelings, but I kept prolonging them."

He swallowed, watching Juliet's gentle face shine ever so slightly in the afternoon light. "I had let my cowardice get in the way of my judgment. Charles told me, but I had been too adamant to see it properly." He laughed at the thought of his friend telling him the truth and him denying it ever so vehemently.

"I wanted to tell you the night of the ball too. I had come out to talk to you after mother had lashed at you with her scalding words as usual. I had again the chance when we were in the garden. I should've said something, but then Mr. Brown arrived with the flowers. I have never seen you look so happy before. Attempting to ruin it by telling you then felt cruel because if you didn't feel the same way, not only would I have ruined our friendship, I also would have destroyed your mood for nothing."

He felt her hand twitch, and a lump grew in his throat. He swallowed in disbelief. Had he imagined that?

"Juliet?" He called, waiting. Watching.

Nothing.

"Juliet, can you hear me?"

Silence. He wrapped his hand tighter around hers, hoping it would trigger another movement, but nothing came forth. He began to grow unsure whether it happened in the first place.

He sighed and leaned back against his chair.

"My mind is beginning to play tricks on me." He whispered. This happened with Eliza, too, on the day she was meant to be buried. He could have sworn he saw her eyes slightly flutter, but it had all been in his head.

"I suppose the reason I was so terrified to tell you how I feel was because of Eliza and my father. I had been so mentally bruised as a kid that I did not think anything, or anyone, could ever heal it. Until you came around." Weston let out another light laugh. "Sometimes I wonder if the spring masquerade ball didn't happen, would I still have fallen in love with you? If we had never gotten caught in the garden that day, would our conversation have blossomed more? Would I have grown in love with you like I did now? I suppose sometimes, even catastrophic situations have silver linings. Apparently, so do damaged men."

He reached for his wife's hand once more, feeling her soft skin around his palm. "You are my silver lining, Juliet. You are my hope. You are the new source of light in my life. So please, fight this. Push through it and wake up. Wake up so I can finally tell you just how much I had fallen for you. If we can get through this, I would never let anything come between us ever again. Not my mother, not the desperate townspeople and the royals in need of some salacious gossip to fill their time. Not even society's straining expectations and boundaries."

The door creaked open slowly, and Anne appeared in the doorway, her face plastered with solemn sympathy.

"Mother asks to tell you to come down for lunch."

"I am not hungry." Weston's voice was flat.

"You haven't eaten in a long time, Weston. Do you want her to wake up and find that you've malnourished yourself because of her?"

"I do not care about that, Anne."

Anne held onto the doorknob and let silence have its way between them for almost a minute.

"I miss her dearly too, you know." She continued. "Before she came along, I did not know how joyful it felt to have a sister. One I could share giddy girly secrets with. One I could talk to about men of the court and which one was bound to end up on the steps of the tavern every night after marriage."

Weston laughed. He couldn't imagine Juliet having that sort of discussion with anyone, not to talk of having it with his sister.

"My point is, I have grown to love her so much, too. I do not want to lose her too. But you have to come down and have your meal. I don't want to have to worry about you, too."

Before Weston could mouth a reply, he saw Juliet's left hand twitch again.

"Did you see that?" He asked, his voice soft and shaky, like if he were any louder, her hand would stop twitching. "Her hand."

"See what?" Anne asked, moving closer to the bed to inspect Juliet.

"Her hand. It moved." Weston repeated, and like an order, her left hand twitched one more time. And this time, Anne saw it.

"Oh heavens!" She exclaimed. "She's waking up. Weston, she's waking up!"

"Go fetch mother. And tell one of the footmen to go tell Irene."

Anne nodded and hurried out of the room, her sharp, brisk footsteps matching Weston's heartbeat. Weston watched fervently as Juliet's legs began to move as well. Soon, her eyes began to move underneath her eyelids. Weston held her hand and moved the hair away from her face. As he moved the last strand, Juliet's eyes fluttered open.

Weston laughed in joyous relief, watching his wife's eyes open ever so gently.

"You're awake." He whispered. He leaned down to kiss her hand gently and brought his head back to her face. "You're awake."

***

The bright afternoon light penetrated through Juliet's eyes the first time she opened her eyes. She shut them back immediately, feeling the almost blinding effect.

"Is it the windows?" She heard Weston say and leave her side almost immediately. A few seconds later, she could hear the curtains getting closed. She opened her eyes again. Light still filtered into the room, but not as much as before. Weston had tried his best to close the windows.

"Am I—" Her voice trailed off as a cough overtook her. "Am I dead?"

"No. You are far from that." Weston replied. His eyes reflected a mix of joy and immense relief.

"Oh, Thank heavens." Juliet whispered. "For a while there, I thought I was."

"You're not." Weston replied, holding onto his wife's hands tightly. "You're alive. You're here. With me."

A weak smile covered Juliet's face. She was not dead after all. Soon, her countenance changed almost immediately, and she started to look around.

"Estelle. Where is Estelle?" Her hoarse voice asked.

"She is fine. She was also waiting for you to wake up from your slumber. She will be glad to know you're up."

"Well, I would hope so." Juliet replied. She looked down at Weston and the entire room in general. The room looked tidied up and felt too neat, almost like it's been untouched for days. Her eyes returned to Weston, and she studied him carefully. His hair was messy, and it looked evident that he did not care about it. He had wrinkles underneath his eyes, an apparent sign that he had not been sleeping at all.

"How long was I unconscious for?" She asked gently.

Weston laughed again. "That is not important now. All that matters is that you're awake."

Juliet sighed. "I heard you."

Weston frowned in confusion. "What?"

"Everything you said. I do not know if it was some strange magic, but I heard everything you said. I wanted to hold back your hand and tell you everything would be alright, but I couldn't. I wanted to tell you not to blame yourself anymore and that nothing required forgiveness."

"No. I should've done better in defending you. I let the disdain go on for too long." Weston continued.

"I forgive you, Weston. Even though there's nothing to forgive." Juliet continued. "And yes. I love you, too. I had fallen in love with you the day you caught me as I fell from the ladder. The day I saw who you truly were behind your mask. Masks are but a mockery of who we are. You told me that, remember?"

Weston nodded, the grin on his face wider than ever. "Yes. I do."

"I saw you for who you are. A kind, impressive, witty, and intelligent man. While the circumstances that brought us together were not the best, I am glad that I walked out of the spring ball that night and met you."

"Me too." Weston replied.

"I also do not see the rest of my life unfolding without you in it. You have brought out the best in me, and I would never have had it any other way. I love you, Weston Edgeworth, and I hope, deep in your heart, that you love me just as much."

"So it's a yes?" Weston asked, the anticipation on his face laced with joy and happiness.

Juliet laughed heartily. "It is a yes."

Weston leaned closer to her bed, stroked her cheeks gently, and pulled her in for a kiss. A deep, satisfying, and cathartic kiss.

And in that moment, a new chapter of their life began. One filled with laughs, joy, happiness, warmth, care, and most importantly, love. Beatrice, Anne, and Estelle walked in, their faces covered in joy. The malice Beatrice once shared with Juliet had utterly disappeared. Seeing her alive and genuinely in love with her son had manifested her in a new light. Juliet would perhaps be the daughter-in-law that she had always asked for.

"You look thin." Beatrice said, studying Juliet who still lay on the bed, her hands weakly placed over her stomach. "I'll ask the maids to bring you some food. After which, you can tell them exactly what you want to eat."

Juliet's eyes widened in surprise. She turned to look at her husband and pulled him closer.

"Are you sure I did not die and wake up in another world?"

Weston laughed and shook his head negatively.

"Welcome back, Juliet."