I dried my tears slowly with the back of my hand, rubbing my face like I could erase everything that just happened. My skin felt tight and hot. My eyes burned. I stared at myself in the mirror for a long second, barely recognizing the woman looking back at me. Red eyes. Pale lips. Hair messy. I looked tired… older… like life had taken ten years from me in one day.
"This isn't the time," I told myself quietly.
My voice sounded weak.
Broken.
But I forced myself to stand.
If I stayed on that floor any longer, I felt like I would never get up again.
So I walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower.
Hot water.
As hot as my skin could take.
Steam slowly filled the room, covering the mirror, the walls, everything. The world became blurry. Quiet. Just the sound of water falling.
I stepped under it.
The heat hit my shoulders first, then my back, then my face.
It should have helped.
It should have relaxed me.
But it didn't.
The moment the water touched my skin, something inside me cracked again.
Hot tears came out of nowhere.
Unexpected.
Unwanted.
They mixed with the shower water and ran down my face so fast I couldn't even tell which was which.
I wiped my eyes.
More came.
I bit my lips.
More came.
My chest started hurting again.
That tight feeling.
Like something heavy was sitting on top of me.
And then—
I couldn't hold it anymore.
A loud scream tore out of my throat.
Raw.
Painful.
Animal-like.
It echoed against the bathroom walls.
I screamed again.
And again.
Like if I didn't let it out, I would explode.
Like my heart would burst open.
My hands pressed against the tiles for support.
My legs felt weak.
My whole body shaking.
I didn't even notice how loud I was.
"Are you okay, Madam Alexa?!"
The voice cut through everything.
Sharp.
Worried.
I froze.
"Nanny Berry" she shouted again, so loud I heard it clearly even through the water.
Reality rushed back.
I quickly turned off the shower.
Silence filled the room.
My breathing was heavy.
Embarrassing.
I didn't want more drama.
Not today.
Not anymore.
Nanny Berry…
She raised Mark.
She fed him.
Scolded him.
Loved him.
Sometimes I used to joke that she loved him more than his own mother.
She wasn't staff.
She was family.
She was the only genuine love I ever felt around him.
The only person in that house who never judged me.
Never looked at me like I didn't belong.
I wrapped a towel around myself and stepped out.
Before I could even reach the door, it opened.
She had already come in without permission.
She didn't care about rules.
Not when it came to Mark.
Not when it came to me.
She stopped when she saw me.
Her eyes softened immediately.
No anger.
No blame.
No coldness.
Just worry.
Pure worry.
She walked to me and hugged me.
Tight.
Warm.
Strong.
For the first time since Mark's passing…
I felt it.
Genuine concern.
Not fake tears.
Not family reputation.
Not press performance.
Just love.
Simple love.
"You will be fine, miss," she said softly, staring deep into my eyes.
Her voice shook.
Like she was the one about to cry.
My throat closed up.
My eyes burned again.
I didn't even fight it this time.
Tears slid down slowly.
I was still wet in my towel.
Water dripping down my legs.
My muscles weak.
My head empty.
Like my brain stopped working.
She raised her hands and wiped my tears with her thumbs gently, like I was a child.
"Cry," she whispered. "Just let it all out. Don't keep it in."
I wanted to.
God, I wanted to.
To fall into her arms and cry like a baby.
To scream.
To break.
But I couldn't.
If I started, I might never stop.
So I forced a smile.
"I am fine… don't worry," I said.
Even I didn't believe myself.
She sighed.
"Buried sorrows only harm the soul," she said quietly. "Your soul is so heavy and bitter, Alexa… it doesn't end well."
Her words hurt more than anything.
Because they were true.
I wasn't sad anymore.
I was bitter.
Angry.
Empty.
She smiled sadly and finally let me go.
I watched her leave the room slowly.
The door closed softly behind her.
And just like that—
I was alone again.
The silence returned.
Louder than before.
I walked to the bed and sat down.
The mattress sank under my weight.
Everything felt slow.
Heavy.
My body felt like stone.
My mind wouldn't stop thinking.
Mark.
The funeral.
Robert.
The press.
The baby.
His voice.
His last call.
Everything mixed together.
My new life.
Complicated.
Messy.
Dangerous.
Nothing felt safe anymore.
Nothing felt certain.
I stared at the wall, lost.
Then suddenly—
Something flickered in my mind.
A small memory.
Soft.
Quiet.
Mark sitting at his desk late at night.
Writing.
Always writing.
When I asked him once, he just smiled and closed it quickly.
"Just thoughts," he said.
But he never let me read it.
My heart skipped.
My eyes widened slowly.
His drawer.
The locked one.
The one he always kept close.
My fingers tightened around the bedsheet.
My breathing slowed.
One clear thought formed in my head.
Mark's diary