My eyes burned with unshed tears as I lowered myself the way I always had, pleading softly.
"Please, just this once. If you're worried, come with me."
After a moment of silence, he frowned and slowly shook his head, his tone firmer than I'd ever heard it.
"Don't make a scene. When the time is right, I'll let you go see him."
In that moment, something inside me died.
No matter what reason I gave, Charles refused without wavering.
He was going to keep me here. Trapped in this invisible cage.
But my grandfather was still waiting for me.
"Abigail, didn't you always want to sketch me?"
He suddenly changed the subject, his voice softening.
"There's paper and pencils in the study. I'll go get them."
A few minutes later, he sat carefully across from me and struck a pose.
When we were dating, I used to draw his portrait almost every month.
Maybe it was because he was so handsome. Maybe it was because I loved him. Either way, my sketches of him always seemed to come alive, as if they had souls of their own.
"Why haven't you started?"
His voice pulled me back from my memories.
I forced myself to focus.
By the time I finished, I was drenched in sweat.