Liberation of The Slaves

Chapter 93 – The Day She Bloomed Again

— Daisy’s POV —

*Knock* *Knock*

A gentle rapping came from the door, followed by a maid’s polite voice through the wood.

“Miss Celestia, Madam requests your presence in the inner garden.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Understood. I’ll inform Madam,” the maid replied.

As the maid's footsteps faded down the hall, Sister turned to me, holding something in her hand.

“Here, Daisy. Read this.”

I tilted my head. “What is it?”

“It’s a letter. From Mom and Dad. They wrote it when they prepared your birthday gifts.”

My eyes widened, and I reached for it reverently. “I see… okay. I’ll read it.”

Then, to my surprise, she held out another envelope.

“This one’s mine,” she said softly.

“Yours?”

She nodded. “They wrote one for me too. If you’d like… you can read it.”

That made me smile.

It was her way of showing me she truly meant what she said—that we would share everything from now on.

“I see… Then I’ll let you read mine later too,” I said with a quiet smile.

“Knowing Mom,” she chuckled, “they probably wrote us something similar anyway.”

“True. Haha.”

She reached out and gave my head a gentle pat.

“I’ll go see Madam now.”

“Un.”

Once the door closed behind her, I turned my attention to the letter in my hands.

Alone in the quiet room, I took a deep breath—

And began to read.

To Our Dearest Daisy,

If you’re reading this, it means we can no longer hold you in our arms, nor kiss your cheeks, nor watch you dance in circles under the summer sun the way you used to. It means something has taken us from you too soon—and for that, we are sorry beyond words.

Sweetheart, we never wanted you to grow up in a world without us. Not you, our little sunshine.

You were always so bright, so full of laughter and light. Even when the days were cloudy, you’d find ways to make us smile. You’d hum while feeding the birds, twirl in the hallway just to make Freed laugh, and sneak cookies to Celestia when she was too busy pretending to be serious.

You were joy, Daisy. Pure, unfiltered joy.

And even if the world has tried to dim that joy…

Even if your heart has been bruised…

Even if there were nights when it felt like no one could hear you—

Please remember this:

You are still our daughter.

You are still beautiful.

You are still loved.

The world can be cold, cruel, even wicked… but you don’t have to fight it alone. We left you with more than memories—we left you with the two people we trusted most in the world.

Your sister, Celestia.

Your brother, Freed.

Trust them, sweetheart. Trust them with everything.

Celestia may try to carry the sky on her shoulders, but she needs you to remind her where the ground is. And Freed will grow wild and brave like your father—but he’ll always listen to your voice. The three of you were never meant to stand apart. You are strongest when you are together.

We told them to protect you. And we told you the same.

Not out of fear—

But out of faith.

Because we believed in the bond you three share.

You may not remember everything we taught you, Daisy. But please hold onto this:

You do not need to be strong like Celestia.

You only need to be you.

That is more than enough.

Your softness is not weakness.

Your gentleness is not a flaw.

Your heart is a daisy—

delicate, bright, and always reaching for the sun, even after the storm.

We know you were always the one who smiled first, who laughed the loudest,

who tried to lift others even when your own heart ached.

But, Daisy…

you don’t have to smile all the time.

You don’t have to be strong every moment.

If it hurts—cry.

If you're scared—cry.

Tears aren’t weakness. They’re rain.

And even daisies need rain to grow.

So when the days feel too heavy to carry alone, let yourself cry.

Let your sister hold you. Let your brother comfort you.

And when your tears fall, remember—

we are with you in every drop.

And just like a daisy, you will bloom again.

We know the world can be cruel to those who feel deeply. But don’t let it steal your kindness. Don’t let it make you hard.

Let Celestia be your shield.

Let Freed be your sword.

And you, Daisy—be the warmth that keeps them human.

As for the dress and the necklace… ask your sister. She’ll tell you everything. But know this: we didn’t choose these gifts to protect your body. We chose them to remind you that you’re worth adorning. That even if your hands tremble, even if your heart aches, you still deserve to wear something beautiful.

And one more thing, love:

If you ever feel alone…

If you ever feel unworthy…

If you ever think of giving up—

Read this again.

Not because it will fix everything.

But because we meant every word.

You are loved.

You are enough.

You are still our joy.

Happy birthday, our little summer breeze.

We love you endlessly.

And we always will.

No matter what’s been taken from you…

No matter how dark the night becomes…

You will always be our Daisy.

And you will always have a place in our hearts.

With infinite love,

Mom and Dad

“Mom… Dad…”

The letter trembled in my hands, already damp with tears. My breath hitched. I clutched it tightly to my chest and turned.

I didn’t even think.

I staggered to the bed and collapsed—not gracefully, not gently, but like my legs had finally given out beneath the weight of everything I hadn’t said.

My knees hit the mattress, and I crumpled forward, curling into the sheets like a child desperate for comfort.

The letter pressed between my arms and my chest like it could fill the empty place inside me.

They’d written these words because they knew one day I’d be reading them… without them.

They were gone.

Gone.

And yet somehow… they had still left this behind.

They knew.

They had known.

They’d written these words with the knowledge they wouldn’t be there to see me read them.

They’d prepared for my pain.

Prepared for the possibility that I would fall.

That I would break.

That I would stop being the girl I once was.

And that was what shattered me most.

“AaaaaaaaAAAAHHHHHHH!!”

The scream ripped out of me—loud, raw, ugly—buried into the blanket, muffled by the tears that poured from my face.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…!!”

My sobs came hard, uncontrollable, crashing over me like a tide I’d been holding back for too long.

“I wanted to die… every day…”

“I thought… if I just stopped breathing, if I just disappeared… maybe the pain would too…”

“I thought no one loved me anymore… I thought I was worthless… broken… that I didn’t deserve to live…”

“But you still… you still called me your treasure…”

“I’m sorry…!”

“AaaaaaaaAAAAHHHHHHH!!”

I curled tighter, as if the blanket could shield me from the past. As if, just for a second, the world might stop turning and let me catch my breath.

“I gave up… I didn’t believe anymore…”

“But… you did.”

“You never left. You never stopped thinking of me. You were still here… you still… loved me…”

“I’m sorry I gave up! I’m sorry I gave up on life, on Sis, on everything—!”

“AaaaaaaaAAAAHHHHHHH!!”

More tears came. They poured freely down my face, soaking my dress, the floor, my hands—everything. I pressed the letter to my face like a child begging for a hug, choking on sobs I hadn’t let myself feel in years.

“I thought no one could love me anymore. I thought I was disgusting… ruined… that I didn’t deserve to be your daughter…”

“But you still called me your treasure…”

My hands gripped the letter like it was their hands I was holding—like I could still feel them, warm and alive, if I just held on tight enough.

“Forgive me… please forgive me… Mom… Dad…! Forgive me…!”

“AaaaaaaaAAAAHHHHHHH!!”

The bed shook with the weight of my sobs, my tears soaking the sheets. I pressed the letter to my cheek, gasping, whispering.

“I didn’t know you left me this… I didn’t know you were still holding me…”

“I’m sorry I didn’t cry for you sooner.”

“I’m sorry I let myself forget the sound of your voices.”

“I’m sorry I survived like this.”

The ache in my chest felt like something sharp, something real—like I could reach in and pull it out with bloodied hands and still not ease the pressure.

The scream tore out of me like something ancient, something buried too long. It didn’t end all at once. It frayed at the edges—splintering into sobs, gasps, hiccuped breaths that caught in my throat. I cried until my voice cracked, until my body ached, until I couldn’t tell where the pain ended and the silence began.

“I’m sorry…”

The world blurred behind the fog of my tears. I wasn’t sure how long I lay there—but slowly, the storm began to fade.

The screaming stopped. Not because I wasn’t hurting, but because I had nothing left to give it. Only the quiet remained. And the letter, warm against my chest, still holding me like their arms never had the chance to.

“I’ll hold on now,” I whispered through the last of my sobs. “I’ll live. I’ll try.”

“For Sis.”

“For Freed.”

“For you.”

“I’ll keep this letter with me always. I’ll read it again every time I forget who I am.”

“Because I’m your daughter.”

“Even if I’m broken…”

“I’m still yours.”

“And I promise… I’ll find a way to bloom again.”

The letter shook in my hands.

But it didn’t fall apart.

And neither did I.

<“Don’t worry, Mom… Don’t worry, Dad…”>

<“I won’t give up anymore. I love Sis Celes. I love Freed. I will lean on them just as they’ve always held onto me.”>

I pressed the letter gently to my heart. Its paper was still warm from my tears—but within its weight, I found something deeper than grief.

Resolve.

“Sis Celes…”

I glanced at her letter on the desk.

She must’ve read her own letter when she was alone—when neither Freed nor I could stand beside her. She must have blamed herself for everything. Even now, I know part of her still does.

But that letter… it didn’t just hurt. It gave her strength. It reminded her of who she is—and who we are to each other. And so she trained. She endured. She burned through her pain because she believed she could still reach us.

Because she believed she wasn’t too late.

<“I want to be like her.”>

<“I want to find that strength too. I want to be able to smile… so I can give her mine when she needs it most.”>

Mom and Dad were right.

They didn’t raise me to break.

They raised me to bloom.

And this room—this place where I’ve buried myself—is no longer where I belong.

I wiped my tears with the back of my hand, rising shakily to my feet.

“I need to return. To myself. To the me they loved. The cheerful Daisy—the girl who ran through wildflowers and laughed even when the wind was too strong.”

My gaze drifted to the drawer.

I opened it and found a small knife tucked beside a comb.

The reflection in the mirror stared back at me—a girl in a beautiful dress, her cheeks stained with grief, her eyes swollen with mourning. But beneath all of that…

A quiet ember still glowed.

My hand brushed through the golden strands that had grown far too long—hair that once shimmered in the sun but now felt heavy, like chains.

It hadn’t always been this long. The cheerful Daisy—the real me—never wore her hair past her shoulders. I used to complain it got in the way when I ran or played. But this hair… this was never mine. It belonged to someone else now. Someone who had survived—but forgotten how to live.

I stared into the mirror.

Tears still clung to the corners of my eyes, but for once… I could see through them.

“This isn’t me,” I whispered.

The knife trembled in my hand. Not from fear, but from the weight of everything I needed to let go—as if it were the only thing sharp enough to cut through the past.

I took a breath.

One last breath.

Then grabbed a thick handful of hair and—

*Schhnk—*

The sound was soft. Too soft for how loud it felt in my chest.

The severed strands slid between my fingers, fluttering to the floor like dead petals in the wind. I stared at them—at the memory of the girl who bore them.

Then I cut again.

Each lock that fell whispered a name I didn’t want to remember. Each slice of the blade severed a moment I’d carried too long.

And again.

Each slice a release.

Each strand falling like a goodbye.

When I finally looked up…

The girl in the mirror looked different.

Short hair now framed her face—uneven, messy, but mine.

Truly mine.

Her eyes were red. Her cheeks blotchy. But her gaze—my gaze—was steady.

I touched the edge of my jaw where the shortest strands curled slightly inward.

And I smiled.

“I’m back.”

A quiet breath escaped me. It wasn’t quite laughter. But it wasn’t a sob either.

The girl who used to smile.

The girl I want to be again.

My gaze dropped to my chest—grown fuller than it once was. Changed by the hands I never gave permission to. A part of me still flinched at the sight.

But…

I returned my gaze to the mirror.

And smiled.

“I guess that’s fine.”

My voice cracked—but the smile stayed.

Because I had given those memories to Sis Celes now. I wasn’t carrying them alone.

“They’re still a part of me… but they’re not all of me.”

I chuckled, the sound small, brittle, but real.

And for the first time in what felt like forever—

It didn’t feel like I was pretending.

“Ah… I haven’t told her about Freed yet.”

An important thing I must inform her.

Then—

I stood before the door.

My hand hovered inches from the handle, fingers trembling—not from cold, but from the memory of everything that waited beyond it.

Two months.

For two whole months, I hadn’t taken a single step past this threshold. The world beyond had become something I feared. No—something I had learned to fear. That hallway… it held memories. Footsteps I used to dread. Voices I learned not to trust. Even silence could be cruel.

My breath caught in my throat.

What if someone waited there?

What if the past found me the second I opened this door?

For a moment, I almost stepped back.

Almost gave in to the weight that still wrapped like iron around my ankles.

But then—

I remembered her.

Sis Celes.

Her voice when she held me, trembling. Her tears. Her warmth.

And Mom and Dad’s words—soft, guiding, wrapped around my heart like a lifeline.

“Rely on your sister. Share your burdens. Don’t carry them alone.”

I took a breath—deep, grounding.

And with it, I shook my head.

“I’m not that girl anymore,” I whispered to myself. “Not the one who can only cry, only hide.”

Not today.

Not anymore.

I placed my hand firmly on the handle.

And then—slowly, quietly—

I opened the door.

The soft light of the hallway poured in.

And I stepped into it.

Not as the girl I had been.

But as the girl I was choosing to become.

With every step, the petals of who I used to be fell away.

And in their place bloomed something fragile, fierce, and free.

I wasn’t the same girl who had closed that door.

I was the one who had dared to open it.

Like a daisy pushing through the cracks of stone—

I lifted my face toward the light.

Not because the pain was gone.

But because I was still alive.

Because even after the storm—this daisy still reaches for the sun.