Flowers Blooming in Sorrow After the Fog of Love Clears

It only took my veil slipping off for a stranger to see my true face, and suddenly, everyone was pointing fingers at me. They said I’d ruined my purity, and now even my father, Andrew Thomas, wants me dead.

But why?

Just because a man saw my face, I was supposed to die? If I didn’t, I was not virtuous? And if I didn’t apologize, I was not a dutiful daughter?

I had to fight for my right to live. In this corrupt kingdom, I had to keep fighting!

For three days, I had been kneeling in this cold, abandoned house.

Three days without a drop of water.

Right on time, my father came in, holding a whip. Behind him were my mother, Sofia Thomas, my brother Ronald, and the uncles who watched me grow up.

Ronald tried to help me up, but my father shoved him back.

“Aren’t you going to admit you were wrong?” My father demanded.

Exhausted, I could barely hold myself up, but my voice was hoarse and firm. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Why should I apologize?”

“You.” My father’s face twisted with rage as he shouted. “Fine, you ungrateful daughter! I’ll beat you to death until you admit your mistake!”

The small, cold house was crowded with more than twenty people, but not one of them spoke up for me.

I bit down hard on my lip, refusing to make a sound as the whip lashed across my back.

One strike, two. fifteen.

Finally, I couldn’t hold back any longer and coughed up blood.

“Please, stop!” My mother couldn’t take it anymore. She fell to her knees, weeping as she held me.

Lying in her arms, all I could do was silently curse the injustice of it all.

“Emily, just admit you were wrong. At least you’ll die quickly.” My mother’s voice trembled as she spoke.

Tears of disbelief filled my eyes. “Mom, do you really think I’m wrong?”

My mother had always loved me more than anyone. How could she ask me to admit to something I didn’t do?

Doesn’t she know that even if I confess, I’m still going to die?

My mother’s sobs echoed through the room. “I don’t want to watch you die! You’re a part of me. but there’s nothing I can do. This world is so cruel! Emily, don’t worry. If you die, I won’t go on living. I’ll follow you. I’ll be with you, okay?”

I forced a weak smile and struggled to speak. “Mom, I won’t admit to something I didn’t do! If the world is wrong, why should I apologize?”

After days of starvation and taking fifteen lashes, I couldn’t hold on any longer and passed out.

Three days ago, I went out with my best friend, Viola Louis.

Someone behind us tripped and, in their panic, accidentally pulled off my veil.

Viola tried to help me, but her veil slipped off too. It all happened so fast.

And just like that, Viola and I were unmasked in front of everyone.

My first thought? We’re doomed.

The second? Panic. I looked at Viola, desperate and frantic.

“Viola, under no circumstances can we admit we messed up, got it?” I said.

In this country, the law is clear: from the time she’s three years old, a woman’s face is only for her family and husband to see. If any other man catches a glimpse, she’s deemed impure and can be drowned in the spit of the crowd.

This barbaric custom has been around for over two centuries, taking countless women’s lives. Even women in their forties or fifties have been killed simply because a man saw their face.

When this happens, a woman has two possible fates.

The first is to confess. She must write a ten-thousand-word apology and then be taken to the public square to end her own life in front of everyone. Most women choose this path because it allows them to hold onto a shred of dignity, and after their death, they’re praised as "loyal and virtuous."

The second option is to refuse to admit guilt. These women cling to the hope of survival, refusing to accept death so easily. If they’re lucky, their family will help them escape to start a new life elsewhere. If they’re not, they might be beaten to death by their own kin, their body left outside to be spat on by passersby.

According to the law, anyone who tries to bury her will be thrown in jail.

*****

I woke up in my room, weak and unable to move.

My maid, Wendy, was crying beside me. “Miss, you’re awake! I thought I’d lost you.”

I was shocked. Where is everyone? I asked, “Wendy, where’s my father and the others?”

“Mr. Andrew and Mr. Ronald went to the palace. Don’t worry, they’ll figure something out,” she said.

I forced a bitter smile. How could they possibly change laws and traditions that have been in place for over two hundred years?

I grabbed Wendy’s hand and asked, “What about Viola? Is she okay?”

“There’s been no word from the Louis Residence, so Ms. Viola should be fine,” she said.

Thank goodness...

I managed to drink some thin oatmeal. I had spent three days kneeling in that cold, abandoned house, followed by two days of unconsciousness—meaning I had only five days left.

The law states that if a woman is caught in an act of impurity—like having her face seen by a man—she must be dealt with within ten days.

Today, my father and Ronald still hadn’t returned.

In the dead of night, I dragged my heavy body out of the house through a doghole and made my way straight to Awakening Manor.

Awakening Manor was founded fifteen years ago by a woman who stood for equality and against the rigid social hierarchy. Her ideas sparked a wave of support among women.

But her radical beliefs caught the attention of the authorities, and they found an excuse to have her killed.

However, her death didn’t stop her ideas from spreading.

The remaining members quietly moved Awakening Manor to a new location and continued to secretly recruit like-minded women.

Viola and I were among them.

In the darkness, I hurried as fast as I could and soon arrived at a door.

“Emily, you’re finally here. We were so worried about you.”

I smiled weakly.

My friend Janet, who was also part of the organization, grinned at me. “Emily, you’re going to be saved. You won’t die, I promise.”

I looked at her, confused when two people emerged from behind her—it was Viola and her mother.

Viola ran to me, tears streaming down her face. Only then did I realize Viola’s mother had known all along about her involvement with Awakening Manor but had turned a blind eye. Now that everything had gone wrong, she didn’t hesitate to join us to protect her daughter.

“Thank you, but Viola did this because of me,” I said to Viola’s mother.

“You’re Viola’s best friend. I’ve watched you grow up. I’ve been fed up with those unfair, ridiculous rules for a long time!” Viola’s mother said.

I broke into a tearful smile, the warmth of their hands grounding me.