ă€ŠFIONAă€‹


 Prelude

    Tell me, what do you consider as the most significant responsibility? As for me, being the eldest daughter of the Lamstrong family has instilled in me a sense of duty and nobility. Don''t get me wrong; I have never resented my family. On the contrary, I swore to do everything in my power to protect our home.

    My name is Fiona, and my father is Robert Lamstrong, a member of the ancient nobility who lost his title during the reign of King George IV. Although our family still owns a 5,000-acre estate in southern England, we are still looked down upon by other noble families because of our fallen status. But, I do not believe that anyone in the Lamstrong family really cares about that in the slightest. Regardless of our social class, as long as we can make ends meet, titles mean nothing.

    I have three younger siblings: Thena, David, and Diana. Being the oldest sister is the most difficult and sometimes unpleasant task. My sister Thena is the family''s biggest concern because she always rebels against social norms. She is a modern woman who believes that a woman should control her own destiny and does not need a man in society, or at least that''s what she claims. Her ideas are influenced by the feminist author McLorean in London, who is a famous advocate for women''s rights and opportunities. She is an inspiration to many women, including my sister Thena.

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    My younger brother, David, is my mother''s only son and her favorite, but he is not any easier to deal with. Even though he turned sixteen this year, David does not seem to worry about anything. Our parents sent him to St. Edinburgh boarding school for boys, hoping that he will take over the family business someday. This summer, David is back home, and he spends all day hanging out with his friends without doing anything productive. But I don''t dare say anything to him because he''s my mother''s favorite son!

    The youngest in the family, Diana, is fifteen years old this year. She''s the quietest and most mysterious one in the family. Us, the three girls in the family, do not attend public school but are homeschooled. While Thena is good at literature, Diana has a talent for painting. Every morning, she takes her easel outside to the balcony or the garden to paint landscapes. We wish she could open up to the family as she does to her painting. Every time I look at her from behind, I see a simple girl next to a lonely space.

    And what about me? You may wonder what kind of person I am. I do not think it would be objective if I assessed myself. I feel that I am just an ordinary girl who doesn''t hide anything. But how others perceive me...

 Chapter 1 - A Model Woman (1)

    On September 28th, 1910, at Drevolre Manor.

    "A model woman!" Thena exclaims as she jumps up from lying on the sofa in the drawing room meant for guests, after being scolded by me. As usual, she is engrossed in reading the latest novel by Miss McLorean, and then surveys the whole room with a judgmental look.

    "What did you say?" I ask irritably, looking at the young girl holding a cup of tea that is gradually getting cold. I scold Thena for not maintaining the elegance of a young lady. Oh my! Is there anyone else like her, wearing a dress while lying on the sofa without any care in the world? You might say that I am a difficult person, but I accept that it is necessary to teach my siblings, especially with other young men in the house. Today, my younger brother invited his friend over, and they are currently in this very drawing room.

    Thena places the book on the table and stretches to pick a grape and puts it in her mouth. No well-bred young lady would sit and eat like that! She changes her position from lying down to sitting cross-legged, as if she is challenging me. Thena chews and mumbles, replying: "You sound like those model women from the past."

    Upon hearing these words, I am truly angry. How dare she compare me to those model women of the past? I am not like them! I only wish everything to follow a proper and well-mannered path. I put my tea cup down on the table with force, causing the saucer to hit the tabletop and make a loud noise. David and Kevin, my younger brother''s friend, are playing and making a lot of noise behind me, which also adds to my discomfort. I stand up and clap my hands twice to get their attention. I am good at managing my emotions. So when the two boys look at me with an unnatural expression, I just smile and say gently:

    "David, why don''t you two go outside and play?"

    Kevin seems unfamiliar with this way of speaking, but my younger brother is very clear. He knows that I am preparing to "educate" the young ones, in this case Thena and not himself, so he immediately pulls his friend out. Thena also sneaks away, but I catch her and tell her to sit back down in her seat, beginning my "education"!

    "How dare you behave so carelessly?" I scold angrily.

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    "I just want to feel comfortable," Thena says softly. She is still stubborn, but does not want to make me angrier.

    "You know there are men in the house! And you''re not wearing a corset?" I furrow my brow.

    "Corsets are a prison, repressing a woman''s self-expression..." Thena says with a proud look! And I know exactly where my sister got that quote from!

    "Did you learn that from those scandalous novels?" I take the novel in my hand and look at the title. An Irish Girl... Perhaps I''m too old to appreciate these ideas, even though Thena and I are only two years apart.

    "That''s not scandalous! That''s modern!" Thena snatches the book from my hand. "I see this issue still exists in our society. Women like us are not valued."

    "We are always valued..." I reply. "In some ways."

    "Come on, Fi," Thena shakes her head. "Eventually, you, me, and Di will have to marry some wealthy or equal man to have a place in this society. Don''t you see how unfair that is?"

    The story that was once tense now becomes a moment to ponder. Unlike Thena, I am content with what I have in the present. I will accept being a good daughter in this society. But Thena''s perspective also has some truth to it, I just have not taken the time to consider it.

    Thena stands up with her novel. This is not the first time we have had conversations like this. After looking at me for a while, she says:

    "I''ll put on a dress and pay more attention."

    I give no reply, only silently lifting my cup of tea to sip. The young one knows well enough that I wish not to speak of the matter any further and departs of her own accord. I sigh deeply and rise, making my way to the window where I gaze outside. Beside the pond, my sister Diana sits in quiet contemplation, sketching away. At times, I wish Thena could find some peace from Diana, and that the latter could find some energy from the former. In the corner to the right, David and his companion are engaged in a lively discussion on some topic or other. In this moment, I wish for the carefree nature of the boy. I sigh quietly. I believe that none of the four of us sisters are entirely satisfied or content with what we have presently.

    The chime of the clock rouses me from my reverie. I had nearly forgotten. Tonight is the anniversary of my parents'' wedding!

 Chapter 1 - A Model Woman (2)

    My sisters and I, with the help of Kevin and the old butler''s son, Enzo Madilson, have decorated the dining room to welcome this special day. In the centre, there is an expensive rectangular table with a floral patterned tablecloth, and a green rose vase with candles on either side. The cutlery is polished to perfection. Today marks my parents'' 20th wedding anniversary, and I want to give them the grandest celebration possible, hoping that one day I will have the same for myself!

    The whole family looks at each other with a happy expression. My parents sit at the short ends of the table, with my father leaning against the fireplace and my mother facing a portrait of our ancestor, Mr. Bertie. They gaze at each other as if they are still deeply in love as they were in their late teens. My father, back then, was the son of a wealthy landowner, while my mother was the daughter of a printer in town. Despite my grandfather''s strong objection, my father was determined to marry my mother, and in the end, my grandfather relented and allowed the wedding to take place. Since I heard their love story, I have always dreamed of my own marriage, where I will be able to marry the man I truly love!

    I sit opposite Enzo, a young man with a chiselled face and a tall, masculine figure. We have been playing with each other since we were young, and it seems we can understand each other''s thoughts very well. I glance at him and then lower my head, trying to catch a glimpse of myself on the surface of the ceramic plate. Maybe it is because my hair is not styled well today that I feel embarrassed! Sitting next to me is Thena, with Kevin sitting opposite the little girl. I do not know about anyone else, but Kevin seems to be smitten with Thena. Actually, I am not sure, but David kept teasing the two of them, and I could sense Kevin''s unrequited feelings. I feel a little sorry for the young boy. Kevin endeavours to greet Thena with his sunny smile, but the young girl only responds with a faint grin. Sitting at the end of the table, Diana is beside me, with David sitting across from Thena. The dishes are being served, and everyone is happily enjoying their meal.

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    After finishing, we gather in the living room to play a group game. Mother leans her head on Father''s shoulder, both content sitting on the sofa. Diana sits on the floor in front of them, while the darling son of our parents sits in the adjacent seat. Kevin and Enzo have also found chairs to participate in guessing the keyword that Thena is trying to convey through her body language. And me? There is a piano next to the window, beside the fireplace, and I am tasked to become the pianist for the family. I am not good at puzzles, so I retreat to play the piano. Fur Elise, a timeless piece and always my favourite. My fingers glide over the keys, but my eyes still pay attention to everyone. It''s amusing that no one can guess the keyword "chameleon," regardless of Thena''s circus-like performance. When the answer is revealed, everyone falls over laughing with joy. Among them, only Enzo seems uninterested in the game. I see his gaze is elsewhere. I smile femininely. My fingers weave a handkerchief on the keyboard. The rhythm of the piano gets faster and faster, like weaving a net into my heart. I laugh sarcastically. Oh dear! I missed a key!

 Chapter 1 - A Model Woman (3)

    The party is over and everyone has retired to bed. My parents left early, leaving only us young ones. Kevin will be staying here until the end of summer, while Enzo has already become a part of the family. His room is on the ground floor, along with the other servants. My siblings have gone to bed, but Enzo and I are doing a final check of the nooks and crannies in the house. With a candle in hand, I follow Enzo through the corridors in the dark. The flame illuminates the darkest corners, including secrets that I have been keeping for so long.

    Indeed, I have a secret. But upon reflection, it is not truly a secret, as I will eventually have to reveal it to everyone. Enzo leads me back to his room on the upper floor. I bid him farewell and enter my own room, but my heart beats incessantly behind the door. I lean against it and realise that Enzo is still standing there. I hastily open the door, just as he blows out the candle. I do not need light to see his face, for it has been imprinted in my mind for so long. Enzo is my secret!

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    I intend to say something to him, but my lips suddenly freeze. I see the moonlight shimmering through the window ¨C bright, beautiful, yet also melancholic and full of sentimentality. Enzo seems to want to say something as well, but holds back. The space around us becomes awkwardly silent. I sigh and say hesitantly, "Good night."

    "The same to you," he replies.

    I close the door and turn to my room, while Enzo walks slowly down the stairs. I take a deep breath and walk over to the open window. The beautiful moon is my symbol. Feeling sad, I lean my head against the windowsill and quietly recall the words that Thena said earlier in the day. Am I truly a model woman?

 Chapter 1 - A Model Woman (4)

    Every weekend, my family and I attend church to hear the sermon. We are devout people, and our faith is unwavering. But today, only the women in our household go to pray, as the men have their own affairs to attend to. The only man who stays to accompany us is Enzo. Initially, Kevin was also eager to stay with us, but David managed to convince him otherwise. Upon reflection, the men would not gain anything from coming along, as they would only doze off during the sermon. Therefore, it is more appropriate for them to seek their own pleasures!

    He steps out of the car and guides each of us out with his hand. The four women sit in the second row, with Enzo sitting next to me. Inside the room, the solemnity and purity of the faith are like a gift from heaven bestowed upon frail humanity. I am a devout person, and I long to receive that sacred thing to soothe my soul. The priest on the high pulpit, with his voice like a heavenly melody, makes his sermons penetrate deep into my heart. I am proud of my faith. I am nurtured with the reasoning in the Bible, with the sanctity of the Holy Spirit. I am a person of virtue, of tradition. Nothing can make me go against my beliefs. But why do I keep looking at Enzo, who is sitting next to me?

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    The priest continues to expound on his teachings to his believers, and I cannot ignore this:

    "1 John 4:20 mentions: Whoever claims to love God yet hates a brother or sister is a liar. For whoever does not love their brother and sister, whom they have seen, cannot love God, whom they have not seen."

    I do not know if I am a hypocrite, with the Bible as my shield for my deceitful ways. Sometimes, I find my children very annoying and despicable, if I may be blunt. But I love them more than ever. I even have thoughts of sacrificing my own happiness to become a pillar for my family. However, when sitting next to Enzo, my steadfast will, like an eternal iceberg, suddenly begins to melt. Can I stay faithful to my belief for eternity?

 Chapter 2 - The Shining Armour Knight (1)

    On the 30th of October, 1910, at Drevolre Estate.

    A day in the life of us young ladies is not particularly remarkable. If we are not sitting together, sipping fragrant Earl Grey tea and chatting idly about those who are not present, then we can only dream of the handsome young men we long for. Today, we also have a tea party, but the topic is somewhat different from usual. We are discussing the Harvest Festival, which takes place tomorrow.

    My two sisters and I, along with Miss Violet and Miss Harlot, sit at the same table. And although I have stated that the topic of conversation will be about tomorrow''s festival, someone''s name is sure to be mentioned. How unremarkable!

    "My father said that many families from London will come to our place tomorrow," Miss Harlot sips her tea and gently places it back on the table.

    "I heard the same thing," Violet smiles mischievously. "The Mortens are coming too!"

    "Mr Morten, the owner of the London Bank, isn''t he?" Thena interjects. "Maybe I could ask him to review my writing!"

    "Or see if you are a suitable bride for one of his sons," I sip my tea, laughing lightly. "He has two sons of marrying age. I heard this is a chance for him to look for prospective brides."

    "No need!" Thena shakes her head, her tongue in cheek. "I will choose my own husband!"

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    "If you continue to write articles as you do, then you will definitely have to choose your own husband!" Miss Harlot laughs sarcastically. They are actually mocking the articles that my younger sister writes for the Suffolk newspaper. Miss Harlot''s father, Jake Dalton, is the editor-in-chief of the paper and he has secretly rejected the articles that my sister has tried to submit. I know that it was thanks to one occasion that Mr Dalton could not take it anymore and sent my family my sister''s articles. They were actually not bad, with strong and convincing arguments, just not at the right time. If only she knew how to subtly criticise the colonial regime, perhaps they would have made the front page!

    "Then one day, you will have trouble with what you write, Thena."

    My reticent younger sister, Diana, suddenly speaks up after a period of silence. She avoids looking at Thena when she speaks, instead fixating on the tea in her moving cup. This surprises us all, but Thena is incensed:

    ˇ°Shut up, Diana!"

    "Thena!" I scold. "Don''t raise your voice like that!"

    "Noble women always find ways to protect each other, but I don''t see that here!" Thena says, then angrily stands up and leaves. I only catch a glimpse of her disappearing behind a thorny rose bush. I know she is feeling hurt, but in some way, her actions will undoubtedly have consequences. My parents have forbidden her from continuing to write, but I know she still secretly sends off her work under various pseudonyms. Her fierce determination, I am amazed, has never been extinguished despite her works being constantly derided like a contagious disease.

    I look at Diana, who looks downcast, while Miss Harlot and Violet avoid eye contact. With no other options, I pour everyone more tea, smile, and segue into a different topic:

    "Tell me about other faces, won''t you?"

 Chapter 2 - The Shining Armour Knight (2)

    That afternoon, everyone gathers in the East garden of the estate to prepare for the festival. As tradition dictates, the various families in the region come together in one location to display their agricultural products. This year, the honour falls upon my family''s farm. The festival will consist of three parts: in the morning, the vendors will compete to see who has the best agricultural products; during midday and afternoon, there will be a self-service buffet and a tea party; and the highlight of the festival will be the evening ball. Everyone is specially invited to attend the ball at our castle, and to dance as long as they are appropriately dressed. It does not have to be expensive attire, as long as they wear their most beautiful outfit.

    Before the sun disappears behind the rugged mountain ranges, we come to see the booth of the Lamstrong family. It must be said that everyone in the region values this festival. I see that the other booths are almost ready, and even people from far away have set up tents to sleep in their booths. David takes Thena and Kevin to see the other booths; my parents and Diana stay inside to prepare for tomorrow''s feast, so I will be responsible for our booth. When I arrive at the booth''s location, the sight of Enzo transporting crossbars to set up the stage hits me in the eye. My golden hair is not as shining as his smile. I will honestly say that I am completely fascinated by this young man. But as a woman of character, I will not reveal my yearning. Enzo is joking with the relatives, but when he sees my gaze, he turns and walks towards his sweetheart. I quietly turn to talk to the gardener of our house, Mr. John.

    "I hear you have produced the largest pumpkin ever, haven''t you?"

    "A big accomplishment indeed, my lady!" John exclaims excitedly. Without wasting much time, he leads me to see his one-of-a-kind pumpkin at the back.

    If one were to say a big accomplishment, it may sound somewhat exaggerated, but one cannot deny that it is the largest pumpkin I have ever seen. I sit down, running my hand over the rough surface of the pumpkin. I cannot hide my amazement and excitement. I stand up, turning to praise the skill of this talented gardener:

    "You have truly opened my eyes, John!"

    "Everything is for you and your family, my lady!"

    I smile and watch him go to oversee the other stages. At this moment, Enzo also happens to approach. He nods to greet me as a courtesy, and I just smile slightly. Looking at the relatives working continuously to build a large booth, I cannot help but compliment:

    "We will win tomorrow!"

    "My lady, even though I am proud of our product, I do not think so," Enzo responds respectfully. I know exactly how he speaks.

    "Oh, why is that?" I ask in surprise.

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    "Because there is something even more perfect here," Enzo replies slowly and meaningfully. Like a fisherman, he waits for the fish to bite the hook!

    "Tell me, Enzo," I feel a little annoyed that I am not getting an immediate answer. And it is crazy when I say this, I feel a little jealous of what he is about to say.

    Far away, my two siblings and Kevin are walking towards me with the sunset trailing behind them. When I turn to Enzo, I see that he has been staring at me for a while. I am both afraid of being caught and embarrassed like a little girl who has just received the doll she has always wished for. I look elsewhere, unable to hide the blush on my cheeks. If anyone asks, I will say I am allergic.

    I avoid his gaze, but my ears still hear his amused laughter. I clasp my hands tightly together to keep myself calm. My siblings are getting closer, and I silently count each beat in my chest. One, two, three, four... I think I might have skipped a beat.

    ˇ°My lady, the most beautiful thing is the person I am looking at right now."

    I am sure I have skipped a beat when he whispers sweet nothings in my ear. Like a hymn, I feel like I am ascending to heaven with a sense of serenity I have never felt before. It is a pity that I am too well-behaved and restricted by rules, or else I would have turned around and kissed him right now. Damn it, he has made me crazy! At once, I do not know what to do or how to behave properly, except for scolding him in a soft tone.

    "Watch your language, Enzo!"

    But he knows how to put me in a dilemma. He pushes me to the brink of breaking faith, morality, and virtue. I resist, but I also want to give in. A weak person like me is gradually tamed by him.

    "Yes, my lady!"

    Enzo lowers his head, seeming to know his mistake, but his tone rises high and tender, making it impossible for him to be serious. I purse my lips to keep from becoming too angry by laughing like a lunatic. Luckily, my siblings have come to rescue me. David throws me an apple, and luckily Enzo helps catch it for me, as I am a poor catcher. He hands the apple to me, and I try to avoid his gaze as much as possible. David bites into the apple in his hand and says:

    "This year seems to be very difficult!"

    "Why?" I look at David and the apple in my hand.

    "Gramwell''s apple," Thena answers. "Try it and you''ll know."

    "I won''t eat it here!" I am very difficult when it comes to these issues. A noblewoman would not do such things.

    David looks at Thena and the two of them shrug, ignoring me as they are used to my rigidity. David splits the apple in half with the strength of his hand. He raises the apple in front of me, and to my surprise, the apple has no seeds! A few minutes ago I was still marvelling at the pumpkin from our house, now my eyes are lit up by an apple that can fit in the palm of my hand like this.

    A pumpkin can be larger than usual. But why does this apple not have seeds? Can humans overcome the usual laws of nature?

    The afternoon sun slips over everyone''s heads, flowing like the silk headbands of Muslim women in the land of the windy desert.

 Chapter 2 - The Shining Armour Knight (3)

    On October 31, 1910, at Drevolre Manor,

    Do I appear anxious? Considering the trembling of my hands and the dust on them, the answer is yes. I am not one to easily adapt to new situations, and with the presence of so many strangers from different regions, I feel quite small. But as the eldest daughter of the clan, I cannot stand idly by and do nothing. I take a deep breath, put on my white gloves and light pink fur hat, I smile and head towards a group of gentlemen who are engrossed in discussion.

    I breathe a sigh of relief. Fortunately, my father is already conversing with these tall men. I touch my father''s shoulder lightly and he lends me a hand. All eyes turn to me, which makes me feel slightly uncomfortable. I curtsey before them as my father introduces me. It''s strange how they all look alike, from their manners to their styles, sophisticated yet unremarkable. Only one, who looks the youngest among them, leaves the most impression on me. Not because he is more charming than the others, but because his moustaches make me want to laugh. It takes a lot of courage to go out and socialise with such an appearance. But I do not express any attitude because I am a reputable lady. I only observe, but do not speak. I only judge, but do not show it.

    If I had to pay attention to any of the men, which is a hypothetical scenario, I would choose my father. Don''t misunderstand me, I mean he is the ideal man. My father gently holds my hand, as if protecting me from the strong smell of cigarette smoke emanating from those men. Oh, their old eyes eagerly waiting to seize the rose in the early morning gives me chills! My father turns to me as if throwing a life raft to the right person. He speaks softly:

    "Fiona, why don''t you take Mr. Mortens around to visit the booths?"

    "My pleasure, Father!"

    As a young and well-educated lady, I kneel and answer, then I glance over to two young gentlemen. As it turns out, they are the sons of Mr Lionel Morten, the owner of the prestigious London bank. The taller one, with a disdainful and untrustworthy face, is his eldest son, Augustin Morten. The other one, the young man with a moustache that almost made me faint, is Augustin''s younger brother, Andermis Morten. In literature, men with such moustaches are usually portrayed as deceitful or insincere, but for some reason, I would trust the younger brother more. Don''t ask me why, perhaps it is because of my poor taste in men?

    Andermis seems less talkative than his older brother, which means I will have to say a lot to exchange words with Augustin. I walk alongside him as if we will never walk on the same path. I wear a green dress and my curly hair is styled high; Augustin is dressed in a cream-coloured tuxedo, and his haughty face gives him the appearance of a charming officer. On the other hand, Andermis looks like a recluse, with deep poetry that delves into the heart of humanity, a scholar who lives in seclusion deep in the woods with dreamy rivers, dressed in a brown suit. I would rather talk to Andermis if he weren''t so quiet.

    "So, this is your first time in our countryside?" I begin to chat as we walk.

    "Yes, if it weren''t for our father having some business here, we wouldn''t have had the opportunity to visit this place," Augustin responds to me with a smile. I won''t lie, he has a very handsome smile.

    "Well, Mr Morten, tell me what you think of our countryside?" I stop at the Sullivan''s stall. This year, he brings purple roses.

    "Please call me Augustin, my fair lady," Augustin touches a blooming purple rose in front of him, and inexplicably a petal falls. Mr. Sullivan notices and presents the rose to him. Augustin smells it and smiles gently. He hands it to me, and I receive it without knowing what else to do. As we continue to walk, he expresses, "For the first time in twenty-eight years, I feel peace. I never thought a countryside like this still exists."

    "You donˇŻt mean that..." I respond with a light chuckle.

    "Why do you think so?" he stops in front of Gilbert''s shop, and that stops me as well. All three of us pause to admire the butterfly-shaped orchids that look fascinating. "Do you think I''m not telling the truth because I''m a city man?"

    Mr. Gilbert gifts me an orchid to take with me. As I admire this lifelike bloom, my soul feels purified. I walk away gently, looking up at Augustin walking beside me, and I reply softly, "No, sir." I shake my head gently. "I just want to say that this peace may not be all that you will experience here."

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    "You''re truly a..."

    "Complicated woman?" I shrug, pushing the conversation with him.

    "Sophisticated. That''s what I think," he responds.

    I smile and stop. I lead him to my shop, where my siblings are standing. I approach my mother and kiss her on both cheeks as a greeting. I introduce everyone with great enthusiasm, which makes Enzo, who is there, uncomfortable. But God knows that smile is only a pretence. Even if Augustin were a terrible and rude man, I would still sit and drink tea with him if necessary. Oh Enzo! Please forgive me, but you know it is something I have to do!

    Enzo''s solemn gaze as he looks at me weighs heavily on my heart. I wish he understood the burden of responsibility I bear. The Lord taught me to be dutiful to my family, and I have obeyed without question. But I also love Enzo, and that leaves me torn. Don''t ask me whom I would choose, for I am not strong enough to leave either side. I feign meeting another gentleman who needs to be welcomed, so my mother and siblings can talk to the Morten brothers. I need a moment of solitude now. This crowd is truly maddening!

    I stand under the awning, silently observing everyone enjoying the fair while my heart feels heavy. I need some peace before I can return to my place. Sometimes, all of this feels like a noose around my neck, binding me to duty and isolating me from my own desires. It would be easier if I were not tied to Enzo. I love him, and I don''t regret it. I just wish I could be as carefree as Thena, then I would not have to struggle like this.

    I am so focused on my despair that I do not notice Augustin''s younger brother approaching me. Only when he speaks do I startle out of my reverie.

    "Do you mind if I stand here with you?" Andermis asks.

    "No..." I reply softly. I am actually quite bothered, but I will not say anything.

    "Things are quite hectic, aren''t they?" Andermis smirks wryly. "Hectic to the point of madness. I wish my father didn''t make me come along."

    At first, I am surprised by his frankness. He does not bother to hide his discontent with the bustle here. Like a refreshing breeze, he makes me laugh. Don''t misunderstand, I am only laughing out of surprise, not because of any other emotions.

    "Aren''t you afraid I''ll judge you?" I joke.

    "You''ll judge me? Come on, I know you don''t enjoy any of this either. I can see it in your eyes when you look at me."

    I am taken aback by Andermis'' confident demeanour, a man I have noticed from the outset. I could not say anything in the first few minutes because I felt like a fish caught in a net. I thought I was too familiar and adept at pretending, yet now I am easily caught. Is it really true that a gaze can expose emotions? Or is it because I was too distracted in the conversation, or Andermis was too clever to notice. On this point, I lean towards the latter.

    "Have I surprised you?" Andermis bursts out laughing. His moustaches make this story even more humorous.

    I unconsciously remove my gloves. My impression of him has gradually improved, no longer as ridiculous as before. On the contrary, I find this man quite intriguing. I lightly chuckle and exclaim:

    "You do have more than just those moustaches."

    "Don''t you like them?"

    Andermis'' face seems a little panicked when I comment on his moustache. It seems that he is very proud of them. I am not the type of woman who plays coy, but sometimes I can joke around. My fingertip touches the tail of one of his moustaches. I laugh contemptuously like a child seeing a strange object. I purse my lips and say:

    "I wouldn''t be surprised if you still haven''t found a lady!"

    Finishing my sentence, I burst into laughter and put on my gloves. Andermis is still standing there touching his moustache with a dejected look on his face. I walk away but turn my head back after a few steps. I smile, actually those arches are not that bad, but Andermis'' desperate demeanour will haunt me and make me burst into laughter in the middle of the night.

    I walk back to him, deftly adjust his tie. I take a deep breath, place a hand on his chest. I smile and say:

    "It''s not that bad upon closer inspection."

    "I know you''re just comforting me!" Andermis shakes his head.

    "Let''s go back to society, Mr. Morten," I roll my eyes. "We''ve been gone for too long!"

 Chapter 2 - The Shining Armour Knight (4)

    I rest my hands on the bedpost while the maid tightens my dress. We are to attend a luncheon party, and so the young ladies of good breeding must wear new dresses. These dresses not only enhance our beautiful curves but also prevent us from looking indecorous while eating. We can hardly breathe, let alone dine with ease.

    "You cannot imagine how much trouble Mr. Grey causes!"

    Thena suffers the same fate as I, being tightly laced and obliged to receive other guests. However, I must commend my sister''s efforts not to embarrass herself or others with her strong-willed personality. I have finished dressing, and the maid is now changing my earrings. I smile and ask:

    "Orlando Grey, what about him?"

    "He spoke to me about his estate, his horse named Cooper, which everyone in London is desperately asking for their horses to get bred by because of its racing success, and his exceptional horsemanship skills!"

    Thena furrows her brows and continues to tell me. She has truly endured too much, and though I feel sorry for her, I cannot help but find the story amusing. I try to maintain a straight face and say:

    "He wants to marry you."

    Thena continues speaking as if someone owes her something:

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    "But what do the horse and horsemanship have to do with it?"

    "He wants to ˇ®rideˇŻ you!"

    Diana interjects, causing both myself and Thena to pause. Diana is not one for excessive speech, but when she does comment, it always leaves us stunned. Thena gapes at the joke she just made. She calls out to Diana as if to scold her for something, but then everyone bursts into laughter. This is one of those rare moments where us sisters become so intimate. If it is not a quarrel, then everyone just follows their own journey. I gaze at the smiles on their faces, and immediately all my anxieties about the burden on my shoulders become lighter than ever before.

    I have never done this before, but today I decide to try something new. I step up to Thena''s side and embrace her tightly to my chest. I stroke her long hair and smell the fragrance of roses. I take a deep breath and begin to speak from the bottom of my heart:

    "Thank you, Thena...for today."

    I can hear the hesitation in her breath. Perhaps she is going to rebuke me for thanking her, for not revealing her personality and for giving in. But then I feel she just wants to hug me tighter. Sometimes, scolding or reminding is unnecessary. Like Thena, the little one will know in a certain situation that she needs to do something and not do anything.

    Then I also step up and place a kiss on Diana''s head. Love must be spread evenly, and I want them to understand the sacrifices, endurance that they have, are and will go through are necessary. As Corinthians 5:7 says, "Cleanse out the old leaven that you may be a new lump, as you really are unleavened. For Christ, our Passover lamb, has been sacrificed."

 Chapter 2 - The Shining Armour Knight (5)

    We begin the banquet of free choice. Each person holds a plate and selects the dishes they desire. I walk around with my plate but can only find a sweet cake. It is not that the food is not good, but I feel uninspired.

    "Ah, there you are!"

    A masculine voice suddenly interrupts my thoughts and brings me back to reality. I turn to see Augustin, and I greet him like a proper lady. I feel weak standing next to him, without any support, but no one is here to rescue me.

    "How do you find the food here?" I ask.

    Augustin does not answer immediately but stares at me intently. I feel uncomfortable under his gaze. My forced smile blooms, and my eyes scour the table for something to help me. I take the opportunity to pick up the sweet cake on my plate and offer it to him. Soft as a feather, I ask:

    "Would you like some strawberry cake, Augustin?"

    He takes the cake from my hand and laughs awkwardly. Augustin looks away, trying to hide his embarrassment. He puts the cake in his mouth and slowly swallows it. Perhaps the cake is too sweet for his taste, as I can see the tension on his face. I put my hand over my mouth, giggling softly, and ask:

    "Is it too sweet for you?"

    "Yes," Augustin shakes his head and laughs. "But it''s delicious."

    I smile and continue to search for something to eat. We do not speak for a few minutes. Honestly, I do not want to say anything more, because I know what is behind Augustin''s eyes. But if I remain silent, it is not proper etiquette. I will be cursed if the Lamstrong family is smeared because of my stubbornness. I find a croissant for myself, but I do not hurry to eat it. I look over to Augustin, who is also searching for something to eat. I start a conversation:

    "Your brother is not coming?"

    "Andermis has some business to attend to, so he has returned to London," Augustin replies.

    "Returned all the way to London?" I exclaim. Now I worry that I have offended him with my comment and caused him to leave early.

    "Don''t worry, Andermis will be back in time for the evening ball."

    Despite this, I still worry. I had better not say anything other than polite pleasantries. People are becoming more and more sensitive, and one cannot predict how one''s words will hurt others! I gaze at the cream horn on my plate. Oh dear! Even this pastry reminds me of those horns! Have I truly been cursed for my jests? May God forgive me and spare my family from punishment for my thoughtless words!

    I try to push my anxiety aside and change the subject. This time, I will bring up the fair.

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    "Was everything overwhelming for you today?"

    "A bit..." Augustin nods. "I didn''t think there were so many unique and exotic things in this world. I was very impressed by the pumpkins at your farm. I think it will win first prize."

    "Really?" I smile softly. "Although I would love to win, I don''t think that will happen."

    Augustin takes a moment to look at me without saying anything. After a while, I switch to another topic:

    "Is there a festival in London?" I step away from the table in surprise, and he follows with an empty plate. Instead, Augustin just chooses a glass of fruit juice.

    "We are very busy with our work. You know, running a bank is not easy," Augustin looks at me with gentle eyes and says.

    "I have never been to London..." I reply softly with a real sense of regret. "I really want to know what it''s like there."

    "Believe me, you will get bored quickly!" he laughs. "What you will see are just rows of houses with long lines of cars behind each other."

    We laugh happily together. And it''s not an overstatement, I genuinely laugh with Augustin. Not because of him, but because of his witty way of speaking. We stop talking for a while, I focus on finishing my cake while Augustin sips his wine. After a while, he decides to break the atmosphere:

    "You can come to London anytime you want. I''ll show you the places I know."

    "I wouldn''t dare to bother you," I bow my head. This woman knows when a man says something, he has a purpose.

    I plan to find an excuse to leave as soon as I have the chance, but Augustin takes a step ahead. He suddenly puts his hand on my hand, and looks at me with eyes full of affection. I swear, if I hadn''t met and loved Enzo before, or if I were an easy girl, of course I am not, I would have leaned into Augustin''s arms immediately. Augustin looks at me with a serious expression, and it makes my heart skip a beat. In a warm and deep tone, he says:

    "I want you to bother me, indeed."

    In a moment, I do not know how to answer. I can feel the warmth of his hand, as well as the tightening grip becoming more apparent. My mind must race to find an excuse to refuse. I am afraid that if I do not find one in time, I will have to push him away, and that will tarnish my image and position. It is not easy for women like me to be placed in such situations.

    I gently smile, slowly withdraw my hand and respond softly: "Then I hope those places will be as wonderful as I expect."

    I call this response intelligent, as Augustin did not realise that I had withdrawn my hand. When I see him smile, I immediately stand up and ask to leave. As I walk away, Augustin stand up and call out to me, making me unable to be alert and forced to turn back to the conversation:

    "Yes?"

    "About the ball tonight..." Augustin hesitates. I could see his hand shaking. "I don''t know if you have a dance partner already..."

    I miss a beat without answering, then I straighten up and respond bluntly: "I actually have a dance partner... But you can dance with me right after."

    With that said, I curtsy and leave immediately. Have I been too lenient? Am I also playing with Augustin? I do not know anymore. I just try to keep everything under my control. I do everything to soothe my conscience, to prevent my family''s position from declining. And I lied! I have not had any dance partners yet, but I do not want him to be the first to dance with me. That position has been reserved for someone else!

 Chapter 2 - The Shining Armour Knight (6)

    The afternoon tea party is taking place amidst great anticipation. The judges of the festival, including Mr. Morten, are seated. Augustin sits in front of me, and as the judges speak, he turns to smile at me. However, all I am concerned about is that Andermis has not yet arrived.

    My sisters sit up straight, attentive, listening along with my mother, while David, Kevin, and my father sit at a separate table. My tea cup is empty, and I turn to look around for the tea server. Thena sits next to me, chewing on a sweet cake noisily, lacking in feminine grace. But before I can even speak, my mother gives her a sharp look that forces her to behave. I smile with satisfaction. My sisters are all more afraid of my mother than my father. In fact, when we were young, we secretly called her the Queen of Fire because when my mother got angry, it was truly unbearable!

    "Tea here, my lady!"

    A familiar voice and figure are right beside me. I try to swallow my excitement, but it is not that easy. I look at Enzo in his butler outfit and smile:

    "I thought there wouldn''t be anyone serving anymore!"

    "Fiona must have drunk more tea than what she ate," Thena teases me.

    "I heard that drinking too much tea can make your teeth yellow," Diana comments.

    "But mine are still white!" I tease my little sisters. I have become too friendly and they are no longer afraid of me.

    "Quiet, girls!"

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    My mother scolds, and immediately we all become as quiet as mice. Enzo and I secretly smile at each other. He carefully fills my teacup, as tenderly as the way he cherishes me. I can hear my heart beating like a nightingale singing to welcome the morning. Taking advantage of everyone''s inattention, I slip a piece of paper into his hand. I eagerly await Enzo''s expression when he reads my scribbled note. As expected, a satisfied smile appears on that bright face. Watching him walk away with a smirk, I happily finish my tea. Suddenly I remember Diana''s words, wondering if my teeth will turn yellow?

    Finally, the announcement time arrives after a lengthy speech. I predict that the prize will go to the Gramwell family with their "magical" apples. Honestly, I still hope that John from my family will win, but Gramwell is truly deserving! I take a piece of cake and eat it, only then noticing Augustin staring at me. I sigh wearily, but still smile back at him. I know for sure that someday there will be something between him and me, even if it''s just intuition, but it feels so real. I will pray every day before God that my life will separate from his. I have dedicated my whole life to God and to this family, so I will not let my heart be stolen anymore.

    I see the familiar figure of someone walking up to sit with Augustin. It must be Andermis, I guess. Strangely, when Andermis appears, I feel more comfortable than when I am alone with Augustin. But unlike my brother, Andermis has not even looked down at me since he arrived, as if completely avoiding me. I am a proud woman, and of course, that troubles me.

    As the uncomfortable feeling swells within me, a loud announcement and a round of applause pull me back:

    "The winner today belongs to... John Morgan of Drevolre Estate!"

    I gasp! Could it be true? That we have won this year''s prize? Before I can fully process the shock, I notice Augustin once again looking down at me, clapping in approval. My pride diminishes by half. I suspect this is one of his tricks, thinking it will make me happy, but it is not grand enough to make me proud. I bow my head to conceal my disappointment. A moment later, I look up at him. This time, I no longer smile or appear friendly. I regard him with a cold countenance, like a wife who no longer loves her husband. And perhaps Augustin realises this. His expression of surprise and confusion only makes me more uncomfortable. I force a smile and applaud my family''s victory, but for me, it is a humiliation.

 Chapter 2 - The Shining Armour Knight (7)

    Tonight, I don a deep red evening gown and a more avant-garde makeup than usual. I decide to abandon the image of a modest and virtuous woman and create a confident, alluring Fiona. It seems like a joyful day, one of the few days when I can be comfortable and unconstrained. I desire to experience being a different version of myself. I have a feeling that if I do not seize today, I may not have another opportunity in the future.

    My family''s home is now like a communal dwelling. Just kidding, it is more like a palace. Laughter echoes throughout the house, the sound of first-time dancers practising their steps, the clinking of glasses bumping into each other... I walk down the corridor, and nothing escapes my ears. Some people greet me when they see me, but how do they know the offensive and malicious words they say that I hear? But I do not show any attitude. I still happily greet them in return and head straight to where the party will begin.

    In a little while, the ball will commence, and many couples will take to the floor together. Women like me, while waiting, sit at tables and chat. As I prepare to eat the hazelnut I am holding, an unwanted man appears in front of me.

    "My lady, could you spare me a moment?"

    "No," I wish I could say it clearly and straightforwardly, but I am too weak to utter it. Contrary to my own desires, I place the hazelnut back on the dish and bid farewell to the women sitting at the table, then follow him to a corner of the hallway. I can discern Augustin''s bewildered face, but it cannot disturb me.

    Under the dim lights and the smell of lavender running throughout the hallway, Augustin and I stand silently for a while. Just as I am about to speak to end the conversation, Augustin steps forward before me. He stares at me with a somewhat guilty look and asks softly, "I notice that you have changed your attitude towards me, but I do not know what I have done wrong."

    "Mr. Morten..."

    "Augustin, please call me Augustin," he pleads.

    "Well... Augustin, please be honest with me, was the result of the competition entirely fair?" I decide to flip the table.

    Augustin is taken aback for a moment, his face looks confused as if he is caught between two thoughts: that he has understood my intention, as well as he cannot believe that it is the thing that makes me uncomfortable. I can see the muscles in his arms tensing and the stiff lines on his face. Augustin turns his head to one side and asks, "Don''t you think John deserves to win?"

    "Of course, I want to achieve that too..."

    "Then why aren''t you happy?" Augustin suddenly becomes blunt with me, which makes me lose all affection for him.

    "Because if it''s cheating, I won''t see it as something to be proud of."

    For the first time, I express my attitude towards a man, especially one with a social status, and also the first time I feel so brave. Although Augustin never admits to having any influence on the result or any defence, I believe he is involved. And even if Augustin has nothing to do with it, the way he spoke to me just now has shown me a different side of him.

    We maintain silence with each other for a moment. Augustin''s face looks around restlessly as if to hide his anger. The sound of his sniffle reinforces my belief in that. At this moment, the band is ready for the dance, and everyone enters the centre of the room to prepare to start. I can hear the first notes of the violin and Augustin''s slow heartbeat.

    "So it seems... I''ve missed a dance with you, haven''t I?"

    But I do not answer. I curtsey and leave in Augustin''s emptiness. I am not sure if I behaved properly or not, but I just want to dance right now. I do not want Enzo to have to wait. I want to hold his hands. I want to smell the scent of his hair. And even more, I crave to taste the sweetness on his lips tonight.

    The couples have lined up, and I stand on the side waiting to be invited in. I hold my breath as I see Enzo in a white suit with the brooch I gave him on his twenty-second birthday. I chose the image of a swan, as it is the animal I love and worship. The swan is the symbol of eternal love, that if the female dies, the male will stay there and always remember the shadow of his old love. I worship such a love. My heart wants to grow legs and run to him right now, as Enzo walks towards me so slowly and hesitantly. When Enzo is only about five steps away from me, a voice speaks behind me:

    "Could I have this honour?"

    I turn around to look. This face... It is both familiar and strange. Familiar because of those eyes, that nose, those lips, and that voice, but on this face, it seems to lack a characteristic. While I am still dazed, the man looks at me with a smile and says eagerly:

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    "Don''t you recognize me?"

    "...Andermis?" I narrow my eyes in an extreme display of surprise.

    Andermis smiles. It is indeed him! But oh my! Did he disappear all day just to tidy up his face? Oh, I will be tormented if he put in so much effort just because of a silly woman''s words like me.

    He reaches his hand out in front of me. A big hand that could easily catch my own. I hesitate to look at him. I could easily hold his hand, and it would be easier for me. But how could I when Enzo is the one I wish to entrust my first dance to? No! I will refuse him and continue with my plan. Andermis will have his chance if I get exhausted dancing with Enzo. That is what I would do. I would dance with Enzo, dance with my love!

    "I''m sorry...", I unwillingly speak to Andermis.

    "Thena, may I have the pleasure of dancing with you?"

    Enzo''s voice makes it impossible for me to continue my unfinished sentence. I turn around and witness the moment Enzo invites my little sister to dance with him. At first, I feel a little shocked and jealous, to the point where my face turns red like a drunken person. But when I see his smile and confident expression, I know it is an unconditional love. He made everything seem easier for me. Love does not really have to be a definite answer to the question "Do you love me?", or a momentary jealousy. Love is really a selfless sacrifice, a silent agreement for each other. For our love, everything is enough.

    I turn to look at Andermis with his hand still in front of me. I bow my head and then raise it, responding to him with a mysterious smile. I place my hand on his, and the other holds the hem of my dress as I kneel down. I say, "I am so sorry... for making you cut that valuable moustache."

    Music rises, a slow, romantic waltz. Couples hold hands and step to the beat on the dance floor. They glide, they spin, they exchange a gaze of someone filled with desire for happiness. Hands clasped together, their movements are performed with finesse and experience to avoid clumsiness. Andermis'' large and warm hand gently rests on my waist, and my hand is on his shoulder. Andermis is not a skilled dancer, but not bad either. He holds me gently like holding a feather bundle. I appreciate that, but my heart thinks differently. I turn to look at Enzo and Thena, and despite knowing his motives, I was born with the identity of a woman, and I cannot deny my own qualities. I am jealous of my own sister. Dear God, please forgive the heart of this sinner!

    Luckily, Enzo occasionally glances around, looking for me, as I do for him in the chaotic crowd. We love each other like a stolen love affair. I love him like a woman who is tired of an alcoholic and gambling husband finds a man who can no longer endure the pain of a wife who is never satisfied. This dance party is no different from the true face of society: a glamorous exterior, but a cage hidden under the theatre''s curtain. The woman twirls her skirt, the man looks down. The woman spins around, and the man directs her. The music echoes beautifully. Whispers of admiration and regret murmur in the darkness.

    "Does she seem to have many worries?" Andermis asks gently.

    "Why did you cut off your beard?" I ask curiously. If it was because of me, I truly do not know how to act appropriately.

    "I want to say that it was because of you. But to spare you any discomfort, I will say that it was because I felt it was no longer suitable."

    Completely different from his older brother, Andermis exudes the noble demeanour of a mature man. He is gentle as the morning sun, and unbelievably refined. And if Andermis'' intentions were the same as his brother''s, I would truly regret having to reject this man. To me, Andermis deserves to be matched with a woman far better than myself.

    "You''re quite peculiar, Andermis," I chuckle softly.

    "Am I, or are you?" Andermis looks at me with a knowing expression. And that makes me gasp in surprise.

    The music accelerates, and I am forced to turn around while still pondering Andermis'' words. It seems the orchestra is teasing me, as the climax passages are played continuously and I have to keep moving. And when everything returns to normal, Andermis has had time to lightly kiss my forehead. I stand there stunned for a moment and unable to continue dancing. Our eyes meet, but the words are too exhausted and bitter to be spoken. Right now, I am no longer concerned about anything else but worrying that Enzo has seen it. We stop right in the middle of the dance floor, despite other couples continuing to sway to the music. Only when the orchestra quickly stops, I come back to my senses and question Andermis. But, once again, Andermis steps ahead of me.

    Andermis lightly smiles as if he does not remember what he''s done to me. Truthfully, I am both angry and not angry. Andermis takes my hand, still courteous like a gentleman. He gently says,

    "Consider it the least I can ask for when your mind is not with me in this dance..."

    My eyes widen, full of surprise and shock. I am like a worm, exposing my entire body and mind before his eyes. No one has ever seen through me like this, and it makes me both admire and fear. What will I have left if I have no more secrets? What will I have left if I have no more worries?

    "I will come and invite Lady Thena to dance the second part, if you don''t mind."

    I mind. I think I will mind because he cannot expose me and then act like nothing happened. But I will not say it because I feel too ashamed. Andermis gently releases my hand, bows his head, then goes to invite Thena for a dance. However, Enzo returns to me, and it just comforts me totally. Couples also exchange partners, preparing for the second dance.

    His hand holds mine. My hand rests on his shoulder. Four eyes gaze at each other deeply like a ripe vineyard. The familiar scent of him fills my nostrils. The music starts, and both our feet move automatically in rhythm. In the dim light, or perhaps because I am stunned, I can smell lavender somewhere. I can see love blooming in the room. And I have seen Enzo...

    My Shining armour knight!

 Chapter 3 - Promises (1)

    I lie on the lush green grass, still damp with morning dew, my head resting on his thigh. I gaze up at the blue sky, with wispy clouds drifting lazily, as if not in a hurry to find a new direction but observing us instead. I count each cloud, while Enzo concentrates on sketching something. I sit up, taking off my fur hat and observe him. From this angle, Enzo looks truly beautiful and sometimes even surreal. I cannot resist the urge to touch his face with my hand. Enzo looks at me for a moment, then tilts his head to rub against my hand like Lady Satine - a beautiful name that Diana gave to our cat whenever she felt happy and spoiled.

    A love story built in an old-fashioned style, where a young lady falls for a man without status. I may have many premonitions about a traditional ending, but my heart still loves and beats strongly for him. My family values him greatly, in fact, Enzo has lived almost his entire life with our family, and even the intimacy boundary has blurred. However, sometimes I still wish he had a higher noble position, or at least equal to mine. If that were the case, everything would be much easier. And we would not need secret rendezvous or hastily written letters hidden in books.

    I glance at the sketchpad on his lap. I know Enzo is drawing a picture of us and the scenery, but I still want to ask because I want to hear his answer.

    "What are you drawing?" I ask.

    "You and me," Enzo smiles softly. I can say that his smile is the most beautiful and radiant. "I want our moments together to never fade away."

    Oh Enzo! My heart is constricted with happiness upon hearing those words. It sounds like a tragic story full of romance, and the two of us are the main characters in that story. I furrow my brow as if to prevent tears of emotion. I pick up the sketchbook, flipping through each page to reminisce about our past encounters. The drawings, although not from a professional artist, are perfect in my eyes. Even a scene from the ball was depicted in great detail. I cannot think of any reason why he would remember those things. And there it is, a painting of me sitting around the piano on my parents'' wedding anniversary. Another painting shows only me, leaning my head against a fountain, my heart aching after finishing The Hunchback of Notre Dame. That was the first time I cried for a character on paper. Somehow, I connected my soul to what happened in the story. There are many, many more paintings of me, and only me. I feel like a vain singer dazzled by the stage lights and the continuous applause from well-dressed men in black suits, hair slicked back, and the faint smell of cigarette smoke on their noses. While he is just a handyman adjusting the curtains and lights for me. But no matter where we stand, I still love him passionately, just like his love for each painting of me he carefully created. My hand stops at the first painting, my heart seems to skip a beat. It''s a painting of me standing by the balcony, gazing into the distance. I was only twelve years old at the time. At that age, I never thought I would grow up to be a young lady like now. I was ugly and terribly skinny. My face was spotted with freckles, my body was emaciated, and my skin was as pale as a dried corpse. I was so ugly that I did not dare to appear in front of people. I thought the whole world would be afraid of me, even myself, but I was wrong. When I became the worst, there was still a boy who secretly loved and missed me from the very first glance.

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    I lay aside his drawing pad and turn to embrace him. It is a fervent, sincere kiss, unburdened by regret. God, family, and Enzo are things I will never regret in any decision I make. I love him ardently, like the plants love the spring, like the birds love the wide sky. I love him, love him, and love him.

    Two of us are intertwined. Softly in the midst of heavy breathing, I make a bold decision that I never dared to think of before.

    "Marry me."

    Oh Lord, forgive me! I made a mistake, and that made me a hypocrite. I scolded Thena for not behaving like a proper lady. But how can a proper lady dare to say such things? Oh, I have sinned, but please forgive me! For the one I love, I am willing to go against my beliefs!

    "Are you sure?" Enzo cannot believe what I am saying. His face is full of joy, but deep inside I can taste the scent of fear.

    "I will tell my parents next spring, when I turn twenty," I exclaim with delight.

    "You won''t regret it, will you? I love you, please don''t misunderstand me, but don''t give me hope if it won''t happen!" Enzo is still very cautious.

    I shed all my righteous appearance and completely immerse myself in the sweet nectar of love. I jump on him, placing my hands on his face, and say:

    "I will never regret it! Don''t you want to marry me?"

    "That would be the best thing I could ever have. But I just want..."

    "I will marry you. And if anything happens that separates us, you and I will flee far away, to a place where there''s just the two of us."

    I said that, and I was absolutely confident. I do not know if I am stepping into a muddy puddle. But I do not care, I will not submit to death without being loved in the true sense. I will curse Death if he dares to take that away from me. I push Enzo down onto the grass, then lean over and kiss him. Oh! This love has become too deep and gradually turned into a poison that corrodes my faith. Oh Lord! If You can see these things, please forgive me! I have sinned already!

 Chapter 3 - Promises (2)

    I sit by the window, trying to find meaningful words to write some Christmas cards to those I care about. There is Mrs. Morris, the lady from the neighbouring estate, a widowed mother figure to me. I also wrote a card for Mr. Harrington, as he agreed to review Thena''s work. Yes, I often complain about what she writes, but as an elder sister, I always support her endeavours. In fact, a part of me recognises the righteousness in Thena''s thinking, but I do not have the courage nor the strength to nurture it. I will help her as long as I can, for that is what family does for each other.

    Diana knocks and enters the room with a bunch of envelopes, one of which I know contains at least one letter sent from London. Diana places the letters on the table and shrugs, "Both of them..."

    "What about them?" I exclaim in surprise but also without much novelty. Diana leaves me alone with the red envelopes, and I smile wryly but also with interest at AndermisˇŻ letter. I have not forgiven him for that kiss, but I do not seem to be angry either. This is the first letter Augustin has written to me since then. I am sure his letter will be nothing but an apology, with a few sweet words, so I am not bothered right now. It is only Andermis'' letter that makes me restless. No one knows what that man is thinking.

    I smile and open the letter, being careful not to tear the envelope. Andermis'' handwriting is beautiful. He wrote a line behind the envelope that makes me ponder, "I hope you can look straight when reading this letter." It is both a reproach and a humorous reminder.

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    "To the girl at the dance in the night,

    I feel much regret for losing something on your forehead that day. But I am not writing this letter to retrieve it, I just want to apologise if it made you unhappy.

    You may see me as a rogue and not respect you. But I hope you understand, that is the least I can ask of you then. I know your heart will never belong to me, and I have to play the role of a villain to taste the sweetness of honey on my tongue. I will write a thousand letters to ask for your forgiveness if necessary, but I will not regret kissing you.

    If you can, please write me a letter. Even if you scold or curse me, as long as those are the words you write, I will accept.

    From the man you did not pay attention to."

    The language is very powerful, very proud, but I cannot find anything to be angry about. I stand up, hold the letter and walk to the window to read it again. Why do I always feel that Andermis carries a very special demeanour of Mr. Darcy, and I am a pitiful Elizabeth? I look at the letter, then laugh, then read on. I know this is not good, but sometimes it is wonderful to be loved by someone. I fold the letter and look at distant places. What should I write to Andermis then?

    In the far distance, on the green fields, I see my father walking alongside Mr. Morris, our family lawyer. From this distance, I cannot discern any nuances of their faces or expressions. I cannot fathom why, at that moment, I do not feel anything strange or suspicious. I only see the green fields, and somewhere there are a few white lily flowers blooming.

 Chapter 4 - O Holy Night (1)

    Once again, Christmas has come knocking at our door, and we are all busy preparing for the festive season. Despite the fact that we are all getting on in years, our passion for decorating the Christmas tree has never waned. Diana and I follow the traditional method of hanging baubles and bells on the branches, with a few strands of tinsel wound around them. Thena arranges paper deer and swans, the likes of which she learned from the latest magazines. David, my younger brother, instead of hanging stockings for "Father Christmas" to fill with gifts, took his old hats, gloves, and even tiny shoes and hung them up. He called it creative, but his creativity snapped a few branches when Christmas Eve had not even arrived yet.

    This year''s Christmas is like any other year, the atmosphere is bustling and warm, but I feel something strange. In a moment of idleness, I walk along the corridors of my castle, and an eerie silence descends. Not entirely empty, but it seems that half of my servants have disappeared. The long-standing ones are still there, but I cannot see many unfamiliar faces. I asked the old steward, Enzo''s father, and he said that they went somewhere else to work. I am surprised because the wages for my servants are not cheap, why would they go somewhere else that pays more? I am eager to know who they are, why they are so extravagant, while this year is not as successful as last year for houses like us. I feel that my family has been taken for granted, and we truly do not deserve such ingratitude.

    When the afternoon gradually fades and the courtyard outside is covered with scraps of snow, my siblings and I rush out like bees out of a hive. We only wait for the snow season to throw snowballs at each other. It is rare for a family whose grown-up children are old enough to start their own small family to still have such happy moments for each other. This family is my fortress. This family is my source of life. Looking at the smile on Diana''s lips, watching Thena run faster than the wind to avoid the snowballs, and watching David have to swallow two "bullets" from his two older sisters in the face and fall over, I stand aside and pray that the gods will keep these moments forever.

    Enzo is also passing by now, with a box of decoration tools in his hand. Suddenly, an insane and mischievous idea jumps into my head. I take a snowball and throw it towards him while he is not paying attention. Oh! I do not know which holy spirit has blessed me, but the snowball hits him right in the face. Enzo falls down in surprise, the box he is holding drops and everything inside scatters all over the place. I scream in shock, but also laugh with delight. My younger siblings cheer along. Each of them takes a snowball and continuously throws them at Enzo, despite his raised hand pleading for a ceasefire. But who wants the fun to end early? I also hope to pull him along, considering it as one of my efforts to introduce him to everyone in the house.

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    Amidst the excitement of us all, Enzo finally resists. He laughs sarcastically and takes off his woollen hat. He stands up, holding a large snowball in his hand. He glances at each of us but ends up staring intently at me. I only catch a glimpse of his smirk before my eyes shut reflexively, and I fall backwards. Oh my! The snowball hits me square in the face, leaving me feeling like a tightrope walker falling freely. Enzo quickly defeats the rebellious groups of Thena, David, and Diana. He takes on all four of us alone. Enzo, a large and stocky general, is surprisingly agile. The four of us sisters unite and attack him together. Laughter echoes throughout, warming even the remotest of places.

    I stop for a moment to catch my breath. As the last rays of sun are about to disappear, I look into the house. In my fatherˇŻs study, I see my parents discussing something. My mind tries to imagine what it could be, but a snowball hits my face and pulls me into the fun. Well, tonight is Christmas Eve, so let''s forget all worries and sadness. The last snowballs return to the white snow as the sun sets completely, and the night birds begin to rustle.

    <hr>

    I am seated beside a harp, my fingers gliding along the strings as Diana sings beside me. Tonight is a peaceful night, perfect for a rendition of "O Holy Night". My family is gathered on the sofa, swaying to the rhythm of Diana''s voice. Outside, snow falls gently, as if drawn to the music. My fingers know the way and I need not look for the next note. Instead, I use the time to gaze upon my family. As I grow older, I realise the time I have left with them is limited. My father - the epitome of a gentleman, my mother - strict but understanding, Thena - my mischievous and creative sister, David - confident and cheerful in his own way, and my youngest sister Diana - sweet and thoughtful. One day, I will venture far from home, but I will carry these memories with me. And here comes Enzo, whom I will depart with.

    We exchange Christmas cards, taking turns to read aloud our sentiments for the occasion. I am the last to go, and I can see my father shedding tears as I fold the card back. Though we do not understand what has happened, like a chain reaction, we all shed tears. We all embrace my father. Perhaps it has been too long since we have had a hug. I kiss my father on the cheek, hoping he will tell us what is going on. But he only wipes the tears from his face and assures us that everything is alright. He claps his hands and signals us to continue with the singing. Though I still ponder my father''s peculiar behaviour, I set it aside and return to my harp. This time, I will perform a solo of "O Holy Night". I rarely sing, but when I do, everyone is enraptured.

 Chapter 4 - O Holy Night (2)

    On that night, when everyone has fallen into a deep slumber, I arrange to meet Enzo alone in my chamber. The snow has ceased to fall, but it has left a thick layer on the ground. We exchange a customary kiss. The night sky is abundant with stars, and the moon shines so brightly as if it radiates light on its own. I lean into his embrace, inhaling the gentle fragrance on his clothes. The Christmas night is utterly peaceful and sacred. Tonight, I want to pledge my love to the man I adore. I want the aging moon to testify to this love. I want to bask in the holiness of this divine night.

    We turn to face each other, our warm and hurried breaths mingle and blend, forming a symphony. I hold his hand tightly, as if to draw some strength from him. My mind suddenly becomes hazy and euphoric. I can smell his body odour: a pungent aroma of masculinity and vigour. I try to control my quivering voice, but to no avail. I stutter, looking into his eyes:

    "I want to...make a vow. I want to pledge myself to you."

    "Me too..."

    I can feel my heart leaping out of my chest. I have never gone this far. I also never thought I would give myself to someone before marriage. But our love has ripened, and I do not wish to delay any longer. I will tell my family next spring, when I turn twenty. I want my twenty to be a special year for me. That is when I will marry the one I love, build a small family with him, and grow old with him.

    "Enzo...", I whisper his name.

    "Heard you," Enzo answers, his face meeting mine. Both our breaths mix with the scent of lavender from the candle in the room.

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    "You may remove my clothes."

    His hands softly fall on my coat. In the dark night, with no light, there are only movements, collisions, but our hearts beat together and he has no difficulty removing my clothes. I breathe faster, with a chill running down my spine, making me fall onto his chest. Enzo gently holds me tight. The warmth in his body makes me feel safe. After a moment, he lets me go. Although I cannot see clearly, I believe his eyes are shining like the ocean. Softly, he tells me:

    "You may remove mine, too."

    I beam with happiness. Just like him, I rely on collisions and mental connections to undress him. One by one, I unbutton his shirt, not forgetting to touch the skin on his chest. I rise on tiptoes and plant a deep, passionate kiss on his lips. Under the bright moon outside, I utter a pledge:

    "Enzo... You have my permission... to worship me tonight."

    Enzo smiles. He reaches up to brush the strands of hair away from my face. His gentle and tender gestures cause my heart to melt and turn into foam. Softly, he says:

    "Fiona... You have my permission... to own me tonight"

    Above the sky, it is silent and infinite. Who knows if the galaxy has a limited lifespan for fleeting humans? Do the birds ever tire from flying in the night? Will that sea out there find its own shore? Do the mountains know that the old clouds have drifted far away? The old chimney no longer has fire at night. The daisy no longer blooms in a hurry. Where will our vows go, in the frigidity of fate?

    From this day on, I have officially become his woman.

 Chapter 5 - Cardigan (1)

    In the spring of 1911, at Drevolre Manor.

    Though Enzo and I see each other often, our relationship remains in the shadows. I have not yet mustered the courage to speak of it to anyone, and at present, it does not seem quite appropriate. I sense a change brewing within my family, but I cannot put my finger on what it is. All shall proceed according to plan, and I shall reveal my intention to marry when I turn twenty to the entire household. Until then, our secret shall remain just between us.

    I have found a new pastime: knitting. My mother taught me the craft, which surprised me greatly. I never imagined that my mother, a woman of high standing, would enjoy such a hobby. But being a woman, it is understandable that we have ample free time, and knitting is an efficient way to pass it.

    I sit at the balcony, engrossed in my knitting, occasionally glancing down at Diana painting below. As a tea addict, I always have a cup at hand. I enjoy the spring season, though it is not mine to claim. My parents call me their winter, and the spring belongs to Thena. David is the warm summer, while Diana is the bountiful autumn. I pause mid-stitch, lifting my teacup to my lips. I inhale a long breath before sipping, then roll my tongue. Why am I the winter?

    Suddenly, Thena bursts into my room, her face contorted with panic, paying no heed to my disfigured expression. She hastily brings a chair to sit beside me, ignoring my queries. Once she calms down and takes her seat, she rapidly asks me:

    "Are you and Enzo in love?"

    My pupils dilate, and in that moment I do not know how to respond. I am like a soldier shot in the heart, and immediately sacrificed on the battlefield. How could she know? I do not speak, Enzo speaks even less, so who spread the news? Could it be that our clandestine meetings were seen by someone else? I am completely vulnerable and afraid in front of my younger sister. I am completely silent to the point that I cannot even form a grammatically correct sentence. I can only resist with a denial:

    "We didn''t... Who told you that?"

    "You''re lying to me!" Thena screams. Her face becomes excited when she catches my tail. "I know everything!"

    I immediately rush forward and cover her mouth. At this point, I do not care who is right or wrong, or whether she knows everything correctly or not. I only care that if this matter is exposed and falls into the wrong hands, my reputation and that of my family will plummet. My face is serious as I look at her. I quickly pull her inside and ask sternly:

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    "What do you know?"

    "Well then tell me what these things are?" Thena puts a pile of letters that he wrote to me, as well as the letters that I did not send, on my desk. Obviously, I kept them in an extremely careful place. I clipped them to romantic books that, according to Thena''s judgment, were sentimental and unreasonable. I thought it was a safe place to keep them, when the books became completely harmless and not worth thinking about. People will turn to drawers, desks, or chests when referring to precious items. For many years, ˇ°Pride and Prejudiceˇ± has become a "forbidden object" in my family, when no one in my family, except for me, of course, loved it. I am sure that Thena has read everything we wrote to each other, and now I just want to dig a hole and bury myself.

    I hastily take the letters and turn around. I dare not face my younger sister. At this moment, the sense of guilt in me envelops my whole body and mind. I am a hypocrite, always preaching about ceremonies and virtues, but I myself let desire take over me. How can I look at them again? How can I face this truth?

    But when I feel desperate, Thena steps forward and embraces me. The little girl is not bitter or contemptuous of an older sister like me, on the contrary, I can feel the warmth in her hug. Thena leans her head on my neck and says in the gentlest tone possible:

    "Why did you hide from us?"

    "I don''t know eitherˇ­", I shake my head. I really do not know why I did that. Even now, I still cannot find the answer for myself.

    Thena pulls me back to face each other. She holds my hand tightly as if to create a support for me. Thena looks at me with sincere eyes and says:

    "No matter who you are with, I will support you, as long as you really love each other."

    "Really?", I smile. That ¨Ş the warmest thing I have heard from Thena.

    "I''m glad it''s Enzo. I was afraid you would marry those gentlemen from outside London."

    "I won''t," I pat her head to reassure her. "I will tell you everything about us. But Thena, I want to ask you one thingˇ­"

    "Will you continue to hide from the whole family?" the little girl looks at me in confusion.

    "For now, Thena. But don''t you worry, I will soon tell everyone about this decision. You don''t know how much I want to be with him."

    I embrace her, my hands stroking her soft back. Thena has grown taller and is about to surpass me. She promised to keep everything a secret, which makes me feel at ease. We sit together for a whole afternoon, and I tell her everything that happened between us. Of course, I will omit some details that I feel are inappropriate or should not be disclosed. Now I understand the impermanence of life, that anything can change. Who would have thought that Thena would lay her hands on that book one day? And who would have thought that I would be recounting my intimate moments with Enzo to her now? I could not imagine it, yet it happened. My tea outside has gone cold, and my unfinished cardigan is still hanging loosely.

 Chapter 5 - Cardigan (2)

    "It is the third time this week that Mr. Morris has come to our home, hasn''t it?ˇ±

    I stand on the balcony, looking down at the scene of my father and Mr. Morris and conversing with Thena, while being equally surprised. Truly, the regular presence of the lawyer at Drevolre Manor has caused us to start worrying. We walk through the deserted corridor, our minds unable to think clearly. The servants of the house have significantly dwindled, only the elderly and those who have been attached since my grandfather''s time remain. Even my maidservant is now the only one left. Surely, something has happened in this family. And my parents are hiding it from us.

    I wait for Mr. Morris to leave, and when only my father is in the study, I decide to ask him directly. Seeing me, my father is extremely surprised, and perhaps he also notices his daughter''s serious expression, he immediately puts on a guarded face. I walk up to him and smile gently. I do not want him to feel tense. My elderly father has had to endure many bitter things in his life. But I also do not want to waste both our time by prolonging this long-drawn-out story. I only blame myself for not being more vigilant earlier.

    "Father, I see that Mr. Morris has been constantly discussing matters with you and mother recently. Can I ask about what it is?"

    "Nothing significant, my dear Fiona," he reassures me with a smile. Sometimes, I truly hate his smile. Because when he does so, I completely trust him without a second thought.

    "Is it really nothing, or is it related to our estate?"

    "Nothing at all, my daughter," my father interrupts, with a very straight-forward attitude. "Just some legal matters, and we need to discuss them carefully with Mr. Morris."

    "Does it have anything to do with the departure of our servants?" I inquire persistently.

    "Indeed, that is the case," my father replies solemnly.

    For a moment, both he and I remain silent, exchanging nothing more than an intense, searching gaze. Though he has given me a reasonably persuasive justification, I cannot help but believe that there is something shrouded in mystery, concealed beyond my grasp. I sigh heavily, bid him farewell, and depart the room. If something truly transpires, I can only hope that my father will inform us before it is too late. Strangely enough, while I am preoccupied with the welfare of my family, the two gentlemen from the Morten household come to mind, swift and sudden. Could this be a portent of some kind?

    <hr>

    I continue my knitting to pass the time, and once again my younger siblings come to me. But this time it is not just Thena, and certainly not a letter of mine being discovered. This time, all three of my siblings come to my room. Thena and Diana push David forward, while all three of their faces are drawn and uneasy. I am surprised to see David back in the middle of term. I set the knitting aside, and instinctively sense something amiss. I scan each of them with narrowed eyes and ask, "What''s the matter?"

    Thena shrugs David''s shoulder and says, "He has something to say."

    "David?" I look at him with a serious expression. "What is it?"

    My younger brother initially appears hesitant, but then as if unable to hide it any longer, he says, "Someone in my school said... we no longer have any money."

    I am silent for a moment, as if all the blood has drained from me. The knitted hat I was working on suddenly falls to the ground, and I don''t bother to pick it up. So, everything has its own reason. Mr. Morris did not visit my home every other day for no reason. He would not come just because an order was changed. Mr. Morris came to announce that we have gone bankrupt, and yet here we are, dressed in luxurious clothes and eating expensive food. Once again, the Lamstrong household is in chaos, and I no longer care whether the rumors that my family is cursed are unfounded.

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    <hr>

    In the room, the atmosphere becomes extremely solemn. The four of us sit on the sofa without making a sound. The clock ticks loudly on the wall. Madame Satine The Cat walks back and forth, creating the clinking sound of her bracelet. We are facing my parents. My father sits on the chair, with a terrifyingly serious expression, while my mother stands on the side, bowing her head. She places her hand on his shoulder as a gesture of solidarity. Satine jumps onto my father''s lap and whines as if seeking attention. He looks at the pitiful cat and strokes its belly. After a while, he clears his throat and breaks this cold and stale atmosphere.

    "I donˇŻt know what to say to you anymore..."

    "We no longer have money, do we?" Diana asks softly, with eyes that seem to want to cry.

    My father does not answer, but that expression is enough for us to understand. My sisters look at each other with a relieved expression, but also feel helpless. Diana, the ordinary daughter who hardly ever voices her opinion, and does not interfere with anything, becomes the strongest and most decisive in this situation. Diana says tearfully:

    "I will sell my paintings. I will also teach drawing. There is no one here good enough to teach the ladies."

    My parents and we are stunned at the little girl, and so are we. Following Diana, David also gradually becomes a true man, a pillar for this family. My little brother makes a decision:

    "I will quit boarding school. After all, I am better than the kids there. Kevin told me that Mrs. Daphne is looking for someone to manage her garden by the river. I will go there."

    "And me..." Thena stands up. I can see the little girl struggling internally very strongly. Her fingers clasp tightly together, just a little more force and blood will rush out. "I will stop writing what I always believe in... I will write what people want. Then... my work will be accepted by everyone."

    A hardy girl like Thena doesn''t often utter such words. In this moment, I feel much smaller than my younger siblings. Only I am without anything special to aid my family. Perhaps becoming someone''s wife is the only thing I can do. I know I have had such thoughts before, and I have sworn along with Enzo. But how can I be at ease when everything is falling apart like this? I try to hold back tears, my fingers becoming unsteady and constantly biting into each other. I can see the blood seeping out. Oh Lord! Please show me the way back. Please help me find a way to save my family.

    I stand up, gaze at my family as if to give more strength to what I am about to say. I take a deep breath and speak:

    "If it has to come to that, I will do everything I can to salvage the situation. I can teach music or even have to marry someone..."

    Immediately, I receive objections from both my parents and everyone in the house. My mother walks over and hugs me tightly. I can feel her tears soaking through my clothes. She says in a choked voice:

    "You won''t have to marry anyone!"

    She releases me, then kisses my forehead. Afterwards, she walks over to look at her other three children. She firmly and strongly says:

    "Thena, you won''t have to change for anyone. David, you won''t be allowed to stop your studies. And Diana, you can continue to paint, for your own good."

    Only now does my father stand up and come close to the family. He embraces all of his children. After a moment, he reluctantly lets us go. He smiles to reassure us. The imprint of anxiety is etched onto that man''s face. Gently, he says:

    "We''ve run out of money, but that''s the past. I''ve dealt with Mr. Morris and within a few months, we''ll be back to where we were."

    "How?" I feel somewhat relieved, but partly within me still disbelieving.

    "I have found someone to work with me in managing the estate. I didn''t tell you all because I didn''t want to upset our family. We have gone through many things, and this too shall pass quickly."

    He smiles reassuringly at us, and like always, we fall for it. Each of us feels a bit lighter. Outside, the trees are budding and the grass stretches out like a painting. The stallions neigh and the mares swish their tails. A flock of swallows flit and dip across the sky. Suddenly, I feel like a stranger in my own home. I look at my father''s smile, my mother''s smile, and my siblings'' smiles. I feel like I am in a dramatic play, unsure of what''s real and what''s not. I do not know if I can trust their words anymore. And now I have to question myself about what I just said. Whether those things really happened and if I will do what I promised.

    Will I marry any man just to keep the estate, leaving Enzo with a broken heart all alone?

    I do not know anymoreˇ­ I just do not knowˇ­

 Chapter 6 - A Hundred Pebblestones (1)

    On the 14th of February, 1911, at the Drevolre Manor.

    Today is my birthday.

    Enzo and I have come to our familiar spot, an unnamed hill with lush green grasses and vibrant wildflowers. On the edge of the hill, atop a boulder, we stack pebbles, each stone representing each encounter. This morning, I placed the eighty-eighth stone. Eighty-eight secret rendezvous, and today, we no longer need to keep quiet. I wish we could add two more stones to make it a round number. But after today, everything is set in stone.

    "You know... We can still wait until it reaches a hundred," Enzo says as I lie on his shoulder, with his hand gently stroking through my hair. I quickly sit up at his words. We both carry a heavy heart, looking at each other with tearful eyes. But Enzo always wants to be a sturdy support for me. He knows our situation, with my family''s declining fortunes, making our love tremble like walking on the tightrope. However, his face always shows positivity, a smile full of reassurance, and his arms always ready to embrace me. Oh Lord, how can I bear a thought of betraying such a perfect man and entering the church with someone else?

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    Enzo smiles to calm me down, his gentle hand caressing my hair to one side. He remains lying on the lush grass, gazing at me for a while. His soft lips, along with his warm and steady voice, have saved me from falling into the abyss many times. Calmly, he says, "I don''t want our relationship to become a burden on your family at this time. I can wait. But no matter what, please remember Fiona, I will never leave you."

    I say nothing. Tears precede my words. I sink into his embrace, weeping much and loudly. Enzo, as usual, holds me tight, trying to soothe the woman he loves most in the world. His embrace is very warm and makes me feel an incredibly precious sense of safety. In this very moment, I know I will never be able to leave Enzo''s arms. Oh God, please never take him away from my life. I am begging You!

 Chapter 6 - A Hundred Pebblestones (2)

    My last maid, Anna, is applying make-up on me before my birthday party. I look extremely elegant and fresh, yet as I gaze at myself in the mirror, I cannot smile. I do not even understand why I agreed to host the party. My fingers unconsciously caress the pearls around my neck while my mind wanders off to a place unknown. The sound of a car horn downstairs startles me, causing me to lose control and yank the pearl necklace backwards. The necklace breaks, and the pearls scatter all over the floor. I am so shocked that I am unable to do anything but watch the pearls bounce on the ground. Is this a premonition of my unfortunate life? My eyes fixate on the smallest pearl, which is the most resilient of them all. Unlike the others, it keeps bouncing as if it has an insatiable desire to exist. But life is not a dream, eventually it has to bow down to fate. A lifeless tear drops on my cheek. I am numb and unable to feel the pain or regret. But now, I am not allowed to cry. I quickly wipe away the tear with my hand. I cannot ruin this makeup. At this moment, beauty seems so distant to me.

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    I stand by the window, looking down to find the car that startled me earlier. Anna finds another necklace for me to wear, but I am no longer interested in judging whether it is suitable. A black car that looks extremely luxurious and modern is parked in my yard. Three men step out of the car, and I can clearly tell who they are. The Morten family. Somehow, the three men from a family at the top of high society have come to my house at such a sensitive moment. Even if I am blind or completely unconscious, I can guess what might happen.

    I slowly descend the staircase, with a wandering gaze. I am ready to face whatever will happen, whoever it may be. Step by step, I approach the men in their pitch-black tuxedos, with a pocket watch ticking away and half-smoked cigarettes in haste. What awaits me ahead, for they have not simply come here to celebrate my birthday?

 Chapter 6 - A Hundred Pebblestones (3)

    I accept Augustin''s invitation for a walk. He is the man whom I have decided to avoid since the last time we met. I have not given him any chance since then, but this time I break the rule. Perhaps, deep down, I also hope for some favour to end all the suffering that my family is enduring. Do not call me crazy when I am merely fulfilling the obligation of a daughter in a family. I only use what, in my opinion, is the most valuable thing on this body, the ideal of a desirable woman.

    "You didn''t reply to my letter," he says.

    "I feel very sorry," I reply hastily but also dare not be forceful. "Please think that it is because I am still too stubborn."

    "Can I consider this conversation as proof that you have forgiven me?" Augustin asks quietly.

    I really want to ask forgiveness for what, but I am not in a high enough position to be obstinate. Instead, I just smile lightly and nod. We continue to walk in the hazy sunlight without saying a word to each other. I can even hear the ticking sound of the pocket watch in his coat pocket.

    After a while, Augustin tightens his grip on my hand and stops me. As if he has rehearsed many times, Augustin looks directly into my reluctant eyes and says:

    "I know you do not love me, but I truly have a heartbeat on you, Fiona."

    "I am terribly sorry if I have planted wrong feelings in your heart," I shake my head and say. If I have misled him with the way I talk or behave, then I have truly committed a crime.

    "I want to marry you, Fiona. I have wanted to marry you since the first time we met."

    "Why do you want me, sir?" I awkwardly refuse. "I am no one. I am just a country girl. And now everything has become even more difficult for us."

    "Because I love you, Fiona. You give me a feeling that I have never felt with anyone else."

    "But I do not love you, Augustin," I exclaim in a high-pitched voice to emphasise my refusal. "I do not love you. You will not be happy marrying someone who never holds a place in her heart for you."

    Augustin is stunned for a moment, as if he did not anticipate that he would still not be able to have me at this point, and I am even more resolute than ever. But who knows, the more I refuse, the more the desire to possess the man is heightened.

    Augustin loses patience and says in anger:

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    "You should think of your family before letting your dignity cloud your judgement."

    "What do you mean?" I try to suppress my shock.

    Augustin steps closer to me without hesitation and tries to force me against the nearby oak tree. I can smell the expensive perfume on him, but why does it cause discomfort and disgust to this extent? Augustin growls and whispers in my ear:

    "Your father is selling this estate. Your family will have nothing left. Everything will be gone. We are one of your family''s last resorts, and marrying me is the biggest opportunity you can seize."

    I am dumbfounded and at a loss for words. At this moment, I am completely powerless before him. Augustin is like a wealthy landowner, and I am just a powerless and unresisting maid. I suppress my anger and tears inside. I do not know what crime I have committed to be involved with someone like Augustin. He does not love me, that is for sure. What he loves is just the flesh and bones that will grow old in a few years. What he loves is a wife who can make him proud in front of his friends. He does not love me, he will never be able to love me like Enzo did, or even with the respect and admiration that Andermis had for me.

    I tip-toe to give him a kiss on the lips. It''s not a kiss of love. It''s a snarl, a disgust, and a destruction. Augustin indulges in that kiss without realising that he has stepped into the trap of this female wolf. I bite his lip hard. Blood oozes out, soaking his white shirt and me. Augustin pushes me away, hastily grabbing a perfumed handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his mouth. He thought his mountain of gold could buy me, but he was wrong. I am not an item to be purchased, and I have no intention of becoming one.

    I quickly lift my dress and run away. Before I am out of sight, Augustin yells after me, proposing a deal:

    "Fiona, if you marry me, the title deed will be in your name. Think about it!"

    "Do you think I would marry you just to keep this thing?" I yell back in disgust.

    "I will wait for you, Fiona."

    "Then I hope you live long enough to wait for that day!"

    I do not deign to care about the pile of ceremonies and I turn my face straight and leave. He does not chase after me, and that is what he should do. I would punch him, scratch him, even bite him if I have to. I hurry to go inside. He was wrong to think that I could be bought with those words. That I would agree to sell myself for this "debt". But the moment I step on the third step of the castle''s staircase, I stop, turn around and look at every inch of the vast and lush green land, my heart suddenly skips a beat. Was it my lightness or did Augustine really see through my mind?

    A sparrow flies by, dropping a few drops of sunlight.

    Everyone is bustling around me. The sound of a piano echoes. Laughter. The sound of clinking glasses. Applause. The sound of a car horn driving away. Satine''s nails scratching. The faint noise of mice under the floor. Suddenly, I have a new superpower. I seem to hear every kind of sound around me. But is that a blessing or a curse?

    The cake is in front of me, and twenty candles are burning brightly in a challenging way. I soullessly blow them all out. Applause echoes again. The piano follows the congratulatory singing. There are only a few people in the house, but why does it become so crowded in a crazy way? If there is a high-speed train passing by, I will leave all my luggage behind and go there. I will go far away from this crazy crowd! I will go far, far away and never look back.

 Chapter 6 - A Hundred Pebblestones (4)

    "Father, you need not hide anymore!"

    I question him just before dinner when everyone is getting ready. At first, he stands as if not understanding anything. But just a few seconds later, the strong man who is the pillar of the six-person family collapses like a temple without any pillars. He cannot even contain his emotions. But I do not want to see him cry. I do not want him to appear weak in front of his children. I hurry to him and embrace him tightly. Then he can cry and do anything without losing his dignity in front of me. I want to share the burden with him. I do not want him to carry all these loads alone.

    "Let us help, dear father!"

    "I''m sorry, Fiona... everything has gone beyond my control..." he says, stroking my hair.

    "Augustin has made an offer..."

    "Please don''t be foolish, my daughter!" my father interrupts me. "I do not want your whole life to be ruined because of my mistake."

    "But... I don''t want to see our legacy fall into the hands of others."

    I truly think that. In the end, I still let myself fall into the dilemma of choosing between love and duty. I am too ashamed to let Augustin take advantage of my weakness, but I really do not know what else to do. Why does God bind me to these things? Why was I not born as a selfish girl who only thinks of herself? Why can I not choose both? Why am I forced to choose? My heart screams with sacrifices. The Holy One teaches us to sacrifice and let go, but He does not teach me how to bear the pain. I would rather die, rather enter the boiling pit, than be trapped in this hell. This body is nothing if my heart dies, and that will happen when I have to leave Enzo.

    "Fiona...", he releases me so that we both can look at each other with the sincerest fatherly affection. The man is over fifty, but his depth of emotion has not faded. He gently strokes my hair and calmly speaks. "This estate is not worthy of you selling your love. I know you love Enzo... Marry him, for your own happiness, and not for anyone else''s!"

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    Everyone knows what is best for me, but this foolish girl still cannot find the right path. I smile happily at my father. Both of us are overwhelmed with emotion. He takes a scented handkerchief from his pocket and wipes away my tears. I also take my handkerchief and wipe away his tears. When we have both calmed down, I dare to ask:

    "How do you know?"

    "What do you mean?"

    "About me and Enzo?"

    "Oh..." he nods. "Everyone can see the affection between the two of you. You''re not good at hiding things, Fiona."

    I chuckle. As he said, I am not good at hiding things, but it also makes me feel relieved. Now we do not have to hide anymore. Father kisses my forehead and tightly holds my small hands. He laughs lightly and says:

    "My daughter has grown up..."

    "I will always be your daughter!" I say confidently.

    "No... You will be busy taking care of your life with your husband, and your children. That is something every parent must face: one day they will watch their child leave their nest."

    My old father becomes even richer in emotions in situations like this. I plan to say a few words to comfort him, that I will not leave him soon, and that we will stay here together. This castle is already like home to Enzo, he will surely not mind staying. Or maybe we will have to live separately, and Enzo and I will find ways to be as close to everyone as possible. My heart is half for Enzo, and the other half is for this beloved family. I only have time to open my mouth, but he speaks before I can:

    "I will find a good day for the two of you to get engaged. The wedding can be held later, when everything is settled."

    I am overwhelmed with joy. I embrace him tightly, nuzzling my head as I used to do when I was a child. I chirp like a fledgling bird, thanking him incessantly for this blessing. It is the most meaningful thing I have ever received on all my previous birthdays. I no longer have any desires to ask for, for I have been given more than enough!

 Chapter 6 - A Hundred Pebblestones (5)

    I had to watch Anna leave, and my home no longer has any family members. Even the old butler had to bid farewell, not because he wanted to find another place to work, but because my family wanted him to rest after working so hard for many years. We officially have nothing left, except for hearts ready to beat strongly for each other. The estate has been sold to pay the wages of all the servants, and the castle had to be sold to pay off debts. We only have a small amount left and have moved to a wooden house by the riverbank. It is not even a house that we bought or rebuilt. It is the old house of the butler, and he gave it to us as a gift to show his gratitude. We just have to clean and decorate it to make it look more beautiful. Enzo has officially moved in with us, as the future son-in-law. We all agreed to hold the wedding when everything is back on track. A fairytale wedding is what we are aiming for, as my love story with him is no different from the stories people tell.

    Without Anna, I have to rely on the help of Thena and Diana to do my makeup for the engagement. Thena is lively but clumsy, and Diana, though skilled in drawing, is not good at makeup. However, they try their best to make me the most beautiful woman. I trust these responsibilities in their hands, and I trust my own beauty even more.

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    I wear my mother''s old dress and use my grandmother''s jewellery. We even sold all unnecessary jewellery, leaving only the family heirlooms. Each daughter in the family kept a set as her own asset. She also gave me her ring. I do not know how to describe my emotions today. I am a person who easily sheds tears, but on this happy day, I do notwant to shed any tears, even tears of happiness. Crying has been enough for me!

    <hr>

    On the bank of the river, in the twilight, we become engaged. My father hands Enzo his ring, and now we will continue with that ring as husband and wife. We exchange rings. The evening ends with a kiss between him and me. My life has many regrets, but they have led to the ending of this tale. One day, the church bells will ring with a veil over my head fluttering in the wind. That day will not be so far away.

    "Fiona, I promise to love you, cherish you, and support you on every path in this life."

    "Enzo, I promise to love you, respect you, and support you on every step of this journey."

 Chapter 7 - Roxanne (1)

    On June 21st, 1911, there stood a wooden house by the riverbank.

    As my father has forewarned, the initial period is fraught with difficulty, but we shall overcome. Every member of the household works tirelessly to improve our financial situation. Thena seizes every opportunity to write and earn a living from her pen. She has truly transformed since then. Now, she writes short stories about love and other topics she once detested. The heroines are no longer formidable women who disparage men, but love has become an essential thread in her stories. Thena''s works have gradually gained recognition, and the literary circles in London have started to take notice of her.

    Diana has become a drawing teacher for families in the surrounding area. Although the pay is meager, it provides the family with enough to get by. This job has also made her more open with people. David has dropped out of boarding school, and with Kevin''s help, he has landed a job managing the flower garden in Lady Daphne''s estate. As for me, in my spare time, I knit with my mother to sell in the village. For the most part, I learn how to be a wife and assist Enzo with the vegetable garden. At first, I was unaccustomed to manual labor, but circumstances forced us to adapt. Now, I realize that I love this "job." The best thing about it is being Enzo''s "soon-to-be wife."

    <hr>

    Tonight, after all the work is done, the fields have been watered and look lush, twenty knitted sweaters have been completed and are ready to be sold at the market tomorrow, the courtyard has been swept clean, and Diana''s paint jars have been put away, we gather together to listen to Thena''s story.

    Mother and Diana share one side of father''s body, while Enzo''s arms surround me. We all lament that David has to stay at Mrs. Daphne''s house. We are all silent and focused on Thena''s new story. According to Thena, this will be a very new and different story from what she has ever written. She has shifted to writing a novel, a story that, as she suggests, will be incredibly melancholy.

    "The painter receives news that Roxanne is getting married tomorrow, his heart tightens as if he were under the spell of a Digan witch''s heartache. His letter to her did not reach the hands of the beauty, and he must painfully end his love affair. Day by day, he draws Roxanne''s portrait to satisfy his longing, but the more he draws, the more his heart aches. The day she rides the wedding carriage is the day the painter''s true self dies on the wheel of the spinning horse and the flowers scattered all over the road. Without Roxanne, the painter''s soul is like a deserted garden. In agony, bleeding, and remorse, he drinks all the bottles of paint, the last gift Roxanne gave him. His eyes close, and he carries the old images of Roxanne with him to the realm of despair."

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    Thena tells the story with a slow, heavy voice, and I can tell we all have tears in our eyes. She puts the unfinished book down and sighs. Then she looks at us, and I''m sure we''re all teary-eyed. She gently says:

    "End of Act 1."

    I abhor this tale. I abhor it for its excessive brilliance and its overwhelming pathos. The more I weep for the poor artist, the more I sympathize with Roxanne. Each person has their own reason. Each person has an invisible sorrow. What happens within a person cannot be evaluated by a smile or a tear. I bow my head into Enzo''s chest and sob. Mother and Diana are also weeping, only my father appears stronger than ever. Perhaps, stories like this are ones he has encountered many times in his life. And maybe, his happy life has made these tragic stories less poignant. These things will never defeat my family because we always have each other.

    But can one really commit suicide by drinking paint? That is the first time I have heard of it. Perhaps they did not want their death to become bloody and haunting for those left behind. I do not know anymore, and I do not wish to see that scene either. I truly hope Thena can finish her book soon. I wish the ending of the book will be a happy one, that those who truly love each other will be together. Death has taken away too many beautiful love stories in real life, and I cannot bear to see it happen even within the pages of a book.

    The sky is adorned with weaving nets made of stars, and the moon rises bright and round. I bid goodnight to my fianc¨¦ with a deep kiss, and he returns it just as passionately. The moon tonight is so lovely that I feel compelled to say a prayer before I drift off to sleep. What should I pray for? Ah, yes, I hope that my family''s troubles will soon come to an end. I long for a sense of peace. I pray for Thena''s success with her novel. I hope that Enzo and I will soon be wed. And there are so many other prayers I hope will come true. But now I am too sleepy, and I must close my eyes at once. Let us leave everything for tomorrow. I have a presentiment that tomorrow will be a day full of hope and life. I am certain of it!

 Chapter 7 - Roxanne (2)

    At five o''clock in the morning, when the rooster crows its first crow, we are all awakened by the shrill screams of mother. We all hurriedly get up and follow the direction of the shout to our parents'' bedroom. I used to believe that today would be a beautiful day. I was already sure of it. And at that moment, I also believed that my heart had stopped beating.

    That morning, our family had to witness a scene that we could never, absolutely never, have imagined happening. My father, the pillar of the family, the father we respected so much, the man who taught us our first words, taught us how to ride horses and wield swords, the one who taught me to cherish my own happiness, died in his own armchair. He sat there, as if he were just sleeping, with a smile on his face and the family portrait in his arms. Jars of paint were scattered on the floor, and a reddish-brown liquid still lingered on his lips.

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    That summer, I lost my father. He passed away, taking with him all of the parts of me.

 Chapter 8 - The Black Widow (1)

    On June 22nd, 1911.

    Black coat, black dress, black veil. We, the young and a widow, attend the funeral of our father and my motherˇŻs husband. My eyes are dry, and no pain can afflict the already worn-out body. The mourning air envelops the river delta region. Only when people die, do others come to mourn and bid farewell.

    I alone stand, without a tear, gazing at the old man''s body buried in the cold earth. Only last night, he was still happy, contented with his family, but now he has chosen another path. Who would have thought that a person who always smiled could not feel comfort deep down? He could not overcome the invisible shame that he had created for himself. He could not see how truly happy we were with our ordinary lives. Happiness is so simple, but not everyone realises it. We see the green vegetable patches as beautiful gardens with fragrant flowers, while he only sees deep branches and earthy bushes. We cherish storytelling sessions, while he only remembers the speeches at traditional fairs and permanent committee meetings. We lost the grand manor and vast estates, but in exchange, we gained ultimate peace, while he was engulfed in a storm. He never felt happy. He always blamed himself for losing all the good things. Why could we not have realised it sooner? Why could we only see the forced smile without suspicion?

    We ought to understand that he loves this estate more than his own life. He thought he could overcome this shock, but in the end he is just an ordinary man. If I were to meet him again, I would certainly question him. Can a life of poverty with my family not compare to that former glory? Would he really give up everything, my mother, my siblings, and all the memories, just for the loss of an immobile estate? They say that money cannot buy happiness, but poverty cannot sustain it either. Pride may not actually kill my father, but harsh reality pushed him to the brink.

    I stand alone as if waiting for some kind of echo. The wind blows gently, the heart withered. The river flows slowly into the distance. The sound of footsteps on the grass made me turn back. Andermis in a black suit approached with a bouquet of chamomile. He stood beside me without saying anything at first. Andermis respectfully placed the bouquet on the soil mound, then stood with me to express condolences.

    "I share your grief with your family."

    "Thank you, Mr. Morten," I replied with an emotionless face. "You have travelled a long way. Please come inside and let me invite you for some tea."

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    "No need, I will be on my way," he declined with a shake of his head. "I came here to visit you and convey a message from my brother."

    "He never stops..." I muttered. "I thought I made myself clear to him."

    ˇ°If you know Augustin well, he will never stop until he gets what he wants,ˇ± says Andermis with a helpless expression. We pause for a moment to ponder the past. The melancholic autumn wind blows, and my hair flutters in the breeze. I can hear the sound of restlessness coming from his chest, but I do not know what to do, nor do I intend to. Andermis then hands me a letter from inside his jacket pocket. I look at it and recognize Augustin''s handwriting. Despite knowing what it contains, I accept it. I can guess what is inside, a proposal of marriage or worse, a contract for sale of a woman.

    "Before you read this letter, I wish to remind you of something..."

    "People always think they can control everything until fate speaks up," I chuckle lightly. "I''m listening..."

    "Please think carefully. I know you are hurting now and you are thinking that you can save everything. But because I have an affection towards you, I don''t want you to make a wrong choice just because of a whim."

    Andermis speaks earnestly, but all I see is a man trying to persuade me. I put the letter inside and look at him with empty eyes, interrogating him:

    "Do you think I''m a fickle person?"

    "I believe you are a smart person, but sometimes you may be confused. Think about your family, think about the young housekeeper..."

    "Should I think about you?" I interrupt, teasing him. "If only you would be as persistent as my brother..."

    Andermis'' face becomes a little panicked at my words. He involuntarily steps back, shaking his head repeatedly. Andermis says:

    "I love you, Fiona, but please don''t play with my feelings. Only God knows how much I want to marry you. But I swear I will not touch you when your heart is tied to someone else."

    Suddenly, I feel as though I have committed a wrongdoing. Like Andermis'' words, I have truly toyed with the respect that he had for me. I was too blinded by my own folly to think that others could also deserve to suffer as I am feeling now. I wish to approach him to apologise, but Andermis has left without looking back. Oh God! Have I become such a wretched woman?

 Chapter 8 - The Black Widow (2)

    Autumn of 1911

    Three months after my father''s death, the situation at home is becoming more and more complicated. My mother has been constantly ill since his passing. Every night I hear her crying through the thin walls. Thena has lost her motivation to write, and Diana is no longer interested in teaching or drawing. Diana has become scared of the colours. Without my father, my entire family feels drained of life. The harsh reality pushes me to acknowledge the presence of that letter.

    Ideas have been haunting me for the past three months. My mind seems to be split in two, one side always criticising myself for causing my father to choose. That I could have salvaged the situation with a loveless marriage to Augustin, and now, God has given me another chance to end this situation. But I cannot give up Enzo. I cannot give up my final chance at life.

    I stand by the window, looking out at our small vegetable garden, where Enzo is tirelessly taking care of. A sense of guilt is burning within me right now. Now, I understand what it feels like to be my father. I see what he saw before. Tears suddenly fall after a long time of not knowing what crying feels like. I will do what I have to do, the things that I should have done long ago. I will relieve the suffering of those I love. And above all, they deserve more than what they have now, they deserve a better daughter, sister, and wife.

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    I sit at the desk, straightening my back and putting my heart on the burning tip of the pen. I take a deep breath, as if to finally unify my mind. I have not changed my decision because it is the only thing I can and must do. I will fulfil my father''s wishes. I will do what he was unable to do.

    I open the letter, and the expensive ink smell fills my nostrils. I show no emotions as I pick up the pen. My heart rate slows down by half. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. My eyes close tightly, as if to keep Fiona in the past, in the dark tunnel. Then, I write these fateful words.

    ˇ°Dear, Augustinˇ­ˇ±

 Chapter 8 - The Black Widow (3)

    Early winter, 2nd October 1911

    "Oh Fiona, I''d rather you killed me!"

    Enzo storms out of our little house, while I sit in silence. Everyone, from my mother to my siblings, runs after him, but I stay still. I knew this would happen, but I had to brace myself and accept it. The last thing I want to do is hurt Enzo. I am not a saint, just a regular person who wishes to do something for my family. I had to sacrifice my own life for it. I love Enzo, and I always will, deeply and passionately. I am simply not the woman worthy of his sincere love. I am a wretched woman, a prostitute who sells herself for ambition, a miserable creature unworthy of happiness. I had to play the villain to ensure good things for those who stayed behind. This body has nothing left to regret, and even if I sell it to the devil, I will not complain.

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    My tears flow inwardly, that''s how real they are to me. Because I am feeling a pain that no one can see. I have agreed to Augustin''s proposal, and we will marry at the end of the year. The estate will be mine, along with the castle and the dowry I will receive. I will leave them to my mother and siblings. The only person I do not know how to compensate for is Enzo. I am sure he is very resentful towards me, and I have nothing to defend myself. In this life, I betrayed him. If there is a next life, and if he agrees, I vow to follow him forever.

 Chapter 9 - The Getaway Car (1)

    At Drevolre Manor, on the night of October 4th, 1911,

    "Why... Why would you do this?" Thena stands before me, her face dampened with tears. My younger sister cannot believe that her older sister, whom she always respected, would now become so dishonorable. My mother, Diana, and David also cannot fathom my sudden decision. I sit in the middle of the room, and everyone around me stares at me with astonishment. Returning to the house where we were born and raised, but why does it feel so unfamiliar today? The house is still grand and magnificent, but deep within it is filled with a somber and silent atmosphere. My tongue stiffens like stone, and my words are buried deep within the earth. I only know how to bow my head and say nothing. Tomorrow, Augustin will escort me to London, and then I can consider myself truly dead.

    "Do you really crave wealth so much? Is this life not enough for you?" Thena continuously questions me. In her hand, she holds the manuscripts she wrote before. I clasp my fingers tightly together and calmly say, "When you see what I see, you will act as I do."

    "Stop making excuses, Fiona!" Thena shouts. "Even if you can regain the estate, is it worth what you had to give up?"

    "One day you will thank me for this..." I resist. I never thought I would live long enough to see that day.

    "I will never thank you!" Thena''s emotions erupt like a hellfire, burning my soul. She does not say anything more, but immediately throws the pile of manuscripts into the blazing fireplace. It was the girl''s heart, one of the novels she was about to complete. Why does my heart ache so much when I see the book being eaten by flames? Thena now hates me like an enemy. She wipes away her tears with her hand and points to something she once treasured. She looks at me with hostility and a cold, sharp voice like a knife piercing my broken heart resounds:

    "I wrote it for you and Enzo, but now it seems it doesn''t matter anymore. I''d rather go to the ends of the earth, sleep under the bridge, than have to see your face."

    As she finishes speaking, Thena turns and leaves with her luggage. I stand up and call out to Thena, but she does not bother to turn back. It is only now that I begin to panic. I never anticipated any of this. When I turn around, Mother, David and Diana are also leaving. David passes by me without a glance. I grab his arm and beg desperately:

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    "Don''t go, David..."

    "I have to return to Lady Daphne...", he chuckles reluctantly. "I still have to take care of her garden."

    "You don''t have to work anymore, David. We already have..."

    "Belongs to you, Fiona, these things belong to you," David jerks my hand away. "I have to go."

    Another person leaves me, and I am gradually losing everything I have left. Mother and Diana then follow David. I plead:

    "Please stay, Mother. If not for me, then for your health..."

    But my mother does not bother to answer. She just silently takes Diana''s hand and leaves. As she passes me, Diana quietly whispers in my ear:

    "When things settle down, we will come back..."

    Diana does not stay long and escorts my mother back to the house by the river. Now, I am alone facing the grand castle. The people I cherish have all decided to leave me. It is the heaviest and most painful punishment that one can imagine. The crackling sound from the fireplace wakes me up. I kneel down, looking at the book soaked in the red flames. The thick cover has helped it survive longer against the gnawing whispers of fire. I hastily use my bare hands to take it out before it becomes nothing but ashes. My skin is blistered and red, but my heart is in pain for a different reason.

    My tears slide down my cheeks as I gaze upon the words of the title on the first page. "Dedicated to Fiona and Enzo," Thena has yet to write the ending and the name of the novel, but I know it will be a happy ending. It will be about me and him at fifty years old, with grown children. It will write about him carrying me on his bicycle, riding along dusty roads. Thena will write about the best things between us. But the ink has not yet dried, the period has not yet been placed, and my own hand has destroyed it all.

    The sound of my weeping echoes throughout the grand castle. I have traded everything - love, sincerity, and faith - only to regain something that is already dead.

 Chapter 9 - The Getaway Car (2)

    On the 5th of October, 1911, at the Drevolre Manor,

    The next morning, Augustin comes to take me to London town. This will be the last time I see that house, which I have exchanged for all my happiness. Only Diana comes to bid me farewell, which is just as well. Diana should not have come, as it would give me hope. I am a lost soul, not worthy of redemption. Let me die in the minds of those I love, and please forget the presence of this person. Thena was right, I am greedy. When given a glimmer of hope, I will seek more and be entirely ungrateful for what I have. I have brought this upon myself, and there is no reason for me to resent it.

    Augustin, dressed in a black suit, stands by the carriage door, while Andermis stands beside him in silence. I turn to look at the two men I owe a debt to, my heart full of waves. I kiss Diana''s head, gently saying:

    "Take good care of mother. Now that I''m leaving, Thena and David don''t want to see me anymore. You''ve become the pillar of the family."

    "Can''t you change your mind?" the girl still asks. "We don''t need any of this, sister!"

    "It''s too late, Diana... It''s too late!" I cannot hold back my tears as I speak in despair. "I made a mistake, and now I must pay for it. Please, Diana, help me persuade the family, or even if it''s just you, accept the castle and the estate. Please help me avoid tormenting the remaining years of my life."

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    "Oh Fiona..." The girl embraces me, and we both cry uncontrollably. She is already sixteen, and instead of enjoying the beauty of her age, Diana now has to bear all the burdens. "They say London is very cold in winter. Wear warm clothes and always write to me. And as for the family, I''ll do my best..."

    "Do you forgive me, Diana?" I glance at her one last time before walking away. The car horn starts to urge me on.

    "You''re forgiven," Diana nods.

    "And Enzo... Have you seen him?" No matter how far I go, I cannot forget him.

    Diana shakes her head, while I nod with satisfaction, but my heart cannot lie. I have lost all the games I have played. I hold her tightly one last time before bidding farewell completely. I step into the car, but my heart still lingers here. I turn my head to look at everything around me. The castle basks in the sunshine, the vast meadows, and the deep green hills. We are only two stones away, but we cannot complete it. This place is full of regret for a girl named Fiona Lamstrong, and now she will step into the car, leaving everything deep in the past.

    The car rolls away, and Diana stands outside, watching me leaving forever, while I can only look straight ahead. Andermis and Augustin both look at me as if waiting for a signal. I suppress all my thoughts deep inside me. Taking a deep breath, I say:

    "Let''s go."

    From today on, Fiona Lamstrong is dead, replaced by Fiona Morten, and soon she too will drift into the past.

 Chapter 10 - The Last Tango (1)

    On the 23rd of November, 1911, at Aries House, London.

    Today is my wedding day. To Augustin Morten. Everyone is raising their glasses in celebration, but I feel empty. I have been granted a private room on the second floor by the Morten household, a month prior to the formal ceremony. After tonight''s ceremony, Augustin and I will share a room and begin the "task" of bearing children. I do not feel unfamiliar or hesitant about this, for is it not the mission of a woman in any era? I laugh at the face of destiny. How colourless!

    Here, I have a new maid, and surprisingly, her name is also Anna. Unlike in the countryside, the women''s makeup style here is more discreet, quiet and less colorful. But I am not concerned. What is the point of being beautiful when I cannot feel joy in my heart? I will let Anna put whatever color she wants on my face. If I am beautiful, the Morten household will be proud. If I am ugly, everything will fall on Anna''s fault. Therefore, I believe the maid will know what to do.

    Andermis is waiting for me outside the door to accompany me to the church, where Augustin is waiting. I step out in a white dress adorned with pearls and layers of folded lines that create depth, and a white veil covering my head. Andermis looks at me silently, and even though he says nothing, I can see regret on his face. I politely respond with a stiff smile. He gently teases under a veneer of praise:

    "You are almost the most beautiful!"

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    "Just almost?" I lightly laugh. "Do you know that after today, our positions have changed?"

    "I fully understand that."

    "I will become your sister-in-law...", my voice trails off, sounding melancholy. "What do you think about that?"

    "That you have made a bad decision. But it''s too late now, even if I objected, there is nothing I can do."

    We bow our heads down as if we cannot find anything to say anymore. Anyone who cares about me feels this is a foolish and rash decision. I examine myself in the mirror: a beautiful face adorned with expensive jewellery, but behind it is a tired and worn-out appearance. I no longer have time to look back at the past. The honking of a car below awakens me. It''s time to leave!

    I wrap my arm around Andermis and together we step into the waiting carriage to take us to the church. Before I enter the carriage, Andermis stops me and whispers in my ear:

    "I had hoped you would choose me, but you did not. Nevertheless, I still hope you remember that I will protect you if you need it."

    Before I can respond, Andermis escorts me inside. We sit together on the same bench. Throughout the journey, we do not exchange any words. I watch the continuous stream of people left behind by the carriage, each one happy and free in their own way. Even the travellers have their own pleasures. Only Andermis and I, trapped in the carriage, feel that our days are long and boring. The day we are free to take flight will be our final moment together. Lost in thought, I do not realise that the carriage has stopped right in front of the church. Oh God! What am I going to do?

 Chapter 10 - The Last Tango (2)

    Amister Abbey.

    I tightly hold my breath inside, my feet feel nailed to the threshold of the church. The red carpet stretches all the way in, where the groom and the priest are standing. I feel suffocated, as if all my strength has been sucked down into the ground. Every gaze on both sides of the room is fixed on me. The whispers make me more disoriented. My legs tremble, and my head is dizzy. I can see Augustin standing over there, his face full of impatience. No! I cannot do this! I cannot marry Augustin! I have to leave right now! I have to escape this trap immediately!

    A firm hand grips my arm, preventing me from collapsing in front of the altar. In the midst of the dizziness, as if I had died, a familiar voice pulled me back from death:

    "YouˇŻve got me, my dearest sister."

    I opened my eyes, it was David, my younger brother. He has now become a true man, tall and strong, dressed in a stylish tuxedo, replacing my father''s duty. I stood up straight and hugged him, and he held my hand tightly, as if to erase the fear that was enveloping me. David turned to look at me. His smile reassured this lost soul. He stepped forward, leading me on the path that had been laid out. It was a short path but full of fear, but his presence made me feel calm in the storm.

    "Why did you come?", I asked sincerely. I still thought this would only happen in my wild dreams. But magically, it happened, actually.

    "How could I not come to my sister''s wedding? No matter who she marries...", David''s voice seemed sad, but I felt relieved beyond measure. I felt at ease with him by my side. Like a lifebuoy, his presence had saved my miserable life. And like a resurrection medicine, he whispered softly in my ear:

    "Diana and Mom are here too..."

    "What about Thena?" I suppress a smile hastily. I do not want Morten''s family to think I am really happy. "She was very opposed at first..." David nods his head towards a woman in a light yellow outfit sitting at the end of the bride''s row. "But eventually she came around. Thena still asks about you often, you know, after the argument..."

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    At this point, I can no longer hide my happiness. I tear up in a smile, and luckily it doesn''t ruin my makeup. I quickly wipe away my tears, and at the same time, I arrive at the place to perform the ceremony. I hug David tightly and kiss him on the cheek. I smile at my entire family who is now there. In my heart, I believe they will come, and reality has not proved me wrong. Either way, my family will never abandon me. No matter how naughty I am, I will always be a little baby of the family.

    I stand facing Augustin, and the strength of the whole family that is bestowed upon me makes me strong enough to resist his smile. I do not know if he really loves me or if he loves me partly, but I hope he only married me for this body. Only then will I have a reason to sympathise with myself for vowing to save this heart for Enzo.

    My mind is confused in the lines of thoughts, judgments, and self-questioning that I don''t realise it''s time to say my vows. Everyone in the room expects me to complete the wedding ceremony, but I am like a tightrope walker staggering amidst the audience''s murmurs. I appear agitated, trying to find a place to hold on. The old priest senses it, immediately reminding me of those solemn vows.

    "I... Fiona Lamstrong... solemnly have Augustin Morten to be my lawful husband. I promise to love, honour and obey him in this sacred marriage."

    The paper fireworks explode into the air. My eyes widen in awe. My ears are filled with buzzing sounds. Before me, everything seems to move at half-speed. I can see scraps of red and green paper fluttering in the open space. Sunlight creeps through the window and creates long bright streaks on the intricately designed mosaic floor. Dust particles in the London air drift aimlessly like sea foam in the deep ocean. The applause seems eerie and lifeless. Has the ceremony ended? Everything around me has changed in a strange way. Have I gotten married?

    "I declare you officially husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride!"

    Suddenly, everything rushes like water overflowing a cup, and I cannot resist the force of motion. Now everything has returned to normal, and I have sealed my fate with the kiss Augustin placed on my lips.

    No longer Fiona Lamstrong. Now, I am Fiona Morten, one of the most worthy women in London.

 Chapter 10 - The Last Tango (3)

    The shadowy night falls upon Aries House.

    The grand room, decorated by the Morten family like a ceremonial hall, is where we will hold a ball to celebrate this important day. The participants are all close relatives of both sides, and some of the weaker members of this upper-class society. I recognize a few faces. Mr. Harrington, whom I spoke to with a few words for Thena, in his expensive suit and salt-and-pepper hair, greets me. The Governor Dario Mourice and his wife also come to offer me their kind wishes. And behold, a middle-aged woman with curly golden hair and a pink satin dress, strides elegantly with a cigarette in her mouth. She approaches me and greets me:

    "So... this is the Southern rose. Taylor McLorean."

    "Madam McLorean," I smile and greet her.

    "Taylor, call me Taylor. The title of Madam is just a meaningless thing that men use to flatter us," she says. "When the door is closed, we are all the same."

    I am quite surprised by Taylor McLorean''s natural and familiar demeanour. I am a little confused by her words, not knowing whether they are true or a joke. Perhaps Taylor also senses my awkwardness and speaks first:

    "The Irish girl, Chapter 8."

    "What is that?" I am even more amazed.

    "It seems that the bride has not yet read my latest work," she laughs. "It''s understandable, my works are quite selective of readers."

    "But I know someone who admires you very much, Taylor," I quickly seize this opportunity to help Thena. I know she will jump for joy. I wave to Thena, who is holding a glass of wine in a corner of the room. Although she hesitates at first, she eventually agrees to come over. "May I introduce you to my younger sister, Thena Lamstrong?"

    Thena does not have many opportunities to go all the way to bustling London, the only way for her to get close to her is through pictures in newspapers. Thus, she only sees a wealthy woman standing in front of her. It is not until I introduce Thena to Taylor that she bursts with joy. I let the two of them talk because it is the least I can do. Mom and Diana have asked to come home early to recuperate. Her cough is still not gone, and I have no reason to keep her here with me on this noisy night. As I retreat into a corner with a glass of wine in hand, I see David chatting with Lady Daphne. I feel happy that he finally has someone to share with. The relationship between Kevin and Thena is also better, if what I hear is correct. Kevin is here today. I no longer see the brashness in him from before. I have no right to speak or think about this, but I truly hope the two can be together.

    My husband is completely immersed in political discussions with his friends, and I become a stranger in a room full of "politicians." I shrink into a dark corner, looking at the crowded room and waiting for the music to start. I just want the dancing to quickly end so I do not have to endure this overwhelming experience anymore. Andermis comes to me like a gust of wind. He walks over with a glass of wine and silently drinks. I look at him, then speak up:

    "Don''t you wear a moustache anymore?"

    "I don''t think it''s beautiful anymore, so I stopped," he replies briefly.

    Suddenly, I do not know what else to say. Conversations among people like us always end in embarrassment and discomfort. Greetings, forced smiles, and jokes about London''s weather have become a familiar trait. Andermis reaches out to wipe the wine off my face, full of tenderness and gentleness.

    I stifle my breath and look towards the crowd. This red dress is no different from a machine with iron chains tightly squeezing my body. The orchestra is now making moves. The Philadelphia-based violinists and cellists are specially used to create "modern" and "mischievous" melodies for the artistic and aristocratic London night. I also heard that the music will have the sound of Spanish Tango, and tonight I decided to dance my heart out. This will be my last Tango!

    The crowd starts to move into position, and my respectable husband is waving his hand right in the middle of the dance floor. Andermis escorts me there. Before handing me over to my husband, Andermis whispered in my ear and said:

    "Tonight will be a long night for you..."

    I wish Andermis would tell me more clearly instead of being so vague, it will only make my mind more confused. My hand is nestled in Augustin''s hand, and the music starts playing before I can even sort out my thoughts. The gentle sound comes up, we are one beat late, but we quickly catch up. Augustin guides my hand to his shoulder, and at the same time, his hand is placed behind my back, and both our feet begin to step in rhythm. This is not a dance, it is just the movement of two soulless bodies. I am not a bad dancer, but my feet do not feel like moving. Couples are dancing around us, gently supporting the golden couple of the performance night. This is not the dance I wanted. This is not the Tango I have been waiting for.

    "Do you feel happy?"

    "Yes, my dear husband...", I reply. Anyone with enough delicacy can see the regret on my face.

    "I know you''re not comfortable...", Augustin whispers as he turns me around.

    "About what?", I''m surprised. His arm pulls me close to him.

    "That I''ve tried everything to marry you."

    Augustin raises his arm straight, I lean back and bounce back. We continue to take small steps and turn. I just smile slightly without saying anything. Augustin continues:

    "But that''s how I show my love. I''ll never give up on you."

    "... Yes, my love."

    I do not know what else to say. The music still echoes in rhythm. The melody is cheerful, but why do I hear sadness and dullness? My muscles do not even feel like dancing anymore. I leave everything to Augustin to coordinate. He goes West, I''ll go West. He chooses South, I will not object.

    Augustin was never a skilled dancer. He keeps stepping on my feet, but I don''t feel like saying anything. We still try to follow the first beat of the dance. As the music gradually comes to an end, Augustin looks at me and smiles lightly, saying:

    "Dancing is not my strength..."

    "You tried!", I console him. I intended to say that I am the same, but Augustin saw me dance at the ball, and he certainly wouldn''t believe that.

    "If you want, in the second part, you can dance with other guests too."

    Augustin has just made a very tempting proposal to me. I was initially inclined to accept it, but then an inner force made me hesitate. I look around the room at everyone chatting with each other, as well as pairing up for the second dance. The desire to let loose one last time in me suddenly fades when I cannot find another heart to synchronise with. David has paired up with Lady Daphne, Thena and Mr. Harrington with another couple, and countless others have found their dance partners. I only have one option left, Andermis, but I do not want to join hands with him. There is an invisible affection between us that I do not know how to describe. I hold my breath, then slowly exhale with disappointment. I smile at Augustin who is waiting. If there is no suitable dance partner, even if I have to change dozens or hundreds of men, my feet will never move to the beat.

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    As my lips prepare to decline and ask him to return to the drawing room, a familiar voice behind me makes all my senses go wild. I know this voice, even if I die, I cannot forget it.

    "May I have the honour of dancing with the bride?"

    The entire room suddenly falls silent. The band also stops because of the sudden appearance of a stranger. Enzo is standing in front of me unexpectedly. He is wearing a cream white suit, and his appearance now looks bright and extremely gentlemanly. I have not seen him in two months, and Enzo has shed his old self. Although I still recognise him, I feel extremely surprised. Part of me feels jealous of him. I have never stopped missing this man, but I do not want him to appear again. Why does every time I think I am settled to face the hell I created, the doors of heaven open in front of me?

    He and I lock eyes, the entire room filled with an awkward atmosphere. My eyes are brimming with tears, but why does he only give me an emotionless look? He does not blame, resent, or show any intense emotions. The person standing before me is just like a figure wearing Enzo''s appearance, but the man inside has disappeared!

    I try to suppress my emotions. The room is silent, and the sound of my pounding heart seems to be the dominant voice. I could even dance to the beat of my heart if I had to. I slowly release myself from Augustin''s embrace and walk towards him. I forgot to say a word to Augustin, but I cannot delay a moment longer. In my dreamy state, I am afraid that I will lose him again. The label of "married woman" pulls me away from hugging and kissing him deeply, but I cannot hide the passion I have for him. Like other women when they are paired, I kneel and greet him, placing my hand on his shoulder, and he holds my hand tightly. I want to say something to him, but my lips are stuck as if glued. I turn to look at Augustin standing behind me. I think he will be angry or something, but my husband just smiles lightly and steps back. I look at the band and request a fast-paced tango. I will dance until my legs give out, or even if I have to die from exhaustion, I will still dance.

    The music starts, a melody tinted with jealousy and hatred. We move apart, creating a large distance between us. We walk in opposite directions as the music plays, both of our gazes filled with regret. I remove my gloves and approach him once again. Our hands intertwine, and suddenly he tightens his grip, creating a pivot point for me to spin around like a top. Enzo does not wait for me to say anything. He seizes me in his arms, then pushes me away. The music still follows a fast-paced rhythm, as if the dance floor were a race track for all emotions. Like a story on stage, I run away from reality, and Enzo pulls me back to him with all the force of jealousy and resentment. The betrayal I have given him is too great for him to be gentle with me once again. We chase each other around my husbandˇŻs home. Every time he pulls me back into his arms, my heart beats faster and my breath becomes shallow. Our lips are only inches apart, but I cannot get any closer. I want to kiss him. I want to bite him. I want to drown in him. But when I am about to reach the pinnacle of it all, he pushes me away, as a way of getting revenge for what I''ve done.

    "Enzo...Please..."

    "Why do you even bother calling my name?" His heart has turned to ice, deadened by me.

    "I''m sorry...Enzo...I''m sorry for hurting you..." I weep tears. I only beg him for forgiveness, even just a little.

    Enzo spins me around in a circle, then pushes me away. In a flash, he catches my hand and leans back, stretching out his legs, showing off his fair skin. He pulls me back into his arms. I have killed the Enzo of the past! The person in front of me is no longer him, but only an Enzo full of hatred.

    "I will never forgive you!"

    The sound of the violin reaches up to the sky, spreading pain and anguish that pierce through my shattered heart. Couples gracefully waltz around us like tiny satellites. The main stage is ours. Struggle, animosity, betrayal, and fervent pleas. I am increasingly enamoured with this vengeful man. My heart cannot contain its cries. I love him, love him ardently.

    "Nevertheless, I still love you, Enzo."

    "A woman like you has no right to profess love to anyone, Fiona," Enzo looks at me disdainfully. This is the emotion I want to see. Only then am I certain he still feels something for me. "Don''t give anyone hope, Fiona!"

    I become more brazen. I repeatedly loosen my grip, forcing Enzo to take hold of me. When he pulls me close, I place my hand on his chest. It is still warm, just like the days when he would hold me close. I place my hand on his cheek, our noses touching, and then I stop. I release my hold, spin around quickly, and unbutton a few of Enzo''s shirt buttons. He closes his eyes, shaking his head as if trying to rid himself of those images. He is the frame, and I am the painting. All of his actions and gestures are just means for a woman like me to shine.

    Our foreheads touch, and I almost kiss him. Enzo looks at me with a pained expression. He grips my chin tightly. In a reproachful tone, he pushes me towards another man on the dance floor, saying in agony:

    "Why can''t I stop loving a harsh woman like you?"

    Enzo stands there watching as I fall into the embrace of a nearby man. The music becomes harsh and pounding. With just a few steps, I am pushed into the arms of another man. I am like a cheap plaything for all the men in London. I desperately search for him in the crowd, but all I receive is a cold glance from him.

    Their hands are on my hands, then on my chest. Their breath wraps around my body. The smell of tobacco, cigars, and their lovers'' perfumes. I have to dance like a courtesan with all the tricks under my red lace. I release their hands and run straight to Enzo. He just stands there, but why can I not touch him? The distance between me and him is just a blink of an eye, but why does it seem like I have been running for miles and still cannot reach him? My hand reaches out to him, hoping that he will take it. But he remains the same, just looking at me with a heavy gaze. I am then caught by another man when I am about to go back to him. The music still rushes like a debt collector for love. I look at him and he gets further and further away from me, but I cannot break away from this dance.

    Spin. Lean. Embrace.

    Spin. Lean back. Hand in hand.

    My heart suddenly screams with each beat as Enzo slowly walks away. He leaves me once again. I abandon my dance, leaving everything behind to chase after him. Please, God, don''t let him go! Please, let me hold him once again! I have known the mistakes of my life! I will give up everything and go with him to a faraway place! I do not need anything else! Please, let me be with him! One more timeˇ­

    Everything is like a haunting nightmare. The more I run towards him, the more the men at the evening ball become crazed in pulling me back. Layers of my dress are being ripped off by them one by one. But I care no more, I just want to be closer to him. I reach out towards him, they pull harder. The room becomes a theatre and we are performers. The judgmental eyes are focused on me. My clothes are gradually becoming thinner. The distance between me and him is getting closer. A smile blooms on my lips. Just a little bit more! They have started to peel off my corset. Hundreds of men are waiting to tear apart this woman''s last piece of cloth. Those who are far away just watch with bullet-like eyes ready to pierce through this worn-out body. I strain my body with all my might. My arm veins stretch like an elastic cord, and if I try too hard, my arms may break apart. But I will ignore everything just to be with him.

    The music never seems to stop. On the contrary, it becomes stronger and more vengeful. A fire springs up from nowhere, right below the floor, immediately surrounding us. It''s only me and Enzo, with demonic arms pulling me back. I have to fight for him! I have to fight for my own happiness! But why do I start feeling scared? I have only one last layer of cloth on me. I am close to touching him, but it also means that my body will be completely exposed. The tearing sound echoes hauntingly in my ears. Tears stream down my face. I almost make it, but end up failing. Immediately, I am pulled back, and I fall down, still holding the last piece of cloth, but also meaning that I have lost him forever.

    As reality strikes once again at the door, I fall onto the floor as I try to spin around. There is no arm to hold onto me, no fire scorching on the floor, and my body is still clothed in every layer, all of it just an illusion I am seeing. I look at Enzo with an indignant gaze, a tear rolling down my cheek. The music stops because of it. Augustin quickly rushes to me and holds me close to his chest. He looks at me with care as if I had just experienced an earthquake inside. Augustin wipes the tear from my eye corner, and anxiously asks:

    "How are you?"

    "I''m fine...," I shake my head lightly in response. "Can you take me to the room?"

    "What''s wrong with you?"

    "Probably just lack of sleep...," I blurt out. "I''m just a little dizzy..."

    As I speak, I check Enzo''s attitude, but he does not seem to care at all. He even turns and leaves the room before everyone''s shocked eyes. Augustin, too worried about me, forgets to question him, and that makes me appreciate my husband even more. Augustin gently carries me up the stairs, heading to our room. My heart feels like it''s dying again when I see him leaving. Why do I not feel relieved when he shows no signs of hatred towards me? Why does he not blame, scold, or even curse me? Have I become a woman who does not exist in his life anymore? If we were each other''s pain, please God, take my life away right now. Let me die instead of enduring it!

    Augustin escorts me to the room, unaware that I am still glueing my eyes to him. Along the way, I hope he will turn around and look at me. But all I get is his gradually disappearing back. The door opens and closes, Enzo has vanished from my life for the last time, and a premonition tells me that this is the last time we will ever meet.

    I close my eyes, tears falling wet on Augustin''s shoulder and the red carpet beneath my feet. The festivities downstairs must continue, but within me, everything has withered away. That dance will be my final dance. My heart has died today, and I will not dance with any man again until my last breath...

 Chapter 11 - Dignity (1)

    Aries House, London, February 14, 1912.

    On my first birthday at my husband''s home, everything seems so strange to me. Almost three months have passed since I became Augustin''s wife, and I found out that I was not quite ready for this. My life here is too leisurely, making me feel like my real life has not even started yet. I look at the scattered letters on my dressing table, one of the few things that help me realize that I still exist. Although there is no news from Enzo, the congratulatory cards from my siblings and mother have warmed this little heart of mine.

    However, I cannot deny the good things in London. There are many new and old bookstores, and Andermis even told me that there is one at the end of the street that still keeps rare and possibly banned books. Women in London are also more respected. They can go to school and participate in social activities without being judged by others. To some extent, it is still different from what we, country girls, think.

    To keep myself from going crazy, I found another hobby: studying. It is interesting that Andermis is very good at it. He studied Law in Germany a few years before meeting me at the Festival. From the stories that I told him, Andermis has persuaded me to pursue this academic path. At first, except for Andermis, no one in my husband''s family wanted me to study, thinking that I already had a complete education, and that it would only "make me arrogant," in what way, I do not know. They also think that it''s "not feminine" for me to study something like law, and they suggest that I study art if possible. Augustin finally agreed, but on the condition that I take care of my family more. Yes, that is what I am talking about. Augustin thought that I am not really passionate about our marriage, and the truth is, I am not. I feel like I have done enough and fulfilled my duty as a wife, taking care of him and making him happy, but deep down, we both feel like something is missing. I once again gave you my promise, but within me I am unsure if I can keep it. I cannot be tender with Augustin and still feel normal. Every time I close my eyes, the only person I see is him, alone. All else is a shadow I cannot grasp.

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    I have dressed anew in preparation for my twenty-first year. Augustin enters and looks at me in wonder. He steps towards me, one hand slipping inside his waistcoat as if holding something. He places a kiss on my lips, which I receive as any wife would from her husband. Augustin looks pleased and exclaims, "You look beautiful!"

    I smile in response, replacing words. My husband then seems to recall something and withdraws his hand from his coat, revealing a large, dark green, square-shaped box. I am astonished but know what it is. Augustin chuckles and says, "I have a gift for you."

    "Oh, you don''t have to do that...", I reply.

    "Everything is for my love."

    Augustin opens the box, displaying before me a diamond necklace with a feathered pattern, full of color. I am stunned, instantly feeling suffocated. If Augustin had acted a little vulgar towards me, I would feel less tormented. Looking at the necklace, now adorning Augustin''s neck, my smile turns into embarrassment. The necklace is beautiful, luxurious, and as light as a feather, yet I feel like I am being suffocated and imprisoned. It seems I have touched upon the greatest fear of this marriage: that Augustin loves me not just for my body but for me. The feeling of responsibility again binds me. God will curse me if I am cold or vulgar to someone who truly loves me. But then, a dark part of my soul emerges to defend its own ugliness. Is this not the first time I have broken the heart of a man who truly loved me?

    My husband turns me around, directing my gaze towards my reflection in the mirror. A Mrs. Morten appears modern, alluring and elegant as she gazes back at me. The reflection is luxurious and surreal beyond measure. Unconsciously, I grasp his hand as a token of gratitude. I turn around, giving him a kiss. It is a small and insignificant gesture, but all I can offer him. Our foreheads touch, our bodies holding onto each other tightly. If only everything could be as effortless as this...

    I open my eyes, waking up to reality. My breath turns icy. Softly, I say:

    "We should go now. Everyone is waiting for us."

 Chapter 11 - Dignity (2)

    I descend the stairs in a flowing gown with a necklace reminiscent of past beauties. Augustin has thrown a celebratory party, despite my protestations that it is unnecessary. After all, most of the guests are his friends and acquaintances. I have few friends in attendance, just four close friends from my Law class whom I have invited to spare me from the tedium of conversing with the men in the room.

    Three out of four of my friends arrive early. Ariel, the daughter of an accountant, is a sweet-natured girl amongst us. Mary is shy, the fifth daughter in a middle-class family, with parents who are both teachers at a primary school. Thomas, the only male in our group, is a man with a great secret that he will take to his grave. The eyes of the crowd converge upon my friends, making me uncomfortable. I approach them immediately to dispel the tension.

    The elegantly-dressed and firmly-placed society figures in attendance are ready to pass judgement with a single glance towards those who appear weaker. My friends may not be wearing expensive outfits, but they will not bore anyone with talk of the weather or petty commentary on systems and structures. And now, I worry about my last friend''s arrival because...

    The conversation becomes hurried and the entire crowd immediately stops. Everyone looks in one direction, as if the audience is gazing at a freak in the circus. My worst fears have come true. Layla, my last friend, instantly becomes the centre of attention for no reason whatsoever. I am certain that the uproar the crowd is causing outside pertains to the same subject, and I know what that is. Oh, Layla, my friend, it is just too unfair! Why can God not have mercy on that poor girl? I rush to embrace her, in full view of everyone, even my husband''s family. I smile reassuringly at my friends. I have promised that everything will be alright when I decided to invite them, and I will not let my guests feel uncomfortable and leave. As a person from a normal family with no wrongdoing, as someone who is "different" with no prejudice, and moreover, as a person with a different skin colour, there is no fault!

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    There is an extreme differentiation between the two sides of the room, even though we are in the same place, for the same purpose of celebrating my birthday. I jestingly call it social hierarchy, which we are discussing at this very moment. Occasionally, I turn to look at the expressions of my in-laws. Not surprisingly, they also have a displeased look on their faces towards us, especially my mother-in-law, Mrs. Rose. Somehow, she always sees me as a thorn in her eye, or at least that is how I feel. She has never truly opened up to me, despite my best efforts to become a member of the family. Then I turn my gaze to my husband. Fortunately, he does not pay too much attention to my friends, but he is indifferent to the point of hopelessness. Watching him appear to be completely focused on the stories, the issues, and the people who were shocked to see my friends only makes me more uncomfortable.

    <hr>

    I have to "enjoy" the birthday party even after my friend has left. I reluctantly smile at the people in the room, as if I really appreciate them. There are just so many empty greetings. There are also the jokes that I try hard to laugh at to show that I am very interested. Feeling like a surplus person, an outsider, always happens to me in this very house. I sit next to Augustin with a glass of wine in my hand, listening carefully to the stories about oil mines in the Soviet Union; a new-born Germany that is developing extremely powerful, and a ship rumoured to be "unsinkable" that will be launched this year, with a voyage to New York starting in April. Occasionally, I add some comments, some claps, or a charming smile to each story. I have to show that I really admire that talent, that profoundness in that "terrifying" mass of knowledge!

 Chapter 11 - Dignity (3)

    I had thought that when the last guest left the house, the torment for me would end. But no, I still have one evening party reserved for family members only. When there is no more unfamiliar face, the true face of the house is officially revealed. My father-in-law and mother-in-law sit at either end of the table, with Augustin and me on one side, and Andermis sitting alone across from us. Not a single sound is made, making even someone as hardened as me afraid.

    The sound of cutlery clashing against the surface of the high-quality porcelain imported entirely from China is a painful and ear-splitting one. I can translate that sound into two words: anger and hatred. I signal to the footman to fill up my glass of wine. I need a bit of alcohol to calm myself before the intimidating gaze of my respected mother-in-law. Looking at the lavish spread fit for kings and queens on the table, deciding which dish to eat first is also a difficult problem. Should I have the grilled lamb chops or the roast chicken wings? I think I should just have a little soup and then wash it down with red wine. Lots of red wine!

    My mother-in-law cuts a piece of meat on her plate, the sound of the knife and fork clattering and the splashing of sauce making me shudder. Her eyes are fixed on the hot and fragrant piece of meat, and she says to me:

    "Are you happy, my child?"

    "Yes, mother..." I hesitate for a moment before answering. "The conversations, the friends..."

    "Friends?" She immediately interrupts. Her hands also stop cutting the meat. She looks up at me directly. What makes my mother-in-law extremely terrifying is her face without any emotion, but everyone can feel the deathly aura emanating from her. "Oh, your friends. I thought your husband had hired more servants. Our house has enough commoners already!"

    The whole table is silent, with no one daring to move or say anything, except for my mother-in-law who continues eating as if nothing has happened. My father-in-law follows suit. I look at my husband, seeking some fragile help, but he decides to ignore it and just scoops up the rest of his soup. Only Andermis shows his displeasure with his mother''s remarks. Andermis was not present at the morning and afternoon parties due to work, so I did not expect much from him. I really want to question him, but I am too weak to speak up. In this house, I am just an outsider, a machine that cannot operate correctly. My words have no weight, and I have no reason to try to argue. However, as long as there is a fight, there is still life, but I have already packaged my fate since the day I moved here!

    Andermis puts down his knife and fork, and his action surprises me so much that I have to put my meat back in its original place. Andermis shakes his head with extreme disgust. The discomfort is so evident on his face that before finishing his meal, he quickly folds his napkin and throws it on the table. He interrogates in a cold tone: "If you donˇŻt like FionaˇŻs friends, you can say it out loud. Why do you have to belittle them?"

    Andermis standing up for me has involved the whole family. Everyone stops their cutlery and remains silent for a long time, as if an unspoken agreement has frozen this house. I can feel the tension is reaching its peak, like a bomb counting down to explode. I see my husband trying to signal to Andermis not to be foolish. Even my father-in-law is a bit cautious and shows some discomfort towards his youngest son. I have resigned myself to remaining silent and letting everything pass, but what Andermis does for me, or at least what I feel, moves me and I do not want him to be punished for it. I try to smile to change the atmosphere. I look straight at Andermis and slowly say: "Andermis, it''s okay. I should have told everyone about my friends beforehand."

    But my mother-in-law is extremely enthusiastic about playing the role of the villain. Before I could finish my sentence, she interrupts me with an extremely haughty attitude. She looks up at us, completely disregarding what I say, and pronounces, "I do not think they are in a high enough position to be degraded any further." My mother-in-law''s steeliness immediately makes the whole family pause and contemplate. "Do not forget how those people have harmed us!"

    It seems that my husband''s family has had an unsavoury history with people like my friends, to the point where Andermis'' face shows clear shame and he falls silent. Andermis slams his fist on the table and stands up. I startle and lean back as if this is a scene I did not expect to happen. Andermis looks at his mother with angry eyes. I look at him, and those blue eyes like the deep ocean show a hint of distant sadness and tears. Andermis trembles and says, "I said she has her own secrets!"

    "I simply do not care!" She dismisses her son''s intentions as if discarding cigarette butts. "That is a shame for us, and no one is allowed to forget it!"

    Like a drop of water overflowing a glass, Andermis leaves the table in anger. As he leaves, a strong commotion occurs, causing the wine glasses on the table to spill. I am lucky to hold onto my glass, but I am shocked by what I see. At this point, I can no longer endure the terrible feeling. I wonder what my mother-in-law''s heart is made of. Is it made of iron, stone, or diamond? Why can she be so cold and merciless? And what has caused her to have such a heavy outlook on them?

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    I know this is a moment of madness and I still choose to do it. It is difficult to imagine someone with a steady mind like that, when my mother-in-law can still eat normally. I laugh lightly, very gently. But by some miraculous means, my mother-in-law is moved by the very naive, cheerful and strange face of her beloved daughter-in-law.

    "Your wife seems to be very interested in our debate, Augustin?"

    How interesting! She used the word "debate" instead of "argument", "quarrel", "judgement", "attack" or any language strong enough to encompass that moment. Augustin quickly turned to hold my hand as if hitting softly, keeping me from losing it. But my husband underestimated my stubbornness. Today, I really want to see where her limits are.

    "Why does mother have a scholarly attitude towards people like them? Did they steal something from this house?"

    "Fiona, I don''t think that''s an appropriate term!", Augustin quickly scolds me. His hand holds onto me tightly as if a trap had caught the poor mouse.

    "Have you ever tried to stand by my side?", I say lightly to my husband with the attitude he was showing me. I know Augustin would never stand by me, but I still want to ask, because I want to see his fawning expression.

    Clearly, Augustin then lets go of my hand. He withdraws like a pet dog in its crib. Needless to say, how disappointed I am in him, and my father-in-law does not even bother to say a word. Only me and her face each other, like many mother-in-law and daughter-in-law relationships vividly described in fairy tales.

    When my mother-in-law lays all the silverware on the table, that is when I know she is ready for a complete domination. I hold my breath, waiting for her imminent attack, but instead, I receive a careless mockery from her expressionless face.

    "Something more valuable than you can imagine, my dear."

    "What could be worth more than being seen as equal to others, mother?" I feel repulsed by the words ''my dear'' coming from her. I am not even sure if she truly loves anything.

    "Dignity, Fiona," my mother''s voice is as light as air. "For someone with a family stripped of titles and everything, like you, I think you know how important that is!"

    I bow my head. Her words have awakened me from my own triviality. Yes, I should understand how the hierarchy of these things works. I should remember what I had to lose to have these things. Everything. Absolutely everything. The luxurious necklace that Augustin gave me almost made me forget who I was. I have nothing else to say. I am completely mute. Now I understand why everyone in the family fears my mother. Because she has the superior ability to evoke the most frightening things in a person who should have forgotten them.

    As if catching my long tail, she continues:

    "If you think this status is easy to come by, this whole London would be full of people..."

    "Middle class, homosexual, people of colour, those who are not worthy?" I say with a sarcastic tone. If my mother-in-law was reluctant to say words like that, things that are considered indecent, then let me fill in the gaps. I am too familiar with the ''indecent'' things like th

    "Indeed!", she is taken aback for a moment by my statement, but quickly regains her usual sharpness. "And now everyone at the party thinks we are associating with people like that."

    I have had enough of this insult, and I will not take it anymore. I fold my handkerchief and place it on the table. I apologise to everyone with the usual excuse that I am full, but everyone knows that already. As I stand up to leave, my mother-in-law pushes me a little further.

    "If I knew you were befriending people like that, I wouldn''t have allowed it. You will stay home from tomorrow on."

    I am shocked and appalled to hear her arbitrarily decide everything like that. I try to suppress my emotions as much as possible, but that has reached my limit of endurance. I shake my head in protest, "I will not quit school!"

    "I said you will," she gently says with a confident look on her face.

    I know she will not agree no matter how many times I say it, a hundred times or a thousand times, she will remain the same even when my throat melts. So I turn to my husband, hoping he will not disappoint me this time. But when I call his name, Augustin just shakes his head silently. He had given up completely before I even spoke up. Overwhelmed with disappointment and frustration, I run up the stairs to my room. I lock the door, frantically taking off the priceless necklace around my neck. In a blind rage, I hurt myself with the clasp while trying to find the knot of the necklace. My skin turns a purplish-red and is covered in scratches. I throw the jewellery on the bed, then scream out in vain. Is this the hell that I have thrown myself into?

 Chapter 11 - Dignity (4)

    "Fiona, open the door for me!"

    I hear Augustin''s call and incessant knocking at the door, but I do not want to pay attention. What can I expect from a husband who does not even dare to speak up for his wife? I had intended to ignore Augustin''s words, but I cannot let him continue to make noise like this. I stand facing the door, staring sternly at Augustin as if the door were invisible. I shout angrily:

    "I don''t want to see you!"

    "What do you want me to do then?", I can sense Augustin''s face right now. Surely he is also frowning in anger.

    "So do you agree with what mother says? That my friends are a disgrace to morality?"

    "I...", my husband stammers, as if he cannot find a better reason to defend her. "She is my mother! God will curse me if I make her unhappy!"

    "And I am your wife!", I shout in disgust. Finally, I had to come up with a reason that could not be argued about the usual ethical standards. Augustin really loves me, but that feeling will never be as great as what he has for his mother. I know I have no right to compare, but I cannot stand him not standing up for me even when I am right. Augustin is giving me a reason to justify my lack of sincerity, but why am I so upset?

    "You''re being irrational!"

    Augustin shouts in a hoarse voice, then slams the door hard. I startle, thinking that the punch alone would have knocked the door off its hinges. I step back, afraid he will step in aggressively. Augustin has never laid a hand on me, but somehow I still appear afraid. I stand inside, panting like an athlete, listening to my husband''s curses and my eyes suddenly well up with tears. I quickly run to the door, checking the left lock if it is safe. I have to check two, three times, until my nails are scratched by the continuous and frantic movements. Even the chair is placed in front of the door as a blockade. All the items that could be used to block the door are used already. As I grow weary, I lean back against the wall, then sit down, lost in thought. What am I trying to do?

    Running away?

    <hr>

    I must have dozed off, for I only wake up when I hear a knock on the door. I look up at the clock and see that it''s already two in the morning. Surely everyone, even my husband, must be deeply asleep by now. Who could possibly come to find me at this hour? I quickly get up, put on my guard armour, and stand watch. I am not a superstitious person, but I believe in God and hell. Could demons come to take me away?

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    "Fiona?" I recognise the voice. It''s Andermis'', and I immediately breathe a sigh of relief. I take a deep breath to calm myself down. Quietly, I walk up to the door and tap it softly as an answer. Then I say out loud, "Wait for me a minute."

    My minute is almost ten minutes. I need to deal with the "fortress" I have built to protect myself, although it takes time, it gives me peace of mind. I open the door to welcome Andermis, but he refuses to come in. My brother-in-law, really shy, smiles at me in the way we always do when we meet. He gently says, "I just came to check if you''re okay."

    "Still intact," I shrug and smile. "Thank you, Andermis. For this, and for standing up for me."

    "I just couldn''t bear to hear her mean words," Andermis responds. "She never makes anyone feel comfortable."

    "If only Augustin were the same," I whisper. I had hoped that Augustin would show me some noble gesture beyond expensive gifts.

    Both of us look at each other and chuckle like mice sneaking around the kitchen looking for food. Andermis tells me that my husband is sound asleep in his room, and he only dared to come to me when Augustin was in a deep sleep. Furthermore, Andermis has another reason for meeting me.

    Andermis reaches behind his back and hands me a book along with a hastily folded paper crane. He looks somewhat embarrassed as he hands it to me. Although the sky is pitch black and there is no light, I can tell that his cheeks are turning red. Stammering, Andermis says:

    "This is my belated birthday present for you. I wish I had more time to wrap it..."

    "No worries! It''s a wonderful gift!"

    I quickly hug the book to my chest and thank him so that Andermis doesn''t have to feel awkward about the gift not being wrapped in colourful paper. It''s a book about law, titled The Foundation of the First Literary Laws. I open the book and smell the fresh paper as if it were a panacea. I cannot, and do not want to hide my joy at this. I stand on tiptoes, kiss Andermis on the cheek as a thank-you, and do it subjectively because I want to. I could have just said thank you and gone back to my room, but my rank and position held me back, and the kiss on the cheek was all I could control. What can I say, when I am a corrupt woman hiding behind the cloak of nobility. I no longer have such reservations. I feel lonely, just like that.

    "Thank you, Andermis. This is the best thing I''ve received today."

    I close the door, place the small paper crane on the dresser, and lie down on the bed with the book on my chest. My twenty-first birthday may be the second worst after last year''s, but at least, late in the day, I''ve regained a small bit of joy for myself. I may love Andermis, but the bond between me and Enzo is too deep. Even though Enzo despises me to his last breath, I will still be a virgin waiting for him, longing for a love that will never be returned. I close my eyes, and immediately the image of me and Enzo reappears.

    I hastily wake up, as if something inside me has come alive. I walk to the door, unlock it on the left. I stand there for a moment as if trying to understand why I did that. I turn back to the bed, pulling the blanket up to my chest. I inhale a long breath and exhale. My breath is slow and my mind begins to blur. I languish, in the melancholy of desire.

 Chapter 11 - Dignity (5)

    I wake up the next morning amidst the ease of hostility. My mood is also better than last night. When I open my eyes, a bunch of carnations has been placed on the bedside table, accompanied by a handwritten note. It must be from my husband, hoping to soothe my mood. Reading each handwritten line brimming with tenderness, I feel nothing, but at least Augustin is making an effort. I tell the maid to put the flowers in a vase and place them on my dressing table. As for the note, I tuck it into a notebook and put it in a drawer.

    From now on, one day for me becomes too long compared to a lifetime. At this time of day before, I would be discussing the lessons with classmates. My book is filled with questions and criticisms of the Roman Law class, but it seems I have no chance to voice them anymore. Today is a day of the week, but I have decided to go to church. The holiness of God will keep me at ease.

    The maid Anna helps me tighten my corset. I do not know if it was because I have gained weight or Anna has not eaten breakfast, but tightening the laces is incredibly difficult. When I am about to lose my patience, my mother-in-law happens to pass by and intervenes.

    "Let me do it."

    I know it is not a good thing, like Eve''s apple, but I have to accept it. Anna leaves the room, leaving me and my mother-in-law. She helps me tighten the strings so tightly that my waist and bust are abnormally large and my hips are as small as an hourglass. That is the standard of beauty for women like us. I am so used to it that I do not even know what pain is. My mother-in-law suddenly whispers in my ear:

    "I might hear about the two of you not sleeping together last night?"

    "We had a little quarrel...", I reply softly.

    "That''s your marriage, and I don''t want to intervene. But..." She stops, jerking the string so hard that I let out a cry. "We are women, and our greatest and most sacred mission is..."

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    My mother-in-law turns me around to adjust the creases at the front. I do not know why, but today I feel suffocated by my corset more than usual. It gives me the sensation of the first and second times I wore it. My mother-in-law stops her hand and looks at everything, smiling at me to finish her sentence:

    "...To have a child."

    I do not know how many times I have been reminded of this mission. I am aware that becoming a mother is a wonderful and sacred thing, but I also feel tired of the fact that what people expect from women only lies in childbirth. Thena is right, women like us are still treated unfairly. Unfortunately, just like my fate, our voices are too small to express ourselves. People with ideas like Thena are too few, while the rest have become too accustomed to their misery.

    "IˇŻm trying, mother...", I reply softly.

    "I don''t see that, Fiona," she says sharply. "I have no right to interfere in your bedroom affairs, but if I knew you were trying to avoid this matter, I wouldn''t stay silent!"

    "Yes, mother...", I reply timidly. She really frightens me. I have a feeling I will have to face her for a long time. Suddenly, I realise that I still value my life.

    "Are you planning to dress up and go somewhere?", she smiles and asks. Augustin previously said that she was a famous stage actress when she was young. Just a moment ago, she was angry with me, and now she smiles as if nothing had happened.

    "I''m going to the church... I need to be enlightened about my responsibilities...", I answer to please her.

    "What a coincidence, I''m planning to go there too," she responds surprisingly. I''m sure there''s nothing coincidental about it. "So let''s go together!"

    "Yes, mother..."

    I suddenly recall the painting Nightmare by the artist Henry Fuseli. A beautiful young girl lies stretched out on a chaise longue, with her head and arm drooping down. She wears a delicate white gown, and sleeps peacefully as if nothing in the world could disturb her. But from somewhere, a dark and malevolent demon has appeared and now lies upon her body. The demon sits calmly as if it has been watching her for a long time. Its lifeless eyes gaze into the distance, as if contemplating something sinister.

 Chapter 12 - The American Dream (1)

    March 1912

    "Thank you for coming to see me, Thena," I embrace her tightly, like a spring vine clinging to a tree branch. Thena has found a job at an editorial office in Oxford with the help of Mr. Harrington. Although she has not officially become an editor yet, I believe sooner or later my younger sister will achieve her dream. I offered to come to Oxford to help her find accommodation and arrange her belongings, but Thena refused. However, she promised to come to London to meet me and update me on her situation.

    My sister and I did not go to a fancy tea shop, but sat in a quaint and ordinary place. We sat outside. Being confined in that mansion all day, I had forgotten what it was like to bask in the sun. Another reason we chose this place is the free bookshelves that customers can read while enjoying a cup of tea.

    "How are things at home?" I ask.

    "The last time I was home, everything was fine," she takes a sip of her tea. "Mom''s cough has gotten better, David is gaining the trust of Lady Daphne, and Diana..."

    "How is the little one?" I worry.

    "She is fine, but no one would have thought she would be the one to manage the estate," Thena says with admiration. "Diana was born for this job. She''s doing really well."

    "I''m happy for her," I laugh with joy. However, part of me feels guilty for bringing her into this path too soon.

    We pause for a moment without saying anything. London''s streets are wide, and people pass by in streams. Pigeons, like distant travellers, flock down the street in search of unusual prey. I sigh, then turn to look at Thena. She looks like she has a lot on her mind. I take her hand in mine. With a gentle squeeze, I say:

    "Thank you for forgiving me..."

    "How do you know I have forgiven you?" The little girl looks at me gently.

    "Just being able to meet you is enough."

    "I really wanted to hate you," the girl hesitates. "But I can''t..."

    "Enzo... Have you seen him?" I wonder. Lately, I often see him in my dreams. With the sixth sense of a woman, I sense something.

    "No, I haven''t seen him. Since the day you got married, he never appeared again," the girl shakes her head. "But before he left, he came to see mother."

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    "Did he say anything to her?" I eagerly ask. Even now, I still hold a dream that is so far away.

    "Yes..." Thena nods shyly. "He said..."

    "What did he say?" I ask anxiously. Emotion fills both sides of my eyes.

    "He said he would go to America. There is a big ship that will depart this April. He decided to leave behind the pain of England."

    Will Enzo go far away? Will he leave these memories behind? Will he leave me and depart for good? I really cannot accept this terrible thing that might happen. A pain in my stomach makes me frown. My heart is like being stabbed by thousands of needles, but I will not die and have to live to endure that. Oh! Because of me and my selfishness, Enzo had to leave his homeland to continue living in another world. Then he will have to do all kinds of jobs, endure cold, heat, and oppression, while I am still enjoying life here with many servants. I just want to collapse right now, but then I will be able to stand up without any harm.

    I take a scented handkerchief to wipe away my tears. I try to show as if I do not care, or am strong enough to overcome it. I smile at Thena, but immediately a flood of tears pours out. Thena steps forward to hug me. She pats my back to comfort her older sister who cries in a low voice. I am no longer strong enough to pretend. I have never been truly strong. I only pretend, and now the mask is no longer powerful enough to cling to.

    I sob, looking at Thena, explaining:

    "Thena... I''m pregnant."

    "Are you sure?" Thena looks at me in panic. She both wipes away my tears and appears anxious. "How long?"

    "I don''t know... I''m just guessing. It''s been three months since I had my period..."

    "Your husbandˇŻs?" Thena asks cautiously.

    "I''m not sure anymore..." I say in fear. "The last time with Enzo and the first time with Augustin were quite close. I''m not sure if I''m really pregnant."

    Thena lets out a cry and hugs me helplessly. She whispers in my ear:

    "Tell Augustin to take you to the doctor. Augustin is definitely the baby''s father if something happens. We won''t talk about this issue anymore, you heard me?"

    "Alrightˇ­" I nod. "Without you, I wouldn''t know what to do..."

    "Oh, my big sister..." our foreheads touch each other. "Everything will be fine. Everything will be good to go..."

    We do not know how long we have spent talking to each other that everything will be just fine. Passers-by look at us and judge us silently. I put my hand on my stomach, trying to imagine what would happen. I am not even sure if I am pregnant. Perhaps the absence of my period is just a gynaecological issue, but how can I explain the discomfort in the morning, or how I seem to gain weight? And worse, what if this baby is not Augustin''s?

    A man rides a bicycle past us, kicking up a dusty cloud. Through the haze, I discern the figure of Enzo. The whistle of a train echoes mournfully. Piles of luggage are stacked haphazardly. Couples clutch their tickets with hope, dreaming of an idyllic American future. I see him standing there, filled with regret, gazing in the direction of someone he hopes will come to see him off, but no one appearsˇ­

 Chapter 12 - The American Dream (2)

    I have yet to tell anyone about it. Yes, the fact that I "might" be pregnant. I need some clearer signs to be sure. Nowadays, medicine cannot determine whether a woman is pregnant or not if her belly is not as big as if she had eaten two large croissants at once. If I am really pregnant, things will probably be easier for me. My mother-in-law will not have to find excuses to teach me about morality and virtue. I also do not have to be intimate with my husband frequently. But I do not want to be pregnant right now, when everything with Enzo is still not settled. I cannot stop thinking about him, and now even if it was just a faint hope, God still wants to play with us.

    It is just dawn, but I do not know when I woke up. The sunlight sneaks in through the cracks in the door and touches my face. Augustin is still sleeping next to me, my husband''s snoring cannot be mistaken. We just had an intimate night together, but despite our efforts, I could not feel much. I turn to kiss his forehead, then get up to prepare for a new day. I put on a robe, but then take it off and stand in front of the mirror. I have really gained some weight, based on the fullness of my body. My breasts are also bigger and fuller. It seems that the possibility of me being pregnant is extremely high. Fear engulfs me once again. At this moment, I cannot be pregnant!

    An embrace from behind takes hold of me. Augustin has awakened at some point without my notice. His head is nestled into the crook of my neck, causing my senses to rise. Augustin is playful with me this morning, it is both sweet and suffocating. I reach behind and hold his head. Augustin bites affectionately into my neck, leaving a red bruise behind. He says it is a new trend for couples here, a form of "territorial possession". I smile gently. I have become almost hypersensitive and sensitive to everything. But I remain silent. I do not want both of our moods to turn sour if I react harshly for no reason.

    We quickly get dressed and go downstairs for breakfast. My husband''s whole family is there, waiting for the "lovebirds" to finish preparing. My mother-in-law, as usual, looks at me with a cold gaze. I have never asked her to treat me like her own daughter, I just want to be respected as I deserve. I sit down with a cheerful face. Lately, I always feel tired, so if possible, I want to avoid unexpected arguments.

    The basic morning of the British people begins with a plate of food consisting of a fried egg, two slices of toast, a lightly smoked half tomato, two sausages, and a spoonful of chicken bean soup, served with a cup of hot milk tea. Almost every breakfast is the same, sometimes with a few changes in ingredients, like yesterday when I had smoked meat instead of sausages.

    The Londoners prefer to maintain silence. They are so reticent that sometimes I forget what their voices sound like. Especially my father-in-law. Since I got married, he has mostly stayed in his office, and when he is at home, he does not bother to open his mouth. At most, he sighs a few words or agrees with my mother-in-law, otherwise, he is just like an invisible shadow lurking around the large mansion. I scan everyone''s eyes to make sure that no one cares about anyone else, and only then do I dare to speak up and take a bite of the bread.

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    The members of my husband''s family began discussing some matters, mostly related to the bank''s business, as well as gossip from the club that my mother-in-law is one of the founders of. It is a place where the women of society "discuss" "confidential" matters. I still do not understand the terms she used to describe this club, but I have a hunch that it is not a good place.

    A strange sense of coldness suddenly overwhelmed my body as I took a bite of the sausage. A familiar scent has turned into a disgusting thing that made me nauseous. I do not want to, but the smell is so terrible that I have to stop all the conversations of everyone. My father-in-law, mother-in-law, husband, Andermis, and even the servants all look at me with a strange look. I cover my mouth with my hand, trying not to vomit everything I have just eaten, and I may have even vomited last night''s meal on the table. My mother-in-law is the first to discover the situation, but only at a suspicious level, I think. When she is about to leave any comments, I have to be rude, leaving my napkin on the table and running straight to the loo to vomit. Damn it! At this point, I cannot even deny it!

    I do not lock the door, so my mother-in-law easily opens it and comes in to assess the situation. She does not speak immediately, only stands and observes. I try to vomit, but nothing comes out, as if it were a false alarm. I sit down, leaning against the wall and trying to suppress the feeling of nausea. My mother-in-law still looks at me with an emotionless gaze. She asks:

    "Have you not had your period for a while?"

    "... Two months," I softly reply.

    "And you didn''t tell us?" my mother raises her eyebrows.

    "I just thought I had a problem, that''s why I didn''t say anything..." I give a lame excuse.

    My mother-in-law says nothing for a moment, pondering. Then she snorts, which scares me. In the blink of an eye, her attitude completely changes. Instead of being harsh or judgmental, she steps forward to help me stand up and leads me back to the room. Perhaps she has sensed a pregnant woman in the house. She removes some layers of clothing from me to make me feel more comfortable and places me gently on the bed. For the first time, Mrs Rose strokes my hair, and it sends shivers down my spine. She speaks softly to me:

    "Lie down, and I will call the doctor to come and examine you."

    I can only nod slightly. Standing outside the door, I see my husband and Andermis watching silently. It is only now that I realise the important question is not "What if I am pregnant?" but rather "What if I am not?" I can see the expectant looks of everyone, including my fussy mother-in-law. It is such a curse that this is just a false alarm for their expectations! I am not sure I can handle it if I am just a normal weight-gaining woman as the doctor may say.

 Chapter 12 - The American Dream (3)

    Certainly, as expected, I am truly pregnant, and the identity of the father is still a question mark. Although time and signs have inclined me towards Augustin, part of me still hopes Enzo left me something? Am I really to blame for thinking like that? I do not know anymore, I''m just an ordinary woman. Sometimes, I just want to be selfish once, even if it means being criticised.

    I am due to give birth in September this year, and of course during this time, I am forced to stay completely indoors and limit going out as much as possible. I thought if I were pregnant, my life here would be a little easier. But it seems I made a mistake. This is just another good form covering a birdcage that I am that pitiful bird.

    My day revolves around the piano, brand new books on the shelf, and attending tea parties with my mother-in-law and members of her club. Now I am "seen" as a great achievement by my mother because I have "met the standards" with her "royal" grandchild. Needless to say, the stories they discuss are full of narrow-mindedness and I feel so frustrated. They are all elegantly dressed, well-educated, but looking at others with scrutinising and judging eyes.

    Being separated from my family is the thing I hate the most. During my pregnancy, my husband''s family did not allow me to go home to visit everyone, even though my belly was still small. I am like a soldier standing between two fronts in a civil war. Without music, I might have gone crazy and thrown myself out of the highest window of this mansion. I also have Andermis. No mistake, it is Andermis, not my husband. Augustin is also very good, I do not deny that. Every day, he buys me expensive things, like pearl necklaces, new dresses from France, and even grand music nights held in the house, just to make me happy. But I do not think so.

    Andermis brings me a different feeling: safety. He has become an "unwilling mentor" to me. Since I no longer go to school, Andermis has offered to teach me whenever he is free. He works at a small courthouse in the district. He could have advanced further and faster with his family''s wide connections, but he declined. Andermis knows that all his decisions will be entirely dependent on their voices if he accepts their help. That is why he has to fend for himself, not out of any false nobility.

    "LetˇŻs review your old lesson! Who is the subject of Roman Law?"

    Andermis'' voice resonates gently in my ear, while I am distracted looking at a butterfly fluttering outside the window. Today''s weather is hot and depressing. I''m wearing a stuffy shirt, constantly fanning myself with a handheld fan. A woman''s temper is extremely unpredictable, and it''s even worse when she is pregnant. I''m in that phase. Despite only a few months of pregnancy, I already have some discomforts.

    "Oh, Andermis... I want to flutter like that butterfly!"

    I lean on my brother-in-law unconsciously. I just feel extremely tired and unable to concentrate. Anything, no matter how small, like a piece of paper falling on the floor, or large, like flying clouds, interests me. Today''s sky is cloudy, but I still feel dizzy. Suddenly, I have many vague desires. I suddenly long for love and to be loved. Sometimes I see Enzo''s silhouette. I can imagine the movements, the collisions on both our bodies. I can smell the masculine fragrance on his body. I can touch his nose, the dry and stiff layer of his lips, and a chin with sprouting beard. I can bury my head in his neck anytime, anywhere to feel that distant warmth. Oh! I have desired too much! Oh! I am so depraved, but I cannot stop.

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    "Fiona, are you alright?"

    I can hear the hesitation in Andermis'' breath and gestures as I lean my head on his shoulder. I lift my head and gaze at him in silence, my eyes full of hidden meaning. I can see Andermis'' eyes wavering, and I know that I have drawn him into this dangerous game. No, Andermis has been involved since the very beginning; he only needed a little push. The intoxication of desire has made me reckless. And even though I am aware of my mistake, I continue nonetheless.

    To Andermis''s surprise, I move closer to him. The hormones in my body are heightened, as if I had downed a whole bottle of vodka from the USSR. Andermis keeps asking me what''s wrong and if I am okay, but I ignore his words completely. Interestingly, the closer I get, the more horrified Andermis seems, but he does not move an inch, as if he is waiting for something. Our faces are only a short distance apart. Andermis seems entranced by my eyes. It has been a while since he stopped talking and focused only on them. My hand lightly touches his lip, and I smile teasingly, reminding him that there is nobody home... Augustin and my father-in-law have gone to the bank, and my mother is at the club. Today, it is just the two of us at home, and in this study, it is just us alone.

    "Fiona..." Andermis pants. His straightforwardness has kept Andermis steady until now. "This isn''t right..."

    "Tell me..." I''m acting out of my mind, moving even closer to him, and if Andermis just lowers his head a bit, our lips will touch. "Am I still young and beautiful?"

    "Always...", Andermis nods. Our noses touch. "You are always the woman I care about..."

    "And love?" I ask softly.

    "... And love."

    "Even now?"

    "... Even now."

    I lean in and give Andermis a kiss that he may have been waiting for too long. Andermis hesitates at first, but then responds to what he desires. I myself crave a sexual desire that can satisfy me. I also want to be loved. Augustin does not give me anything but possession, while Andermis turns me into a goddess. I can feel in his every move, the worship emanating in its true sense. His hand rests on my chest and gently massages. My hands have been holding onto his neck since I do not know when. I bite my lips tightly, trying to keep the moans in my mouth. I enjoy this affair, but it is not like love. I just want to touch happiness. I just want to try to take control. I do not want sex to be just a tool for pregnancy!

    In the ecstasy, Enzo suddenly appears as a Saviour wanting to help a lost child. Enzo does not say anything. He just looks at me with disappointed eyes, despite all my efforts to run towards him. I scream, kneel and beg, but when I step forward to hug him, Enzo turns into smoke. Then I also woke up from the blindness of lust. I leave Andermis'' lips in horror, with both sides of my forehead covered in sweat. Both of us look at each other with horrified eyes. I quickly leave Andermis, lucky that we have not gone too far. I mutter to myself:

    "What have you done, Fiona?"

    Tears stream down my face. Like a guilty woman running away from her husband before he discovers her affair, I run back to my room. Andermis calls my name behind me, but I am too ashamed to turn back. What was I thinking after all?

 Chapter 12 - The American Dream (4)

    I am seated on the window ledge, my head leaning against the glass. I am silently lost in the sounds of nature. Outside, the servants are frolicking with each other. Peter the Chauffeur is clearly in love with Josephine, but she does not notice. I smile as I watch the stocky young man trying to make the maid laugh with an Irish Riverdance jig. Suddenly, I feel sorry for him. For I know that Josephine has a soft spot for the footman Landon, and Jos is not the kind of woman who would settle for a peaceful life in a remote Irish countryside.

    I sigh, feeling sorry for the young couple and for myself. Am I any different from Josephine when I gave up Enzo? I do not know if I left him to help my family through hard times or if it was a noble reason, a self-forgiveness for my own selfishness and greed. I was too blind to see my true self. And now, the one in pain is not only him, but also me, in the very game that I set up for myself.

    ˇ°Five coins that Peter and Josephine will belong to each other.ˇ±

    I look up to see Andermis. We have not looked at each other since that shameful incident three days ago. I sit up to make room for Andermis to sit down. I should be the one to apologise, but I am too shy to speak. I am truly grateful that Andermis did not mention the incident again, which makes me feel relieved. I turn back to observe the two of them, and in response to his words, I say:

    ˇ°Ten coins that Josephine will break Peter''s heart to pieces.ˇ±

    ˇ°Hmm, I don''t think so!ˇ± Andermis disagrees. ˇ°Do you have something against Josephine?ˇ±

    ˇ°No...ˇ± I shake my head. ˇ°She just reminds me of someone. She has made some wrong decisions too.ˇ±

    ˇ°How do you know Josephine will make the same mistake?ˇ±

    Andermis looks at me with confident eyes, making me feel less miserable. He takes a deep breath as if to gather more energy to make a statement. He turns to look at me. It is only then that I notice the sadness in his eyes. I can imagine that what he is about to say is a horror to him, a pain that Andermis just wants to forget forever. And now, because of me, he has to speak up.

    "Everyone makes mistakes. And mistakes, even if they destroy someone''s life, are what make them mature."

    Without me asking, Andermis takes out a worn-out pocket watch from his pocket. He hands it to me, his face full of emotion. I guess that when opened, underneath the lid is a picture of someone closely related to him. As I thought, the portrait of a dark-skinned woman appears before my eyes, hauntingly beautiful. It is just a picture of her upper part, but the fact that she was not wearing anything and the angle of her face immediately leaves me stunned. I look up at Andermis, but he only dares to look elsewhere. I ask softly:

    "Who is this woman?"

    Andermis does not answer right away. For the first time in my life, I see Andermis shed tears. This strong man also has moments of weakness that he never expected. I tightly hold his hand as if to give him more strength. After a while, he is calm enough to answer. Andermis wipes his tears and sniffs into his nose. He replies gently:

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    "Satine... Satine Seydoux."

    "Your girlfriend?" I ask.

    "My wife..."

    I pause for a moment. I did not know that Andermis had been married before. At this moment, I suddenly remember his argument with my mother-in-law. It is very likely that the person she mentioned is this Satine.

    "Where is she now?" I return the watch to him. Andermis immediately puts it back in his pocket.

    "She passed away two years ago..." he recounts with effort. "From tuberculosis..."

    "Tell me about your wife..." I gently plead. "I want to know about your woman."

    "I went to study in France when I was 16 years old. A few years later, I met Satine in a nightclub. She was the lead singer in the troupe. I was 18 at the time, and Satine was two years older than me. Since then, I''ve been listening to her sing every day. I don''t know when I fell in love with her. We started our relationship shortly after. I wanted to marry her..."

    ˇ°But...?" He stops, leaving me with many thoughts.

    "I took Satine to meet my parents. Of course, they didn''t agree to accept Satine, because she has no background, and she is also a person of colour. She is not a slave, she is French, but her skin colour has stolen her identity. I accepted losing everything, including the inheritance of the Morten family, just to get married. We swore to be together forever...ˇ± Andermis pauses in sadness.

    I sit silently, listening to him tell the story. Somehow, I recognise Satine in myself.

    "We chose the church, and on that fateful day, we would elope. But my mother took a step ahead. She gave Satine two choices: marry me and live a poor life, or take 200,000 pounds and go back to France. That day, I stood at the church with the vicar, waiting for six hours. My mother won, as always..."

    "Maybe Satine had another reason..." I say.

    "I don''t blame her. Regardless of whether she had a reason or not, I don''t blame her. Reality is not like what we dream of. Poverty is a poison to love. Marrying me then only made us bored with each other early on."

    We both pause to reflect for a moment. I let go of Andermis'' hand, then turn to look out into the yard. Josaphine is hugging Peter, and they exchange a light kiss. Why do I feel relieved when I am the one who is wrong? I suddenly remember Andermis'' words, and it raises a question within me.

    "So who made the wrong decision?"

    "Both of us," Andermis asserts. "Satine clearly made a mistake by betraying my love. At the same time, I made a mistake by not being able to prove myself strong enough for that marriage."

    Andermis immediately stands up without waiting for me to fully understand the meaning of his words. He clearly gives me a long night to think. Before leaving, he says something that makes me stunned, but also warms my heart.

    "I left that moustache for Satine. She said that''s what makes me a Frenchman."

    Andermis departs immediately after his statement. I stretch out my legs and silently watch his figure disappear until it fades away. It takes a while for me to comprehend, and I burst into laughter. I told him that his moustache looked truly hilarious, and right after that, he promptly trimmed it away.

 Chapter 13 - The Midnight Harpsichord (1)

    April 1912, Aries House

    In my fifth month of pregnancy, my temperament has become increasingly difficult. The relationship between Augustin and me has also become strained by endless arguments. Augustin never cares too deeply about anything, and that is the biggest difference between us. Our arguments are actually quite dull, and sometimes I do not even understand why they happen. Only recently, two days ago, feeling bored, I took a walk in the garden. Alone. Augustin could not find me and became angry. He unloaded all his worries and annoyances on me. I did not feel like I was the subject of that worry, but rather my unborn child. When pregnant, who cares about the mother anyway?

    I sit at the dressing table, absent-mindedly combing my hair. The curly brown hair of the noblewomen looks extremely dull. Augustin walks into the room, and I do not bother to look up. We have not spoken to each other for two days, even though we still sleep in the same bed. I can smell the brandy on his breath. I keep combing my hair and don''t care.

    Augustin walks towards me quietly. Then he kneels down, hugging me from behind. His face buries in my back, rubbing like a small animal. His arms hold me tightly, as if a shackle does not let me escape. I can hear a low growl in his throat. Augustin speaks while he''s drunk:

    "I''m sorry..."

    "You apologise too much," I reply angrily . "I don''t know if I should believe you."

    "I shouldn''t have been angry with you," Augustin completely ignored my words. It seems he is too drunk to listen.

    I want to say something else, but I think better of it. This is not the first time he has apologised, and of course, it will not be the last. I sigh and turn to look at him. Augustin lies with his head on my thigh. His breath is heavy, blowing straight into my maternity dress, making it rise and fall. I stroke his head like a mother caressing her child. Then I bend down and kiss him on the forehead. I lift him up and walk him to bed, as if he were a child. He falls asleep quickly, snoring softly. I sit on the edge of the bed, watching him sleep. I feel like I am not just looking at my husband, but also a child who needs protection.

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    I bow down and place a kiss upon his forehead. Lifting his face, I whisper softly, "It''s time for bed." I try to guide him back to the bed, thankfully Augustin cooperates, or else I would not be able to support him alone. But then he refuses to sleep. Augustin suddenly acts coy with me. He wants to lie on my lap, to be petted like a child. I do not know what my husband has encountered outside, and I cannot refuse a legitimate request from my husband. After all, I am a wife, and I must comply. I allow him to rest on my lap and pet him. I close my eyes and imagine my husband as Satine, our old cat. Things are easier that way.

    After a while, I open my eyes, feeling a hand groping my chest. Augustin ignores my gaze and continues to knead them. I feel uneasy and call him repeatedly, but my husband does not seem to care. Then he sits up, his hot and heavy breaths brushing against my face. Augustin looks eager, his lips press against mine forcefully, with a hint of drunkenness. It takes him a while to let go, but his hands still can''t leave my chest. Feeling uncomfortable, I grab his hand tightly and warn him,

    "Please, the baby?"

    "I only want your breasts, don''t worry," he replies.

    At this moment, I begin to feel concerned about what my husband has gone through today. I cannot resist his control. Augustin tears off the top of my dress, immediately revealing two breasts round and taut as those of a pregnant woman. Augustin looks at me for a moment as if checking my attitude, but clearly he does not care if I frown uncomfortably. His hand gently squeezes it, and a white spot suddenly appears at the tip of my breast. Colostrum, I think. My husband smiles lightly, then bends down to suckle it. My body produces milk for the unborn child, but now I use it to feed my husband. I do not know how I feel. My mind suddenly becomes both empty and blurry. My husband is resting his head on my lap, his mouth gnawing at the milk. I sit there, holding his hand, with red eyes since when.

 Chapter 13 - The Midnight Harpsichord (2)

    On April 14th, 1912, at Aries House.

    My husband and I were born on the same day, only two months apart, it is quite a coincidence. Of course, the birthday of the Morten family heir must be celebrated extravagantly, especially now that he has solidified his position since I became pregnant, it is a deserving moment to celebrate!

    I quickly apologised to the crowded guests downstairs and retreated to my room, with an excuse that cannot be questioned: the baby in my belly said so. It was also pitiful for me, as I have tried to fulfil my duties as a wife. I have been downstairs greeting guests for hours, nodding in thanks as they placed their hands on my belly, with polite and sometimes silly greetings. I even had to wear a mask to judge alongside the London society ladies as we discussed the men and women in this room. I have struggled to hold on until now, but have reached my limit. I sought refuge in the peace of my room, which is another form of a locked cage.

    I turn on the music player, listening to the melodies of my favourite love songs. Living with Thena, I also learned the habit of writing. Since I got married, I started writing a "prison diary" and completing the rest of the book that Thena dedicated to me and Enzo. If I could not have him in real life, we would live together until the end of the world in these pages.

    I started this from the early days of setting foot in the huge Villa Aries. I prepared a new, thick and fragrant paper notebook. I jot down the favourite parts of Thena''s original work, adding my own feelings, memories, and secrets that we both have. I even used our names for the main characters. I do not want to use any fake names. I want it to be a world where we can be happy together. I write about things I missed in this life. There, we still have the estate, my father is still sitting diligently at the desk, and I have never met any of the Morten brothers.

    The gloom envelops the entire room, which is adorned with expensive furnishings: expensive floral curtains, exquisite fine China, the scent of polished wood emanating from the desk, and dresses that have yet to be unlabeled. Tears fall in drops on the paper, blurring the hastily written lines. Why do I feel so bitter as I write about the time I walked into the church with my father, with the man standing at the end of the church being him? Why do I not feel relieved even though that is what I desire? I only feel jealous of what I have imagined. I am shattered into countless pieces of broken glass, living with a soul that has died halfway. I collapse with a longing for something impossible.

    I cry without making a sound. My gaze drifts to a faraway place. Suddenly, I hear the sound of waves crashing into the ship. Enzo has gone far awayˇ­ So far away from meˇ­

    <hr>

    I do not know when I fell asleep. The child in my belly drains all the little energy I have. I wake up with a pounding headache. I am so tired that I have no memory of what could have happened while I was sleeping. I can''t even remember if I closed the book or not. I look up at the clock, it is now pointing to four. I decide that I will go down and greet the guests with my husband. I have been away for a long time and cannot stay here for the entire party, or people will suspect something. At least now the guests have thinned out, and it is now time for afternoon tea, so I think everything will be easier. Determined, I put the book in my own drawer and lock it tightly. I ask Anna to help me change into a new dress. I choose a light yellow dress and a simple set of jewellery. Today is my husband''s party, he should be the centre of attention. I also have no intention of stealing the spotlight, even on my birthday, I did not even get a supporting role.

    My husband and his friends are sitting around a round table in the study, where gentlemen usually chat with each other. The smell of brandy is still strong, and the smell of cigars is still lingering in the room, full of business and political discussions. I walk in like any other lady of a sprawling estate, with a smile always on my lips and a plate of fresh pastries for the gentlemen. I cannot remember anyone''s name in the room, even though Augustin has introduced them to me many times. Because everyone looks the same: hair slicked back, tailcoat, white shirt, black bow tie, gold signet ring on the little finger, and always puffing on a cigar. They are so engrossed in the conversation that they do not even notice when I arrive. It is not until I clap my hands and join the conversation that they finally stop and look at me:

    "May I join you, gentlemen?"

    Everyone stands up when I approach, it is one of the gentlemen''s gestures when a lady enters the room. Only my husband does not stand up, he just turns to me and smiles lightly. I walk over, bow and place a kiss on my husband''s lips as if to show affection in front of everyone. But suddenly, I sense a change in Augustin''s attitude. His kiss for me is very strange, very faint. And his smile is also only for show. In a moment, both of us realise our awkwardness. I do not understand what happened, I just think he had an unpleasant experience at the party.

    I turn to smile at everyone and place the cake plate on the table. I plan to just do that and leave the room, I have nothing to discuss with these men. But Augustin grabs my hand tightly as I leave and says, "If you''re here, sit with me."

    "I''m just afraid of boring everyone," I say softly.

    "No," Augustin replies straightforwardly. "Stay with us."

    I turn to look at everyone''s faces, and everyone wants me to stay, or it is just a pretence. I do not know why Augustin appears so strange. Anyway, I reluctantly participate in their conversation. I will keep my mouth shut and not say anything unless they talk to me.

    I sit on the same chair with Augustin, his hand draped behind me. At least they know how to behave like real gentlemen. The cigars were put out when I entered the room. Augustin turns to look at me, his hand stroking the hair on the side of my ear. The man sitting across from me, Mr. Harry, picks up a brandy glass and takes a sip, then starts talking to me, "I hear that Lady Fiona is very knowledgeable about music."

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    "Oh, not exactly," I smile and pick up my wine glass from the table. "I can only dare say that I''ve been exposed to music from a very early age. You know, every girl with our upbringing must learn those things."

    "My wife can play any music piece," my husband embraces me tightly like a cage. "She is my treasure."

    I laugh lightly, feeling his increasing discomfort. I am confused if I am the source of this unease. But if it is because of me, then I do not know what I did wrong.

    "Do you prefer Mozart''s music, may I ask?"

    "Oh, Wolfgang?" I raise my eyebrows. "Simple yet complicated, elegant yet straightforward. But I''m not sure if his music is what I like. On the contrary, I lean towards Antonio more."

    "Antonio Salieri?" Mr. Mordok confirms. "Mozart''s rival?"

    "There are rumours that he poisoned Mozart out of envy," Mr. Burbery speaks while sipping his wine.

    "I believe they respected each other, sir," I politely deny his statement. "They were rivals, yes, but I believe they did not intend to destroy each other. Salieri had what he wanted long before Mozart became famous."

    "IˇŻve read that their rivalry became evident when Mozart lost a competition in Sch?nbrunn in 1786," Mr. Andre takes out a cigarette but quickly puts it back inside.

    I put down my wine glass and say, "I believe feeling bad after failing at something is understandable and common, regardless of whether the result is worthy or not. The past is full of mysteries. Salieri and Mozart used to collaborate in composing together, and in one of Mozart''s last surviving letters, he mentioned going to see his own opera, ''The Magic Flute,'' with Salieri, and Salieri was entranced throughout the performance."

    I bend down to pick up a cookie from the table and savour it while the men nod in approval. Mr. Burbery sits back in his chair, brandy glass in hand, and laughs:

    "Well, my lady, you make me feel threatened!"

    "We should have more discussions like this," Mr. Harry nods.

    "I just have too much free time to read books, gentlemen."

    "And to write too...", Augustin looks at me with an enigmatic expression. "And to write, too."

    Augustin repeats the same sentence twice, and his gaze is fixed on me like a hunter aiming at a helpless prey. I am sitting in his arms, with his hand tightly gripping my shoulder. Augustin knows something, and now I am sure that I am somehow involved in this change of attitude. Mr. Andre is surprised:

    "Lady Fiona writes books?"

    "I don''t think so, Mr. Andre," I reluctantly reply. "I just scribbled down some impressions about this or that book. My sister, Thena, is the family''s writer."

    "My wife is very secretive about her talents. She''s just being humble," Augustin chuckles softly. "I hope I don''t play the villain in her story. Fiona never reveals anything to me."

    "Are you drunk, my love?" I try to salvage the situation before we both embarrass ourselves. "Do you want a cup of tea?"

    "No, my dear wife, I''m not drunk," my husband brushes off what I said. "But sitting too much might have made me a bit dizzy..."

    Then he turns to his friends, takes out a cigar and a lighter, and asks:

    "Billiards, gents?"

    <hr>

    I rush up to my room, feverishly checking my things. Augustin must have found something of mine, and that is not good for me at all. The relationship between Enzo and me is not widely known, but I cannot hide it from my husband. In the letter I sent him that day, I told him about my relationship with Enzo and whether he still wanted to keep his proposal. Therefore, it would be illogical for my husband to get angry about something that is long over and that I never mention again. I would feel guilty if Augustin could hear my heart that I had been unfaithful to him, but that clearly never happened.

    As I feel something is amiss, I open the book I am writing. I check each page, but I do not see anything unusual. I step out of the room and ask Anna for the reason. Being pregnant makes my mind confused and disorderly. I cannot think straight about anything. My marriage is more damaged than ever, and whether I want to or not, I have to keep this shackle.

    "Did anyone come up to find me today?"

    "I don''t know, my lady," Anna carries a tray of tea and cake.

    "Have both of you been entertaining guests all day?" I ask aggressively. My forehead is dripping with sweat.

    "It seems so, my lady."

    "What do you mean, you have to be sure?" I scream, instantly making the maid jump. I am not the type to get angry with others. But the vagueness makes me uncomfortable. I want to know what finally happened.

    "I really don''t know...," Anna hesitates a bit. "But before Your Ladyship went downstairs, I saw master Augustin standing at the end of the stairs with an angry look on his face."

    Standing at the stairs, my husband must have left my room and maybe it was he who closed my book. I let Anna go outside and I sit idly on the warm bed. Suddenly, strangely, I do not feel completely worried. A small part of me is relieved that my husband has recognised my affection. That he had disregarded marrying a disloyal woman, a cheap whore who slept with every man she met. Surprisingly, I feel just relieved that he finally realised that. But why?

 Chapter 13 - The Midnight Harpsichord (3)

    I apologised to everyone that I was feeling unwell, and would like to have my meal in the room. I have not set foot downstairs, not even half a step. I stand by the window, looking towards the distance, where columns of smoke are rising outside. It makes me think of Enzo boarding a ship to a faraway place. Perhaps, in the smoke outside, his figure is standing on the deck, with the wind blowing, his hair blowing back. Enzo thinks of me as the waves under the boat gradually become unfamiliar. The cold Atlantic water seeps through his skin, like his heart has grown cold.

    Suddenly tonight, I am not sleepy at all. My eyes open in confusion, without knowing why. I walk through the empty room that Augustin decorated for our child. He even had someone bring up the harpsichord for me so that I would not have to go up and down the stairs every time I felt like playing. The room is not entirely soundproof, but outside, only a few faint sounds can be heard. I look up at the clock. It is eleven thirty-nine at night, and though it is late, I still want to play a few pieces to relieve my tired body. Now I am of great value to the family; they probably will not blame a pregnant woman who is just trying to clear her mind. Besides, I am sure they will not go to bed until the last bottle of brandy in the house is empty.

    I play Beethoven''s Moonlight Sonata, even though the original name is not that. It is strange that I want to play this piece even though there is no moon or star in the sky outside. I can imagine Enzo standing on the ship''s deck, chasing the lofty moon that casts its shadow on the calm sea. I want to become the soft waves, embracing the sleeping ship that he is on. It hurt me deeply to see him leave England, to leave me, but I will be at ease and happy to see him pursue a new life in the United States. The American dream will lead him to pursue his dreams and aspirations. If I had a carrier pigeon right now, I hope these words will find him. That if there is another life, if he still desires me, I will find him, even if it were in the farthest corner of the world. And God please, even in the wildest dream, I would still be the ever-since Fiona Lamstrong, a girl that he once loved.

    The applause makes me stop playing the piano immediately. I turn around and see my husband with an unhappy but not-sad expression, and cheeks flushed with alcohol. He staggers to find a place to sit down. I try to stand up to support him as he is about to fall, but Augustin raises his hand to signal me to stay put. He sits down heavily, breathing heavily with thoughts swirling inside. We maintain eye contact like that for a while, until the awkwardness fills the entire room. I stand up, approach him and say, "Let me take you to the room..."

    "Play the piano for me, Fiona."

    I pause, looking at Augustin with incredulous eyes. My husband has never been someone who enjoys art, nor has he ever made such a request. I decide to ignore my husband''s words and plead with him to go back to the room. Only sleep can make my husband forget his troubles. But it seems I misjudged the situation. Now, nothing can make him forget that betrayal.

    "Can''t you play something for your husband to hear?"

    Augustin''s innocent-looking eyes, as if he did not know what was going on, make me certain that this game is over. In just one day, I have become too small compared to him. I cannot find any legitimate reason to show my disagreement. Ethics and morality tie me down and make me kneel. I smile faintly and ask, "What do you want to hear?"

    "Any piece...," Augustin replies gently. "As long as it''s you playing sincerely for me, any piece will be a masterpiece."

    How is it that a man who only talks about business and politics can make me feel so weak with just ordinary words? I take a deep breath. My stomach feels a little queasy, as if the baby is kicking. I turn back to the piano and try to find a suitable piece of music for this situation. I want something classical, with a melody that contains a lot of feelings and affection, a piece that my husband wouldn''t understand too much.

    I decide to play Fur Elise, also by Beethoven. This poor man, famous all over the world, but he never won her heart in his life. There are many debates about who Elise that Beethoven is referring to. Who is the subject of his affection? Things can be complicated and clear to the extent that no one ever thought of. I believe in the hypothesis that there is no Elise in Beethoven''s mind. His muse was Theresa, the woman who refused Ludwig''s proposal, but also the woman he could never forget. Because, in his time, Elise also meant a lover.

    "Tell me... Fiona..."

    I stop playing the keys to be able to hear the low and dense voice, now mixed with the heaviness of alcohol. I turn around to look, Augustin is staring at me with a heavy face. I can see those eyes shimmering with tears. I hold my breath to listen to what he will say next. Will he expose me? Will he slap me in the face? I do not know anymore. Suddenly, in this moment, I feel sorry for him.

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    "Do you love me? Have you ever loved me during all this time?"

    Can I answer his question? Even I myself do not know. Have I loved Augustin, during all this time, do I have any feelings for him? I have been too busy with my desires. Facing Augustin now, I feel like I am standing in the court of justice, condemned by the chaos and violence of faith. I intended to answer his question, but Augustin seems to know that I will continue to lie. He did not plan to stop until I was pushed to the brink:

    "You''ve never loved me, have you?"

    "Augustin...", I bow my head down.

    "Do you dare to look straight at me and declare that you love me, Fiona? Speak up, do you dare?", Augustin''s heavy voice makes me both scared and ashamed.

    "You''re drunk, Augus..."

    Unexpectedly, Augustin steps forward and grabs my chin. He pushes me against the piano tree. I am terrified looking at him, but even more horrified when I see his tearful face. I can feel his pain through that trembling. I try to push him away, but I am not strong enough to do it. Augustin looks at me full of hatred. The gnawing pain has turned him into another person. No, into his true self.

    "How could you share a bed with your husband while always thinking about another man? How could you treat me like that?"

    I use all my strength to leave his arms, but Augustin is too strong for a pregnant woman like me. Suddenly, my belly hurts intensely, as if the baby also wants to chase away its father. Augustin holds my chin tightly, making me unable to say anything. I look at him with fearful eyes. This is the first time in our time living together that Augustin has hurt me. In a moment, I no longer recognise the man I married. Is it because of him, or have I created this monster?

    "Everything you want, I all tried my best to give it to you. Everything you need, I provided it for you. Have I ever let you down? Have I ever treated you badly? Fiona, tell me!"

    But how can I speak? He is gripping my chin tightly, and now even breathing is difficult for me. I scratch, claw, punch, and push, but there is nothing that can save me at this moment. I am scared, I am very afraid of Augustin right now. He has turned me into a little girl with only a few years of age and I cry when I see the freaks in the circus for the first time.

    "I always try to be a good husband to you. I swear I''ve never stopped trying to love you, cherish you. But what do I get in return? Fiona, you''ve never loved me! You don''t even want to meet me ever!"

    Now I am clear and certain, Augustin has read the unfinished novel I wrote. My tears mix with Augustin''s angry tears falling heavily on my face. Both of us are hurt, and although I am very frightened, I cannot blame Augustin for anything. I have no right to blame him because I have ideas that are not loyal and corrode my morality. On the contrary, I blame fate and myself. I curse myself for the bad decisions I have made. The person I press on the keys creates ear-piercing sounds. It seems like I am the ugly note in the harmony of those who care about me.

    Finally, Augustin leaves me alone, and I sit on the chair and lean back on the guitar, while he turns his back to me. My body is exhausted, and my mind is dazed. I know the baby is struggling, but then I do not feel anything. I cannot even feel my legs, let alone speak. All the strength in my body suddenly disappears completely. I look up at Augustin, but all I see is his back. The trembling on his body, the intermittent sound full of emotions like a nightmare clinging to me. If this marriage had not happened, we would all be very happy. Augustin, Andermis, Enzo; and I, the woman who has a debt of fate with all three men who love her so deeply.

    My husband did say something, but I couldn''t hear him. My mind is in chaos. I hear shattering sounds, screams, and the sound of rushing water. I feel the cold enveloping me. A cold that goes deep into my soul. I feel like a shipwrecked sailor lost at sea, struggling in the midst of souls in purgatory. I cannot breathe, and I am about to sink into that violent whirlpool. No one will save me. No one...

    Suddenly Augustin''s face becomes blurry before me. I see more than just him. I see three "Augustins" all looking at me in panic. I bury my head in his chest, unaware that my entire body is soaked in fresh blood. I hear my husband''s heart beating rapidly, as if should I leave him, the door to his heart will open and it will jump out. Augustin picks me up, while I can no longer feel any part of my body. I lie down, looking up at the ceiling with two eyes. The haziness and dizziness in my eyes make the scene suddenly more beautiful and magnificent than ever before. I come from noble blood, but I have never been one of them. And at this very moment, the feeling of an emperor embraces me. I feel like Jane Grey, a martyr queen who reigned for only nine days. Today is her last day of life. Jane Grey was taken to Tower Green and executed in silence. I feel like her. The sound of crashing waves, people''s cries, and the sight of blurry eyes through a veil of smoke and water. In that moment of uncertainty, I see Enzo...

 Chapter 14 - Shearing Sheep (1)

    June 1912, Aries House.

    I stand in front of the door, on a smooth stone floor, watching the servants pack our luggage onto the carriage, and my husband observing them. I stand there silently like a stranger, dressed entirely in black from head to toe. My parents-in-law are also standing beside me, but they are clearly keeping their distance from me. I know this, but I also have no desire to be close to them. Andermis is behind me, looking at me with pity in his eyes, but that is the last thing I want to receive. My face has been like this for two months, completely devoid of joy, anger, love, or hate. I even gave up my studies. Now, there is nothing that can excite me anymore. I have become a human puppet. This body still exists, but what is inside has become completely empty.

    Augustin walks towards me, smiling and says: "The luggage is all done, we shall go now!" I nod slightly in agreement. I walk over to where my parents-in-law are standing and hug them. Everyone seems to be very gentle with me, even my spiteful mother-in-law. She kisses me on the cheek, although I can smell the taste of insincerity and restraint in it. Andermis also steps forward to greet me. We hug each other. Perhaps that is the most genuine thing I can embrace today. We communicate only through our eyes, and I am extremely grateful when Andermis tries to share his pain with me.

    I link arms with Augustin and we walk towards the car which is ready to go. Augustin opens the door for me to step in, and of course, he sits next to me. Now, I have the opportunity to clearly admire this large house. It turns out that my house has a bright red roof and light yellow walls with vines that make it look very ancient. When I first came here, I saw it with my own eyes, but only now do I see it as beautiful. Perhaps that is the difference between coming and going. Last time, the car brought me here, and this time it takes me away. After so many months, I finally can return to my home.

    I slump my head against the car window, ignoring the jolting of the wheels as my head bounces against it. Augustin reaches out to embrace me, but I hold his arm back. I am not looking for peace or sweetness. I need something bold and painful to wake me up. I know Augustin is looking at me with a tired expression, and he is trying very hard to control himself, but nothing is helpful right now. My gaze is blank, looking at the scenery around me retreating behind. My finger clings to the pearl necklace around my neck. Tiny and warm, I seem to be able to feel the wrinkled and reddish skin of my daughter. Tears run down my cheeks, even though my face does not show any pain. What does the dead know about pain?

    I named the little girl Elizabeth, a traditional but appropriate name. How many outstanding women in England have the name Elizabeth, and I always hope this baby will grow up with so many expectations. But I did not know, I could only hold her for twenty-six minutes. Exactly twenty-six minutes, and everyone took the baby away from me forever.

    Elizabeth was just a little bigger than my hand, and only weighed a little more than a black bean. Her skin was pink and wrinkled as if she were always frowning. But Elise was incredibly beautiful in my eyes. I cried with happiness watching my child that I was carrying for months. Elise inherited the pure beauty of her aunt Diana, the clever lips of Aunt Thena, and Uncle David''s high nose. There was no greater love than the love I had for this baby. Watching her fussing and crying sounds just like the sound of a piano. Perhaps only mothers could compare like that. I love every level of her cries, I love when those small little fingers hit my hand and my chest. Oh Elizabeth, mother loves, loves you indescribably!

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    But then the worst thing happened. Twenty-six minutes later, the little girl stopped crying, to the astonishment of everyone in the room. My in-laws, my husband, Andermis, the old doctor, and all the servants looked at me with dejected eyes. I was silent for a moment. I did not know what to do. I thought Elise was tired from hunger. I was sure of it. I immediately pulled down my dress, revealing my breasts that had been leaking milk since who knows when. I whispered to my little daughter, constantly calling her name, hoping to make her uncomfortable and cry again. My mouth was smiling, but tears were falling for no reason. I placed the baby''s head next to my breast, but Elise did not show any movement. She was motionless like a doll. Her warmth gradually faded and became stiff. It was only then that I accepted that my little Elizabeth had died. Five months were not long enough for her to survive in this life. I looked at my husband, and his haunting head shake made me lose my composure. My face contracted. I screamed with all my last strength. I cried and begged God to have mercy and give Elizabeth back to me. But does the divine ever respond? I cried out at fate! The biggest punishment a mother can receive is to lose her child right in her arms. I had Elise right in my hands. I hugged her, kissed her, and tried to breastfeed her for the first time. But after only twenty-six minutes of life, Death took her away... He had taken Elizabeth away from me!

    There was nothing more painful than burying your newborn child with your own hands, but I still desperately begged to do it. I lost my child, and God would curse me if I left her before she rested in the ground forever. I, myself, the mother who cradled Elizabeth during the short time, had to do it. I wrapped my little one in a knitted blanket that I had made for her, neat and pretty like a bouquet of white lilies. My baby''s head leaned to one side, with its tiny hands placed on the bow that I tied around the blanket. Elizabeth as if wrinkled her nose, and her wide-open mouth calling out "Mommy" making it even harder for me. Augustin locked himself in the room all day, and even though we were separated by a wall, I could still hear his cries of grief. Andermis helped me bid farewell to the baby for the last time. He lifted Elizabeth''s chin and made its lips touch each other. He even placed a gentle smile on those lips. But no matter what, my heart shattered when I saw that my child had become nothing but a cold and lifeless body. I was even more devastated when I realised that the baby had lived long enough to develop fully, but I could not keep her alive long enough to exist.

    Tears roll down my cheeks, wetting the black dress I am wearing. The carriage stops, I sniffle as tears run into my nose, despite Augustin handing me a handkerchief smelling of soap. The driver steps down to open the door for me. Finally, after more than half a year since I got married, I have returned to the beloved house where I grew up with so many memories. Andermis thought that being able to come back with family would help me feel better. I am not sure if I can overcome this pain, but that will surely help me stop obsessing over it. Losing Elizabeth has made me lose all the motivation to live that I already had so little of. Now, this flickering life can only rely on those who always love me unconditionally. I wish I had never had to leave this place, but it is all just a wishˇ­

 Chapter 14 - Shearing Sheep (2)

    In July 1912, at Drevolre Manor,

    The sound of the old shepherd''s horn echoes like a song, immediately waking up Belly, a Belgian sheepdog with coffee-coloured fur. Belly is lying on her back for me to massage her, and she then runs towards Rhoten as soon as he blows the horn. I stand up, take off my hat and chuckle as I see Belly jump up onto Rhoten. It has been a long time since I have felt this happy.

    Rhoten is the young man responsible for our farm''s livestock. He is from Ireland, with a charming and honest accent, which sometimes makes it difficult for me to understand him. But Rhoten is an honest and straightforward man who always tries to make me feel comfortable. He was also the one who made me step out of the house for the first time with a challenge.

    Rhoten noticed that every morning and afternoon, I stood on the balcony, looking at a certain corner. Once when we were herding the sheep into the pen, one sheep was being stubborn and would not budge. I gave Rhoten a rather unpleasant look, thinking it was because of my bad mood at the time, and everything seemed irritating to me. I can easily get angry when my tea is too hot, too cold, or not sweet enough. But Rhoten bravely challenged me to help him control this sheep, and in a moment of weakness, I walked towards him and the sheep. And something remarkable happened, the sheep walked into the pen before my and Rhoten''s surprise.

    I have lived in darkness for too long to realise that the sun still rises outside. Watching the white sheep grazing on the meadow and Belly jumping over them from time to time, the wind blowing and the smell of the grassland, it feels just like the old days. Maybe it is time for me to face myself and let go of these pains. Without Rhoten''s challenge, maybe I would have forgotten that I still exist.

    Today I have an appointment with Rhoten to shear the sheep. Neither my family nor my husband prohibits me from doing so, even though it is not a ladylike activity. But now who dares to contradict me? Now I will do things that I have never dared to do. I will live beyond the restrictions and prejudices that this society has placed upon me. Life has taken away but also taught me many things, that I will not waste any more opportunities. My past is dead, and now I will try my best in the present. I will go with Rhoten to shear sheep, and I am sure I will do it perfectly. And please do not misunderstand, Rhoten and I will not have anything going on. I have had enough involvement with men, and I will never be attached to anyone else again. Besides, Rhoten does not like me either. He already has someone in his dreams.

    Rhoten lets me stand on the side and observe the process. He and another young man - Andy, flip the pitiful sheep over. Andy holds it tight, sometimes even sings a lullaby to calm the sheep down. Rhoten draws a line on its thick wool, puts his finger in to measure the thickness of the wool and chooses the appropriate shears. I watch attentively as Rhoten begins to cut the sheep''s wool. He starts from the shortest part below the belly, then gradually moves to thicker and deeper areas. I step closer, then sit down beside him. I do not want to miss any details. Rhoten makes a cut, a patch of wool falls off. I hold the soft pile like cotton, unable to resist squeezing it to feel its elasticity. My eyes shine brightly like streetlights. Rhoten then hands me the shears. At first, I hesitated and didn''t know what to do, but then Rhoten looks at me and nods confidently. I take a deep breath and hold the shears up, making the first cut.

    <hr>

    "If it weren''t for you, I wouldn''t have found this so interesting!" I say, taking off my gloves and walking with Rhoten along the dirt road with Belly walking between us. The afternoon sun slants through the broad trees, creating bright streaks on the ground like ribbons. I stop and take a deep breath of the fresh country air of England. It has been a long time since I have felt this freshness and vitality. A breeze blows by, carrying the scent of grass that always makes people remember with endless affection. Suddenly, I remember the days of chasing with Enzo on this road. The memories still linger on both sides of my nose.

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    "My lady, all you have to do is open your heart to new things, and you will see that this life is worth every breath," Rhoten nods at me.

    "You are...", surprisingly I look at him and express.

    "Dreamy, right?" Rhoten laughs.

    "Worth noticing," I say. A gust of wind rustles my headscarf. "Thank you, Rhoten."

    "For what, my lady?" He looks at me in surprise.

    I stop and look around at the scenery. Rolling hills, green meadows dotted with a few white flowers, and a herd of sheep grazing lazily. The pain inside me is slowly healing. I will never forget Elizabeth, but I will no longer suffer. I think Elizabeth would not want to see her mother immersed in grief. Perhaps I am ready to move on.

    I look at Rhoten with eyes full of affection, with the light of hope shining brightly. I gently reply, "For helping me know that I still exist."

    Both of us look at each other and burst into laughter. We continue walking along the long road home. Autumn has arrived, and the yellow leaves quietly begin to fall. We stop at a moment when we see Diana sitting outside drawing. I do not know when the little girl started painting again, but I am sure that Diana, like me, believes that all pain will eventually fade away and no longer be felt. I have also gradually accepted the fact that Enzo has left me for good and I have told myself that I will be happy again and pleased if he finds his worthy half. Perhaps the love story between the young lady and the housekeeper will forever be just a beautiful fairy tale.

    Suddenly, I see myself and Enzo in Rhoten''s longing gaze towards Diana. My heart flutters. A feeling of both fear and warmth surrounds me. A sharp gust of wind brushes past my face. I sacrificed my own happiness to do the impossible, and if it were to happen again in this family and I could not prevent it, I would bite my tongue to death. I slowly observe Rhoten''s happy face when he sees my sister, as well as his concern about the social distance between the two. I can say that those are the eyes of a lovesick person, the eyes that I was once given. I wave my hand at Rhoten, waking him up from his daydream. He thought I would be angry when I discovered him gazing longingly at the noble young lady. On the contrary, I became his "ally."

    "If you like someone, be brave and speak up. Pursue them boldly and never be afraid."

    At first, Rhoten looks at me with eyes full of disbelief. After a while, he is convinced by my serious attitude. I continue:

    "I know you''re worried about your position, but that''s not a reason to give up. If you express yourself, you may be accepted or rejected. But if you don''t speak up, you''ll always believe that you never had her love..."

    The shepherd looks at me with empathetic eyes. Rhoten looks back at Diana, still drawing tirelessly. His heavy sigh is full of emotion and it ignites my passion. A love failure, now teaching someone else how to love. But there is a conflict when the very failure realises what mistakes she had made, to understand what she should have pursued.

    "Trust me, itˇŻs my own experience..."

 Chapter 14 -Shearing Sheep (3)

    ˇ°...And Greta pulls the blanket up, covering Hansel who is shivering. She looks at him with a caring and gentle expression. Hansel lies with his head resting on her lap, his slow and steady breathing lulling him into a deep sleep. Greta sits with her back against the stone wall, looking towards the cave entrance where the snowflakes dance in the wind. She smells the aroma of the stewing pork and sees the image of the elaborately decorated Christmas tree in the flickering firelight. Tomorrow, the rescue team will arrive, and despite the harsh weather, Greta is filled with hope. They will overcome the cold and snow, and then they will go home and get married. Greta will wear the wedding dress she has always dreamed of, and Hansel can build a house by Lake Balkan, with a flower-filled garden and a few dogs. There are so many wonderful things they can do together, once they leave this place.

    Greta closes her eyes. She decides to go to sleep early to rest. The rescue team will definitely come tomorrow and take them out of this cave! She believes so. She has to believeˇ­ˇ±

    Thena closes the book and breathes a sigh of relief. David''s snoring breaks the peaceful atmosphere in the warm room. It has been a long time since all four of us sisters had a chance to gather and spend time together. David and Thena arrange their schedules to come home with me to overcome the difficulties. David has gained the great trust of the Hewitte family, and now I become their treasurer. Meanwhile, Thena has begun to make progress in her career. She is now Mr. Harrington''s secretary, and with his help, she is about to publish her first novel.

    We are honoured to be the first "listeners" of that book, even though two of those who were given the opportunity to listen fell asleep. David is now grown up and extremely tall. He inherited my father''s stature and my mother''s candour. David tried to listen to Thena''s story, but my younger brother was too tired to follow to the end. He sat in the middle of the school bench, with his arms wide open, and Diana and I leaned on David''s shoulders. Diana seemed to have had a tired day with papers, causing her to nod off before Thena could clarify the ending of the two main characters. Now, it is just me and Thena facing each other. Listening to Thena''s story this time, I no longer cry. I look at her, my younger sister who is now a mature, dignified, and thoughtful woman. I asked softly:

    "They won''t come to rescue them, will they?"

    "Maybe, or maybe not...", Thena says. "If the rescue team really doesn''t come, the story will become a ton of tragedy, but in return, it becomes deeper and more profound. I can''t write a truly happy ending, because there is something that has held me back. An open ending has its merits."

    "So that the readers can decide the fate of the main couple themselves...", I smile faintly. "For me, I strongly believe that the rescue team will come. Greta and Hansel will live happily ever after."

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    "Yes, I believe everyone wants that ending...", Thena nods.

    "Even if...", I stand up, as if I realised something profound. "Even if Greta and Hansel can''t make it, they will still be together in their last moments. Is this still a tragedy?"

    Thena takes a deep breath as if to refresh her thoughts. The girl who always dreamed of progress or innovation now only has the old colour of the early 20th century. It seems that life in Oxford is not as she expected. Thena replied softly:

    "For readers, death is eternal, Fiona..."

    I still haven''t understood Thena''s intention, the sound of footsteps on the stairs makes me turn back to look. It is my husband in his pyjamas, Augustin, putting his hand on the stair railing, looking at me and asking:

    "Aren''t you coming up to the room?"

    I turn my head to look at the pendulum clock on the wall. It is nearly two in the morning now, and perhaps Augustin has been waiting for me until now. We have been distant from each other for a while, and although Augustin has tried to rebuild the relationship between us, part of me still cannot forgive him. The excitement he had for me caused Elizabeth to be born prematurely, and right or wrong, I blamed him for that. I turn to look at Thena, but she does not show any expression. The ticking of the clock below the glass face also excites me. Augustin remains silent and waits for a signal. But perhaps the pain in me is still strong enough to shake my head at that. I turn around and say lightly, "No, I''ll stay with everyone..."

    "Alright," Augustin smiles awkwardly. I can see the disappointment on his face. "I''ll leave the door unlocked in case you want to come in..."

    "I''ll sleep here, with my siblings."

    I reply straightforwardly, as if not giving him a chance. Augustin is stunned for a moment. I know I am being unfair to him, but I still cannot face Augustin after all that. Maybe at some point, when I have completely stepped out of that shadow, I will open my heart again. But for some reason, I feel like that will not ever happen.

    Augustin turns back to the room in thought, and my heart does not flutter at all. I sigh, looking at Thena full of emotions. I leave David''s embrace and come to sit with her. I widen my shoulders and hug Thena tightly. I do not ask her what was wrong with her, or give her any advice. I understand my sister, if there is a problem, she will tell me when she really needs help. For now, I think just a sincere hug will warm her heart. I always trust in a saying of my father''s: we were born as solitary individuals, but we grew up in the same embrace, and that will always be the support for this beautiful life.

 Chapter 14 - Shearing Sheep (4)

    "You can''t go on like this, Fiona."

    That was what my mother said when she saw Augustin walking alone in the large garden. Though the distance between my mother and me has been narrowed, there is still enough space for us to have difficulty sharing with each other. I put down the unfinished knitted hat I am working on and watch my mother who is ageing every moment. I know what she is referring to, but I still pretend not to understand and ask:

    "What do you mean?"

    "You can''t just ignore Augustin forever. He''s your husband, after all."

    "My husband," I snap at her, continuing to knit the hat. "I don''t need everyone reminding me of that. Augustin is my husband, and I''m his wife. Our relationship is still beautiful."

    "Is it really?" My mother looks at me with an experienced and sly gaze.

    I sigh heavily, then put the pile of knitted yarn aside. I turn my head to look outside, where my husband is walking absentmindedly. I am not a cold-blooded woman or emotionless. I really feel sorry for Augustin being like that. If I did not bring up that issue, Augustin would have been a good husband. But real life does not contain ˇ°ifˇ±, doesnˇŻt it?

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    "He is the reason Elizabeth died, Mom. I can''t forgive him, at least not now."

    "Fiona, about Elizabeth''s death, I am her grandmother, and I feel the same pain as you do now. But ask yourself, does it ever occur to you that you are the reason for your argument?"

    I bow my head, unable to answer right away. I stand up and move toward the shimmering glass door to look outside. Whenever I am confused, I claw at the corner of my fingernail as a way to cope. My eyes are watery, trying not to cry because I cannot bear to be weak. My mother also sighs beside me. A widow at a mature age, living in a large and wealthy house, but always agonising. Being a mother is her whole life''s job, and children like us, even though we''re grown-ups, we are still children who need to be taught. She gently continues:

    "I''ve never liked Augustin, and I''ve always believed that you''ll be happier marrying Enzo. But you''ve had your chance, and you have made your choice, Fiona. You must face your decision, my child."

    I turn to look at my mother, tears rolling down my cheeks. I notice the corner of her eye is also damp. She says:

    "You are no longer Fiona Lamstrong, you are now Fiona Morten!"

    The church bell rings and the vows suddenly echo in my ears again. My body shakes as if entering the church. Paper flowers fly in the air, some landing on the veil. This family name will follow me down to the grave, no matter what I do, I cannot change that.

 Chapter 14 - Shearing Sheep (5)

    It has been a long time since I set foot here, and it feels like half a lifetime has passed. Without Enzo, I have no reason to come to this hill anymore. There are things that only have meaning when done together. This hill is a testament to my love for Enzo and his love for me, and now I am ready to let go.

    I look at the pile of rocks stacked on top of each other, a feeling of nostalgia washes over me. We promised to marry when we had a hundred stones, but we could not wait. Ninety-eight was the final number before everything happened, and it will never be one hundred like we promised. I am trapped in this vow that I brought upon myself. Enzo is now wandering in a new land, and he may have found a better girl than me. Anyone would be better than me! I am nothing but a pretty face. But what remains after twenty, thirty years? Beauty will become old and ugly, and then I will die like millions of beautiful girls with countless regrets.

    I choose a small stone and place it on top. I take a moment to reminisce about what was once extremely happy. Today, I have to leave behind everything that is within my heart. From today, I will return to my true identity: Mrs. Morten. I will not linger on my feelings for Enzo anymore, and I have to move on after all these years. Tomorrow we will return to London, ending two months of vacation officially. My children have also returned to their routines, and I no longer have time to indulge in grief.

    As I reminisce, I unconsciously count each stone that was placed there, and I am surprised to see a strange and incredible thing. I had to count it a few times before accepting that there had been a change. One hundred stones, exactly one hundred, no more, no less. I immediately run over and place my hand on the rough surface of the stones. I cry in joy. One of them was definitely Enzo''s after everything fell apart. Enzo has also let go of everything after all, and it makes me feel less painful than ever. Now I am completely relieved to make my decision. Here, on behalf of both of us, I plead for mercy from God, to close the chapter of my love with Enzo. Our beautiful memories of each other will be hidden here, and no matter how much it hurts, they should be kept deep within forever.

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    I take a deep breath and feel tears of relief fall, as if my soul has been purified. I lie on my back on the lush green grass, still fragrant with freshness, and though the feeling is not the same as before, I feel lighter than ever. I suddenly think of the situation between Augustin and me. Perhaps we should consider having a child together. Becoming parents will help us change our perspectives of each other, and find more common ground.

    After a while, as I awaken, I feel my mind is more clear. The sun is no longer gentle, signalling that it is time to return. I stand up, brush off the dust on my dress, and slowly walk down the slope. I thought my heart could rest, and it did until I saw the old butler, Garris (1), coming up. Seeing him, a sudden sense of foreboding pulls me back. We stand in silence for a moment, exchanging awkward glances. Garris''s gloomy face signals something terrible.

    Perhaps, if I had known beforehand, I would have kept all those burdens in my heart. Because what I am about to learn will kill me many more times!

    The sun sets, coldly passing over the top of my head.

 Chapter 15 - Anguished Heart (1)

    I hurry home, my eyes red and my face filled with terror. I pass through a crowd of people greeting me, but I no longer care about anything. I have just received news that will haunt me for the rest of my life. I weep, but no tears come, for somewhere inside me a few rays of hope still linger. I run long steps, hoping to get home soon, but the weight of the burden from somewhere presses down on my chest, making me even more exhausted. Finally, I manage to step into the house, but the pain only truly opens up to me now.

    In the large room, my husband, Diana, and my mother are sitting together enjoying tea. The taste of green tea now becomes unfamiliar to me. I do not even remember the last time I peacefully enjoyed tea. Looking at them laughing and joking, suddenly, in this small and thirsty heart, I feel jealous. Why can they act as if nothing has happened? Why can they be so indifferent and hide it from me if it is true? There are still a series of questions that I want to be answered right now, but I need to know if what I heard is accurate.

    "Mother, do you know?"

    I look straight at my mother, who is preparing to answer my husband''s question. My question appears to confuse my mother. She puts down the teacup, clasps her knees tightly together, and puts her hand on top of them, asking:

    "I donˇŻt understand what you mean, Fiona."

    My husband recognises my uneasy expression. He stands up and walks over to hold my hand, concernedly asking:

    "What''s wrong with you?"

    But now, all I have in my head is that one thing. No one, no matter what is important to me anymore. I push his hand away in front of everyone. I let him stand there, while I go to interrogate my mother. I just want to know the truth!

    "Today, I met Garris... on my old hill. Mother, do you have anything to tell me?"

    My mother''s face turns gray and begins to fill with conflict. Diana also notices the change in her, squinting her eyes and looking perplexed. My eyes shimmer with tears, ready to burst at any moment. My thin, bruised hands clasp together until they bleed. I try to restrain myself, for within me there is still a glimmer of hope. I will refuse any answer that I do not want. I have already lost him once, I cannot lose him again!

    "Is it true?"

    "Mother, what''s going on?" Diana takes my mother''s hand, worriedly asking.

    "Fiona, can you just calm down?" Augustin grabs my arm and pulls me back, but I refuse to be left behind any longer. I resentfully look at my husband, despite his near-breaking self-control. I pull my arm away from him sharply and say:

    "I have to know, Augustin! I have to know!"

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    I push Augustin aside, and everyone''s attention now turns to my mother. My eyes are blurred with bitter tears, and my mother''s answer may cause them to flow backwards or in torrents. I silently pray for something that is unlikely to happen, but I still stubbornly hold on to hope. Because if it is true, I will not know what else to do to carry on.

    My mother looks at me with a face full of guilt, and a nod breaks down the entire wall that I built up. Both mother and daughter do not speak, but they feel each other''s pain. I scream in anger and agony, feeling as if every bone in my body is being broken. Although Augustin does not understand what has made me so agitated, he still steps forward and embraces me tightly. Tears keep falling, and all hope within me fades away. My heart screams inside, emitting a deafening sound. I feel like a widow waiting helplessly for her husband after a war. Why do terrible things always seem to find me just when I think I can let go? Why does God always find ways to torment me? Am I really such a blameworthy woman?

    "And you intend to hide it from me forever?"

    "You have never asked...", my mother shakes her head.

    "Does it ever occur to you that I am the very person who needs to know it?", I step out of Augustin''s embrace and reproach everyone. I suddenly become a crazy person, not caring about what I could do to hurt others.

    I step back until my back touches the cold wall. I slide down and sit on the floor with a lingering pain. I cry and moan like a widow grieving her husband. The room becomes stuffy like a graveyard with the whispers of widows. Diana also guesses what has happened, and at this moment, the shock is too much for her to bear. Diana covers her mouth and sobs. She quickly runs out of the room with an indescribable emotion. She does not know, and neither does Diana, nor ever dare to think that it could happen. If Thena and David were still here, this whole house would surely become a cemetery. None of us is ready for this. No one!

    Stubbornly misunderstanding is the way humans deal with mental pain, and I am going through it. I stand up, hastily wiping away the tears. I do not believe it has happened. It was just this morning that my heart was still beating when I thought of him. Everything is still too new, and I cannot accept that Enzo has left me forever. Then a strange string of thought just obnoxiously haunts me: This might probably be a mean way of my mother-in-law or even Augustin to completely cut me off from Enzo. I even believe my own misunderstandings, just to deceive myself that he is still there. I am ready to deceive myself for the rest of my life, believing that he is not dead.

    "I don''t believe it! Something must be wrong!"

    "Fiona, you have to calm down..."

    "I can''t calm down!" I shout at my mother''s face. I have completely lost myself. But at this point, I no longer care. "He is my water, my sun and my everything, mother! I dream about him every night, he can''t be dead!"

    The more I talk, the more I display my own irrationality, but I keep talking. Regardless of everyone''s advice, even my husband who is there with a sad and desperate face, I do not care. I hurriedly run outside where the driver is wiping the car in front of the yard. I cannot believe anyone in this house anymore. In my heart, I still believe that Enzo is still alive and he is extremely happy on the other side of the ocean. Surely it''s true! I frantically make conditions in my head, only to wish that Enzo is safe and sound. I just need that!

    Augustin and my mother run after me outside, calling out to me, but I got in the car and forced the driver to go as fast as possible. I need to go to the City Hall in Southampton to confirm the news. Although deep down I know that nothing can be changed, life always has its ironies. No one can always be sober at all times. I accept the fact that I have become a fool and dreamer, only to keep the fragile hope alive. It is not just because of my love for Enzo, but it is also a sense of guilt. Because if he really died, then I am the main cause of it. I can live the rest of my life if he hates me, despises me, or sees him happy with someone else, but I cannot thrive on knowing that I am the root cause that led him to a dead end.

 Chapter 15 - Anguished Heart (2)

    ˇ°Please, sir, please find him again! Please help me find his name one more time! Enzo Madilson.ˇ± I earnestly implore the officer to review the names of those rescued in the most notorious maritime disaster in English history, the Titanic. I can see the officer''s discomfort, but I continue to beg him to help me. I cling to him like a tenacious leech, insisting on something impossible. I have lost all the grace, elegance, and composure of a dignified woman. I even go so far as to claim to be Enzo''s wife. I have always been this way, never thinking about the consequences of my actions or words. How did I become so despicable and contemptible, someone who used to care about Thena''s refined attire or David''s less-than-posh dining habits? Is that who I truly am, and have I deceived everyone and myself with an arrogant facade?

    I swallow a mouthful of saliva when I see the officer''s patience starting to wear thin. I exhale heavily and stubbornly say, "Perhaps you''re not searching for the correct name. Let me spell it for you! E-Z... I''m sorry, I was mistaken... Damn it, I''m so confused, I''m sorry... E-N-Z-O, M-A..."

    My madness makes the officer sickened. He slams the notebook shut with force. The piercing sound startles me, but it is also a wake-up call. The officer glares at me and shouts, "Madam, this is the fifth time! The name you''re looking for is not on this list!"

    "Then it must be on another list..."

    "No! And no more lists, madam! Your husband is dead, and it''s very painful, but it''s the truth!"

    Everyone in the room looks at me with curious eyes. I do not know how to face this. While I still have tears in my eyes, another officer brings a different file to Officer Cowell - the one I was bothering. In a moment, I feel like I have been saved. I am convinced that it is a different list, and Enzo''s name has been recorded on it. I silently observe Cowell''s face, trying to find something unusual about it. I hold my breath, praying that my intuition is right. My heart beats fast like an athlete trying to reach the finish line. In that moment, I feel like I am the main character of the story, as everything around me seems to move slower than half-speed. The sound of the phone dial, the sound of the pen rolling on the paper, the sound of the button and the typewriter keys are like a sudden music dedicated to me. Now, all my energy depends on that notebook. Please! I beg the Lord for mercy, please give me hope! I beg you to let Enzo''s name be recorded in it again!

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    Cowell frowns and looks at the names written in it, occasionally looking up at me. Then both officers look at each other as if silently giving a signal. My heart is burning with hope that I can grab the files from the officer''s hand and find the answer myself. It takes a while for Cowell to hesitate before placing the file on the table and pointing to the page. Cowell does not say a word but lets me look. I think it is just a feeling of shame that he did not believe me, and he did not really try to help. I hold my breath, scan each name with my finger. And I am so sure I jerked and shouted when I saw those handwritten letters. "Enzo Madilson," not a single letter is wrong! I jump up, ignoring how others might judge me. I hold up the file, my hand glued to the row of names. I cannot stop my emotions. I turn to look at everyone, shouting in joy:

    "My husband! My husband! His name is in here!"

    And then a feeling of disgust overcomes me as I desire to humiliate the "unpleasant" officer, I impulsively confront him:

    "I said my husband''s name is on the list! I told you but you didn''t believe me!"

    "I''m sorry... It''s true that your husband''s name is there..."

    "Thank God! My Enzo is still alive!", I burst out passionately. "Where can I find Enzo, sir?"

    At this moment, I seriously consider immediately going to find Enzo and running away with him to a strange land where no one can find us. I will give up all the status, virtue, and reputation that I have. I will abandon everything to start anew with Enzo. Now, all I need is him! I just need him alone, and that will be enough!

    I look at Cowell with hopeful puppy eyes. I am ready now! Now I am completely ready to pursue the call of my heart. But I am not ready for Cowell''s answer right after.

    Cowell shakes his head and looks at me with sympathetic eyes, and that immediately raises a red alert for me. He uses a low and empathetic tone and gently says:

    "In the Atlantic... Because this is the casualty list."

 Chapter 15 - Anguished Heart (3)

    What does one do when they know they have killed someone? Can they sleep well every night or enjoy a wine party with many delicacies and strange objects? Can they feel satisfied with this life? Does their heart still beat in the same rhythm or deviate in some way? Most evil people do not realise how evil they are. And I am no exception. Enzo is somewhere deep in the ocean, and I am the one who pushed him onto that fateful ship.

    Barry the chauffeur takes me home after I have lost all hope. I sit silently like a wooden stump, still on the back seat. I slowly breathe in and out, watching the lines of people and cars trailing on the road. Clenched hands. Loving glances. Graceful and hesitant smiles... But everything I can see is jealousy and resentment. I wish that were me...

    A bang behind the car suddenly makes it stop. I fall forward, hitting my forehead on the door. I can hear the chauffeur gasp in horror. I sit up, wiping my forehead with my sleeve. There is a red bloodstain on my arm, and the impact must have caused a gash on my forehead, but I do not feel any pain. Barry, the chauffeur, turns to check if I am injured and is completely worried to see my bleeding forehead. I keep saying that I am fine, although I am not sure if it is true. I just feel my mind is empty. All the worries in life suddenly become a silent void. I take out a scented handkerchief and hold it against my forehead to stop the bleeding, while urging Barry to check the car. The tire blew out, which is why we had to stop.

    I told Barry that I would wait for him until he fixes the flat tire. He replied that he could contact someone for the farm and have another car come pick me up, but I did not want to. What I need most now is an empty space to meditate. I coldly look down at my hand, thin with a luxurious ring hugging my ring finger. Emotionally, I reluctantly take off the ring, despite the pain when I try. The mark of the ring made me realise how wrong I was. Tears flow again. Since the wedding, I cannot count how many times I have cried. I know I am not Cinderella, I know the fairy godmother will not appear and save me, but that is the only thing I can do to comfort myself. The ring in my hand falls to the car floor, but I do not bother to pick it up. I have lost everything. I lost my title, my home, my father, the love of my family, Enzo, Augustin, and Elizabeth. I lost everything that I cherished. And clearly not the fault of anyone but myself.

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    Involuntarily, a familiar feeling suddenly appears. I look up through the window, across the street, a familiar face is looking at me. I stand up stunned, wondering if it is a dream or the truth. Enzo is standing there, looking at me with a sad face. His hands are in his pockets, and he is wearing the old faded blue shirt he often wears when we secretly meet. He said I always left him, but this time will be different. I will go with him, and redeem my mistakes.

    I try to open the door to go out, but suddenly stop when my foot hits the wedding ring. I hesitate for a moment, looking at it, like a villain facing herself for the last time about principles and ethics. But in the end, I turn around and open the door to go outside. Enzo''s call is like an irresistible force that I cannot refuse. I have to go to him before he leaves me again. He is standing there, between two cars, in his old outfit, and familiar face, waiting. I shall come swiftly to the man whom I love. I will come into the arms of the man whom I have hurt. Despite Barry calling my name, my ears automatically block out all other sounds except for the gentle voice of Enzo.

    In a flash, memories flood back. The shouting ˇ°Fionaˇ± repeatedly seems to urge me to do something. My father calling me, my mother calling me and then my siblings calling me. Even Andermis and Augustin calling me, including my cold-hearted mother-in-law. These sounds disturb my mind. Enzo is near, yet far, and I cannot concentrate with those constant calls.

    "You left me before. Now it''s my turn to let you go."

    Enzo''s lament echoes like a stone tied to my feet as I struggle to swim ashore. Once again, I let him slip away, as I watched him walk away without waiting. I stop in the middle of the road, like a lost soul. My ears hear the blaring horn, but my feet cannot move. The car comes closer, but I am like a forgotten statue in a deserted temple. Perhaps, my fate is to not exist in anyone''s memories.

    I close my eyes. Choked up.

 Chapter 15 - Anguished Heart (4)

    The radio''s buzzing wakes me up. My head is still throbbing, and my eyes are sensitive to light, making it hard to see clearly. I thought I was dead, but no, I am still alive. I only feel a slight pain in my arm and lower hip, but the rest seems fine. I do not know how long I was unconscious, but now my mind is clearer than before. At this moment, I finally realise that ultimate fear. I suddenly understand that death is not a way to overcome that pain, and accepting death is not easy. Only when faced with it, do I realise how foolish I was. Enzo might be angry, resentful, and never forgive me for what I did, but the Enzo I know would not let me run out into the street and get hit by a car. The Enzo I love would not want to see me reach this point. It was just a leftover image that I created to console myself. But now I am too scared to think about it. My life still has an ending to come. I still have a lot to rely on.

    I take a long, deep breath and exhale. I look over to my side, and Augustin''s face appears clearly. It seems like he fell asleep while watching over me. For a moment, I feel weak and extremely guilty. I suddenly reach out to him, but the wedding ring makes me hesitate. Someone put it back on my finger, and I fear that it was Augustin. The rustling sound of the blanket wakes up my husband. Augustin looks at me with a little surprise, but then he smiles. He steps closer, holding my hand tightly and softly asks, "How do you feel?"

    "I...", I suddenly cannot answer. There is something about Augustin that makes me silent. I did not anticipate this attitude of his. "How long have I been unconscious?"

    "It''s been two days, but the doctor says you shall be fine," Augustin places his hand on his arm where it was wrapped in a bandage. "Just a few scratches, but youˇŻll soon recover!"

    "Augustin..."

    Suddenly, I grasp his hand, feeling a powerful sense of shame welling up within me. I remember what I have said and done to my family, to myself, and to my husband. A profound regret overwhelms me. It was a great shock, and people might feel sympathetic towards me, but it does not give me the privilege to hurt others. I want to apologise to him, even though it does not mean that I am ready to return to my former position. I just feel guilty and want to express my suffering to him, to relieve myself. But Augustin does not give me time to explain; he immediately silences me with a kiss. This strange behaviour makes me wonder, but my husband forces me to let go. He gently says, "We''ll talk later. Now I just want you to rest. We''ll go back to London this weekend."

    I do not say anything and just nod. Augustin smiles, gives me a gentle kiss on the forehead, stands up straight, and walks towards the radio. He turns the knob, changes the station, trying to find something interesting to listen to. But after a while, he just shakes his head and turns off the radio completely. He turns to look at me, shrugs and says, "I should have turned it off from the beginning."

    I do not reply or make any movement. I am still feeling dizzy, and my mind is mixed up with many things. I need time to sort it out. Augustin leaves the room right after, leaving me alone in the large room. I raise my left hand, observing my wedding ring. Once again, I take it off my finger. I place it under the sunlight shining into the room. My pupil dilates. It is only now that I realise that my ring has a dent in it, and I do not know when it happened.

    <hr>

    The relationship between my husband and me, although seemingly fine on the surface, has left me feeling distant from him. We hardly speak to each other, except for the usual morning and good night greetings or common pleasantries. I suppose I have lost another person who truly cares for me, but I dare not regret it as I foresaw it from the beginning. Any love, no matter how strong, enduring, or sincere, will be eroded by the indifference and ingratitude of the other party. I am not in a position to demand anything, so I will remain silent and wait for whatever comes.

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    We bid everyone farewell and board the carriage to return to London. Somehow, I feel this will be the last time I see this place. I pause for a moment to take in the sight of where I was born and raised. It is time for me to return to my reality, to my role as a wife and mother, if my husband still desires it. I heave a sigh and firmly shut the door. Once again, the wheels roll on the rocky road. We will return to London, to our mundane life and gilded cage.

    Throughout the journey, my husband does not say a word, but I can sense his discomfort. His irritation is evident on his face, and I cannot pretend not to notice. I reach for his hand, but he pulls away coldly. His decisiveness startles me, and we keep our distance from each other as we usually do. The already cramped seat now feels like half the size of the road, and the suffocating atmosphere makes poor Barry, the chauffeur, feel heavy. We both look in different directions. Barry looks straight ahead, as he always does when he must concentrate on driving, while I look through the left window, with my husband in the opposite direction. The image of a divorce letter suddenly appears in my mind with almost absolute certainty. Augustin has everything he needs to divorce me, to send me back to the pigsty and the hoe, taking away everything I have fought to regain. But I am too tired to blame him or myself. Now I just want to live a normal life and accept what is possible.

    Augustin''s teeth grinding makes me anxious. I have seen Augustin burst into a fit of rage once, and it was truly terrifying. I will never forget that night, and I can see it happening again.

    Without saying anything, my husband orders Barry to turn back, even though we have travelled quite a distance. When Barry hesitates, Augustin yells, frightening both me and Barry. Immediately, Barry turns the carriage around, and I look at Augustin with eyes full of concern. But my husband is no longer interested in anything, and I cannot tell what he is thinking.

    "Mr. Morten, should we go back to the Drevolre Manor?" Barry asks.

    "No!" Augustin replies abruptly. Suddenly, a cold feeling envelops me. My husband slowly turns his head to look at me, as if I am trapped. He smiles faintly, but with a sinister and gloomy expression. "We''ll go to your favourite hill, my dear."

    "But I don''t know where it is, sir..."

    "Don''t worry, my dear wife will show you!"

    I hold my breath tightly to keep my body from breaking apart. The wheel keeps rolling steadily, and once it stops, I will have to answer to his anger.

    <hr>

    He takes me back to our private hill, despite my confusion about why he knows about it. He steps down to open the door, his face devoid of emotion, waiting for me to follow. I hesitate, looking at Barry with hope that he will intervene, but all I receive is silence and some fear. I do not blame Barry, for he is just a servant with no voice. In the end, I have to follow him. My husband slams the door shut violently, making me flinch. He stands up straight, adjusts the creases in his clothes, and orders, "Barry, stay here. My wife and I have a meeting with a deceased friend."

    He then raises his arm, signalling for me to put on my coat. I reluctantly look at the nearest person there to send a plea, but then realise that I cannot change anything and must accept my fate as I put my arm through my husband''s. I do not know what my husband is thinking or if he has any ideas for me, but I dare not expect anything gentle. I know all too well the demon inside my husband. Why? Because I created it myself.

    ˇ­

    ˇ­

    ˇ­

 Chapter 15 - Anguished Heart (5)

    The wheels stop, and the engine noise subsides, as we return to glamorous London at dusk. Only my mother-in-law and Andermis are there to greet us, while my father-in-law, as usual, is busy with mysterious work. Perhaps he is catching up with paperwork, or meeting important clients. But we are not so intimate to care about what the other is doing. Both my mother-in-law and Andermis show some unusual emotion when they see us get out of the car. I can read part of their emotions through their faces.

    My husband steps forward to hug his mother and kisses her on the cheek. I quietly greet my mother after a long trip, and although she is surprised to see me, she still awkwardly kisses me on the cheek. The tension between the Morten brothers suddenly ignites in their handshake. The servants outside begin to unload luggage and take them to our rooms. My mother-in-law goes inside the house, and my husband follows, while Andermis and I are still looking at each other. Andermis could not help but frown at my appearance right now. He asked with a worried look, "Are you alright, Fiona?"

    The bruises and scratches all over my face and body make Andermis restless, but I cannot say anything. I just remain silent and shake my head. "Everything''s fine."

    "Fiona..." Andermis grabbed my arm as I tried to walk inside. "What did Augustin do to you?"

    "Fiona!"

    The ineffective calls made me startled. My husband is behind me, calling loudly with a cold face. I immediately withdraw my hand from Andermis, hurriedly walk inside. I do not resist, completely surrendered to my husband. I drap his shoulders as we walk upstairs, bowing like an obedient woman to my husband. No one knows what happened on the hill, and I do not want to mention it again. The only thing everyone needs to know is that Fiona Morten is an obedient wife, caring, and listens to Augustin Morten. Soon, I will be pregnant with the heir to this family. I will maintain my integrity. I will preserve the virtue of a woman and the faith of a devout bell. One thing that I always have to remind myself not to forget, I am a Morten.

    I follow him up the stairs to return to my familiar room. Andermis'' gaze still follows my every step, but there is nothing else he can do. I bow my head and walk silently. Everything can change quickly in the blink of an eye.

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    <hr>

    When I wake up, Augustin has already left the house early, and I do not know where he has gone. Andermis also left mysteriously during the night. He did not leave any words, and no one knows where he went. The maid Anna tells me about master Andermis packing his luggage in a flurry and leaving on a midnight train without turning back.

    If I say that I do not feel disappointed and completely indifferent to Andermis'' absence, it would surely be a lie. Part of me has disappeared with Andermis, and now I feel really empty. Last night, before Augustin and I fulfilled our obligation to each other, I heard the two siblings ??talking back and forth. Andermis must have confronted him and questioned the wounds on my body. Whether in Drevolre or Aries House, there is at least one man who really cares about and protects me. Sometimes I wonder what I have cultivated to experience such despair, and what virtues have allowed me to meet good people like Andermis. I do not understand either. I think it is a game that God has left for me. Perhaps one day I will realise, but not in the near future.

    I stand by the window, looking down at a large corner garden with a fountain in the centre. The sound of the gate opening makes me glance over. A black car drives in and stops right in front of the door. A servant walks up to open the car door, and out steps a young woman in a light pink dress. I cannot see her face clearly, but I imagine she must have a very beautiful one. The fur hat she is wearing looks very fashionable, as does the leather purse she is carrying along. I silently wonder who she could be, appearing with such grace. Could it be that Augustin has a sister I do not know about? Perhaps she is my mother-in-law''s niece or someone close. But then, when the other door opens and a familiar person steps out, I immediately stop guessing. I should have looked out earlier!

    My husband steps out of the car, looking very happy. He even looks up at the room, as if he knows I am watching from above. He smiles triumphantly, while I do not bother to show any emotions. Augustin walks over to the woman. He extends his arm in a polite manner, and she takes it. The two walk in, like a pair of lovebirds, completely oblivious to anyone or anything else.

    I take a deep breath, then shake my head in frustration. I walk to the door of the room and lock it tightly. But then, as if I have thought of something, I unlock it and go downstairs.

 Chapter 16 -Francine (1)

    On May 19, 1913, at the Aries House,

    I grip the headboard tightly with one hand and clutch the bedspread with the other. Sweat pours down my forehead like a waterfall. I am too exhausted to even groan as my throat is sore and worn out. The sweat blurs my vision, making everything in front of me look blurry like a car mirror in the fog. The things and people I see now only resemble shadows on a cheap circus screen. The pain divides my mind and body into small pieces. I compare myself to a stuffed puppet falling into the hands of a bad owner. He tears me apart, and when he is not satisfied, he throws that puppet to his fierce dog. It bites and tears me apart without mercy, leaving nothing behind. It easily rips me apart like a sheet of newspaper, and it will not stop until the fabrics and cotton are all mixed up. Fortunately, the kind and gentle mother sews the puppet back together, but it cannot escape the cruelty of the dog and its owner. Time and time again, the punishment is like a terrible loop that I have to endure.

    Yes, I am in labour.

    "Push harder, maˇŻam!" Dr. Romwell''s urging seems to be of no use to me. The first birth was easier, and the memories of it have faded away quickly. Elizabeth was too small for me to have difficulties during childbirth, even though it was my first time. But now, the pain has surpassed its definition, and I no longer realise that I am experiencing the worst physical pain. I am like a person who is paralysed from the waist down and cannot fully feel the limbs of my body. Sometimes I just want to stop, but the effort to carry this baby for so many months makes it impossible for me to fail. This child is my second chance to redeem my mistake. I am determined to do whatever it takes to ensure that this child is safely born, even if I have to bargain with Death himself.

    I can no longer hear any instructions from the doctor or the midwives crowded in this room. The only thing I know is that I have to try my best to push. The thought of the baby suffocating if it does not come out of my body soon turns part of my mental strength into energy that I can use. Once again, I place half of my faith in God. I have begged Him to save my previous life, but He has never responded. I lost faith in Him and am ready to return if He helps me this time. Let this child of mine be born smoothly, and I will believe that God loves everyone equally and somewhere in this world, He covers the mercy on every unfortunate soul.

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    "Fiona, do you hear me?"

    In the moment of almost collapsing, a familiar voice wakes me up. I have not heard this voice for almost a year, and when it returns, it sounds like a gentle bell in the church. A hand full of nostalgia grabs me like a person who is about to receive the elixir of life. I try to open my eyes to make sure I am not mistaken for someone else. I hold onto their strong arm while trying to push. Andermis has returned after a long disappearance, just when I needed support. Ideally, my husband should be the one by my side right now, but no one knows where he is, not even my respected mother-in-law who is waiting in the next room for news.

    "Do you hear me, Fiona...?" The familiar warm voice is like a pile of fire that keeps my mind alert against the bone-chilling cold of human hearts. "Breathe in, breathe out following my counting..."

    I do not reply, but my body automatically follows his words. Slowly, I take a deep breath. In the depths of my memories, I suddenly remember moments from my childhood. I recall the first time I played the violin or when David cried when Thena joked that he was adopted. Beautiful memories always give us strength, but sometimes too many of them can make us lose our way. Andermis'' hesitant voice is my beacon to find my way. I take a deep breath, then pause for a moment before exhaling with all my strength. I tightly grip Andermis'' hand, afraid to let go for fear of losing my lifeline. I repeat the process, determined to give birth. Nothing will take away my child this time! Even if Death himself were to come and take my child away, I would take anything I could as a weapon to face that spiritual entity. Above all, I am a mother, and any mother can become a goddess for her child!

 Chapter 16 - Francine (2)

    "You left everything behind... and now you''ve come back without a word," I observe my mother-in-law holding the baby outside through the crack in the door before turning back to Andermis sitting next to me within arm''s reach. It has only been an hour since I gave birth and the doctor has just taken my placenta. The room now reeks of a horrifying smell of blood and anyone without business does not dare to step in, except Andermis who is still there keeping me company. Looking at his once pristine vest now stained with dirt, I suddenly feel sorry for him. But a part of me is still unhappy about Andermis'' unexpected departure, so I maintain my composure. I want to hear his reason because it''s more interesting than finding my husband''s whereabouts.

    "May I ask you why?" I say.

    Andermis looks away with his eyes gazing into the distance, his lips pursed as if trying to come up with a reason. He notices a wrinkle on my blanket and immediately adjusts it. Andermis lets out a sigh, then turns to look at my mother holding the baby. Reluctantly, he exclaims, "Mother seems to like the baby."

    "She doesn''t. Daughters can''t inherit, that''s why Mrs. Rose will never cherish the baby," I shake my head. We are both women, and even though I am younger and less experienced than her, I can tell if someone truly cares or not. "And you haven''t answered me yet..."

    Andermis becomes uneasy with my persistence. I shift my weight, sitting up straighter, and even though it hurts a little at first, I feel better afterward. I notice Andermis trying to hide his little finger on his left hand and suddenly I feel a bit uneasy. I ask, "Have you married?"

    "Yes..." Andermis forces a smile.

    "What kind of smile is that?" even a fool can tell that something is not right with his face.

    "Just like the last time... The fairytale ending didn''t go smoothly."

    I am unsure why, but upon hearing this, I feel somewhat satisfied. I attribute it to the fact that procreation has rendered my mind dull and unattractive, for I am not ready to see the only person who has ever supported me with a wife. I am just an ordinary person, I do not consider myself noble or have ever been, occasionally I have selfish and opportunistic thoughts. Of course, I hope Andermis will have his own happiness, but now that he has just returned, I am not ready to let him go again.

    Andermis takes out a photo from his breast pocket and hands it to me. It is a black and white photo of him and a woman standing next to each other. At first glance, I am amazed by the woman''s face. There is something very familiar about her that I cannot describe in words, to the point where I thought Andermis did not choose that photo randomly. I hand the photo back to him and exclaim, "What a lucky girl!"

    He looks at me in surprise, and there seems to be a hint of disappointment in his response, but then he shrugs and laughs. He puts the photo back into his pocket and slowly tells the story, "That night, I caught a night train to the port and went to France. A school friend of mine sent me an invitation many times to go there and teach, but I kept postponing. I accepted and thought I would never return to England again..."

    "Why?" I gaze at him affectionately.

    "I thought there was nothing left here to keep me," he nods with a sullen expression.

    "But in the end, you came back?"

    I smile at Andermis. Since he left, I have been struggling to get through each day in front of my husband''s hateful eyes, as well as the coldness of those in the house. My husband''s name is now just a meaningless title. Everyone in the house knows about Francine, my husband''s lover, who constantly visits this house. She is his personal secretary. The first time Francine stepped into this house, she used the pretext of being my book club reader, but in reality, it was just an excuse to justify sleeping with him. Augustin played cards with me, and sooner or later Francine will send me a one-way train ticket. Andermis and I were both seen as "extras" in the family, and we quickly had sympathy for each other. Andermis'' return to me is truly unbelievable.

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    Andermis sits back on the chair, trying to recall perhaps the happy moments he had during that time. Andermis doesn''t look at me, gently saying:

    "Mary is Professor Harrison''s daughter, head of the Law Department where I work. I met her a few times at the library, in school, and at parties at the professor''s house. He contributed to the union between me and Mary. Four months later, we got married."

    "What happened between the two of you?" I curiously ask.

    "Are you sure you want to hear more?" Andermis asks anxiously. "You still look like you haven''t recovered from giving birth. Do you want to rest first?"

    "No, go on," I dismiss his concern, urging him on.

    Andermis smiles and shakes his head. There is something contained in his heart that I can feel. Suddenly, he stops for a moment, just staring at me intently. It would be a lie if I said that I did not feel anything from that gaze. Suddenly, from a pile of rubble, only the dust of the past remains, his respectful gaze makes me feel like I am being restored to my original appearance. I become a mansion by the lake, where flowers bloom all year round, antique objects lie quietly in glass cases, and books are neatly placed on shelves. The Lord in His mercy has sent Andermis to me as a test of my righteousness, and even though I shall not err again, I still feel lost at times.

    "Mary is just not her..."

    Andermis speaks softly but with a hint of sharpness. Instantly, two thoughts come to mind as to the meaning behind "her." I look deep into Andermis'' calm blue eyes, trying to find an answer, but the more I search, the more I become afraid. I hesitate as he catches my gaze. The sound of a crying baby outside forces me to reevaluate myself. I am a wife, a mother; I have chosen this life. I grip my hand tightly, uncertainly asking:

    "Satine?"

    Andermis does not answer right away. Instead, an emotionless expression appears on his face. He takes a deep breath and crosses his legs, his lips quivering slightly as he nods:

    "Yes..." I can feel the weight in his voice. "I still haven''t forgotten Satine."

    We nod at each other and then fall into silence for a while. The baby continues to cry louder, and my mother-in-law cannot take it anymore, so she hands the baby back to me. She is still angry with Andermis for leaving without a word, so when she sees him, she just walks by casually. Andermis does not seem to care either. She hands the baby to me and says:

    "The baby is probably hungry."

    "Yes..." I reply softly. I hold my baby in my arms, the one I struggled to give birth to, and hold her head close to my chest. The baby still does not have a name, as my mother-in-law wants to leave it to Augustin. Nevertheless, I have thought of Margaret as her name. If I wait for my husband to come back to name her, the baby will probably not have a birth certificate until next Christmas.

    I try to cover myself up so that Margaret can suckle, but I suddenly remember that Andermis is still in the room, which makes it hard for me to lift my hand. I do not know why Andermis is like a man possessed today. He is just sitting there as if nothing has happened. I constantly signal to him with my eyes, but Andermis seems not to notice. It is not until my mother turns to talk to him that he finally reacts:

    "You left without saying a word for a whole year, and now you suddenly come back. Are you planning on staying here to watch your sister-in-law...?"

    At this moment, Andermis becomes awkward and leaves the room, his face showing a hint of shame. My mother-in-law grunts in her throat and then glances at me. It is the first time I have felt sympathy from her, or at least an eye that does not contain malice. Recently, I have also heard some information, or rumours, that the marriage between my mother and father-in-law is on the rocks. I do not know the truth, but if everything is correct, that look can be explained.

 Chapter 16 - Francine (3)

    The honking of the car downstairs no longer surprises me. It seems that my husband is tired of Francine and has come home after his wife gave birth for half a day. I bet Augustin does not even know that I was in labour. But now I do not care much anymore. I just need to do my duty well, whether I am loved or not is no longer a concern. This marriage has become a shackle for both of us. Even if Andermis wants to, he cannot divorce. Asset management is always a concern for business-minded individuals like my husband''s family.

    I hear the sound of quarrelling on the floor below, it seems like the two Morten brothers are about to fight again, just like the previous night. The sound of footsteps constantly echoes up the stairs, making me shake my head in disgust. My husband walks into the room with dishevelled clothes and messy hair, I do not know if it was because of Andermis or Francine. But no matter how cold I am to him, I still cannot deny that my husband truly loves this baby. Augustin comes up to look at the baby in my arms. He reaches out his hand and asks softly:

    "Can I hold her?"

    "Of course, yes."

    I smile lightly and reply. What excuse do I have to refuse him now? Augustin is the legal husband and biological father of the baby, neither the law nor ethics can prohibit him from holding his own child, even though during the difficult time of her birth, he was with another woman.

    It has been a long time since I have seen him truly happy standing next to me, even though the newborn is the main reason. He sits next to us, fondly looking at his newly born daughter, lying peacefully in his arms like a little puppy. The baby sucks on his fingertip like she is latching onto my breast, and the sound of her enjoying her motherˇŻs fresh breast milk just makes both of us laugh. Andermis stands outside the door, glaring at my husband with disdainful eyes. I shake my head at Andermis, signalling him to stop. He suppresses his anger and leaves the room, leaving me and Augustin with the baby. Augustin looks at me and asks, "Have you named the child yet?"

    "Not yet," I shake my head. Part of me feels disappointed that he did not ask anything about me. "Mummy said to wait for you to come back."

    Augustin looks thoughtful. We have never had a conversation about this until today, and it seems like Augustin has never thought about it before. I wait for him to ask for my opinion, but all I get is a face full of cunning. After a while, unable to wait any longer, I plan to tell him about the name I had thought of, but suddenly Augustin steps forward before me. And this step does not make me happy at all. "Daddy will call you Francine, my lovely dovey?"

    I am just stunned by his decision. Out of all the names, my husband chooses the name of his lover, and that has pushed me to the peak of anger. I criticise, "Didn''t you think you should have asked me first?"

    "Didn''t you say Mummy told me to name it?" Augustin looks at me coldly, asking me back.

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    "But I''m her mother!" I immediately change my attitude. I will not compromise if it concerns my child. "I went through all the trouble to give birth to this baby!"

    "Well, thank you," Augustin responds gently as if nothing is wrong. "But I''ve already decided on the name."

    "You won''t name her Francine!" I shout. I try to stand up to grab my daughter, but I''m too weak to do that. I sit back on the bed, trying to resist, and growl. "I forbid you to do that."

    My voice screams out, becoming a horrifying sound that makes our daughter cry. Both Lady Rose and Andermis immediately come to my room. Augustin scowls at me and rebukes, "You''re scaring Francine!"

    "I told you not to name her Francine!"

    None of us can bear each other. Andermis stands by my side, while Lady Rose leans towards Augustin. Lady Rose looks at me sternly, "What''s going on that''s causing all this noise? You just gave birth, shouldn''t you be resting?"

    "I won''t let him name our daughter after that bitch!"

    I step forward to take my daughter, but my husband holds onto her tightly. Andermis steps in to help me. He questions Augustin, "Give the baby back to Fiona, August."

    "Don''t you think this is a matter that you can stay out of, little brother!" Augustin sneers. "You touched my wife, now you want to take my daughter too?"

    But Andermis remains unshaken. He maintains his serious expression when facing his older brother. Andermis is slightly taller than my husband, and with his deep voice, he becomes even larger than ever before.

    "The baby is crying. Let her go back to her mother."

    At first, Augustin pays no attention to Andermis'' words, but after failing to calm the baby down, my husband has no choice but to give her back to me. With the instincts of a mother, I immediately switch to protective mode. Just as I begin to feel that he might be a good father, his terrible character forces me to reconsider. I feel like he is doing this to confront me, not for any other reason.

    "You should know that I will still name our daughter Francine," Augustin says.

    My husband is right, I have no power in this matter. Augustin is my child''s father and he has the right to name our child. This regime only brings me helplessness and confusion about justice. And now I must silently accept that my daughter will bear the name Francine for life, only because of the confrontation between her father and me. I turn away, pat my little girl''s back, try to comfort her and we both cry quietly. The most uncomfortable feeling is the inexpressible powerlessness. I cannot do anything, even to protect my own child, I feel so small and helpless.

    The sound of small footsteps gradually shows that Augustin has left, making me unable to hold back my tears anymore. Andermis immediately steps forward to lead me back to bed, then hugs me tightly. My child and I cry as if we were born at the same time. I was too naive to think that things would be easier if we had a child together. But I misjudged the feelings of a man full of hatred. This child is only a way to keep him at home more often, but it is not a long-term solution. And now I have to face the fact that my daughter is attached to that vile name, how can I pretend to be normal?

 Chapter 17 - The Last Christmas (1)

    Christmas, 1913, Aries House.

    One of the most noticeable changes on my body since giving birth is that I have gained weight. I anticipated this, as I had to eat to provide milk for Francine. I did not want the nanny to take care of her. I want to be present in every aspect of my little girl''s growing up. Appearance is no longer important for a ˇ°widowˇ± like me. Augustin not only did not stop his relationship with his mistress Francine, he even publicly went for a walk with her. Although Mrs. Rose did not like her, she did not say anything. She warned Augustin that appearing in public with Francine would lead to suspicion, but that made me angrier because that seemed more important and urgent than the fact that her son was having an affair.

    Fortunately, I have Andermis to keep me company. He helped me reignite my passion for learning. When I am not taking care of Francine, Andermis helps me regain the knowledge I lost. Our relationship is getting better every day. In my daughter''s journey of growing up, Andermis is the one who is present the most, instead of her biological father. Augustin and I are also like strangers now, as he has not touched me in a long time. We also started sleeping separately. I sleep in the room next door, which was prepared for Francine. On weekdays, if he is not at work, Augustin will invite Francine over with the old reason, to "read books" to me. If I say I do not care about that, I will surely be punished for lying. I really care because he is not only my husband, but also the father of my child. No mother wants their child to grow up in a family with a third person. But how could he listen to me? Even my in-laws knew about it, but they just let it pass, so what''s the point of my words?

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    Anna helped me to fasten the tight straps of the shirt after a long time of struggle. I then go check on my daughter. Seeing Francine sleeping soundly, I know that I am the happiest mother in this world. The nanny gently pushes the cradle, while I will take advantage of the time for my lesson. Even if today is Christmas day, I will still make use of every second I have to change myself. Perhaps I do not need to become a helpless woman, just standing behind a man and relying on him. Enzo''s departure made me rethink myself once again. He gave me a reason to live on. The pain for him eventually fades away, and now I am not too desperate when thinking about him. I will regret the beautiful time until my last breath, but that will not make me lose heart.

 Chapter 17 - The Last Christmas (2)

    "Okay, I want you to complete this essay by the end of this week," says my brother-in-law, looking at me with a serious expression, making him stand out from other men. I understand why someone as stern and strict as Andermis constantly gets entangled in short-lived relationships. Women can easily be swayed by a handsome man, but it is his demeanour that keeps them around. I just cannot imagine why Andermis has not settled down yet, but part of me does not want that to happen soon. Am I that evil?

    I close the books on the table and smile at him. Next to Andermis, I feel an extremely peaceful atmosphere. I don''t need to pray to God at the head of my bed every night to be free. Andermis has given me that: freedom and respect. I will be very jealous of any woman who stands by him. I know something is happening between us, but I will never dare to pursue it. Andermis deserves a kinder and better wife than me. And even if I compete, this marriage has become a shackle that ties my feet. Andermis and I are forever like two people on two trains going in opposite directions, unable to meet even if we want to.

    I notice that his wedding ring is gone, which raises a few doubts in my mind. Andermis seems to be keeping everything about his new wife and short marriage a secret. He does not seem to show any concern or regret, but instead, it seems like a release for both of them. I silently watch Andermis put all the books in his bag and observe his every move. Inadvertently, I ask:

    "You don''t talk much about Mary..."

    My question has taken Andermis by surprise and everything seems to freeze. Andermis'' stunned look towards me suddenly makes the atmosphere tense. I realise that it is a taboo issue for him, but it is too late as the words have already left my mouth. While I am unsure of what to do to salvage the situation, Andermis speaks softly:

    "There is nothing to say. She simply deserves a better husband than me."

    "You are already a good man, Andermis," I look at him seriously and firmly. "You have protected me since I came into this house, helped me when I had no one else, and been my companion during the toughest times. All the girls want to be with you."

    "All of them?" Andermis laughs lightly, looking at me.

    I quickly withdraw my hand that was placed on Andermis'' hand, feeling both embarrassed and angry. I am not angry because I feel disrespected, but because I feel ashamed. Andermis, still like when we first met, can somehow see through my thoughts. I immediately turn my head to the other side, covering my blushing cheeks. I do not look at him, appearing stern, and say:

    "I am your sister-in-law, Andermis. Do not joke with me."

    With that, I stand up and leave in a hurry. I do not even bother to observe Andermis'' facial expression. I truly care, but I cannot delve deeper. I am afraid that my feelings may affect those around me. Too many things have been destroyed by my impulsiveness, and I do not want to repeat that. Francine already has an unfaithful father, and I do not want the little girl to face such a mother like that.

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    Andermis grips my hand tightly and pulls me back. At first, I am awkward and jerk away, but then I remain still. He releases me and looks silently while my eyes stick to the floor. I can hear the heavy sound in his breath and smell the masculine scent of cologne. I will not pretend that I am immune to all the emotions that we have for each other, but fear makes me hesitate. I cannot gamble everything I have on a source of inspiration, a good gesture, or a desire. I no longer trust my instincts, especially after the mistakes that have cost me too much.

    I thought Andermis would turn me around, then hug me tightly, or say sweet whispers that I could not refuse and had to accept. But I am wrong. I thought Andermis would do what I secretly wanted, but he was always a noble and better man. He sighs and says, "I''m sorry..."

    Do I feel disappointed? To some extent, I wanted to hear him try to persuade me. If only once, Andermis would tell me his true feelings, his plans, and desires. I shake my head, abandoning my thoughts, and then wander out of the room.

    Every night, when everyone was asleep, I woke up with myself, my inner self, and emotions. Have I realised anything for the past few months of struggling to survive in this large but lonely house? Only one word: loneliness. The wind of loneliness flooded into the room, leaving only me and Francine, I felt deserted. Everytime I awoke at midnight and went to Francine''s crib, the beautiful baby sleeping soundly with a peaceful expression. I lightly touched her dimpled cheek with my finger, then recoiled, fearing I might wake her. Francine is my precious medicine, my treasure, and my saviour from this sinful soul. Without her, I would have long been submerged in a sense of loneliness and emptiness. But when she grows up, who will I have by my side? I act as though nothing else matters but my daughter, but deep down I care about other aspects of life. I just want to be a normal woman, living a normal life with the man I love and our children. But it seems that can only happen in my dreams.

    I walk towards the staircase to return to my room. Francine is probably about to wake up, and the little girl will certainly demand milk, so I have to go up and prepare in time. Family members are still decorating for the Christmas dinner in the evening. Guests will come to visit in the afternoon, and the dinner will be for family members. I do not have any interest in these parties, but as the wife of the heir of the Morten family, I have to be present.

    The parked car outside shows that my husband has returned. I smile slightly, thinking that my husband would be so indifferent that he would not care about the most important holiday of the year while being with that woman. But Augustin is nothing to me anymore except for the title on the marriage certificate, and I quickly push aside the image of him. I do not consider myself a saint, as reality has shown that I am not, and I never will be her, but that does not mean I have to forgive what he has done. Anna sees me walking up the stairs in a hurry and asks:

    "Lady is about to give little Francine her milk?"

    "Yes," I stop in the middle of the stairs, surprised to see Anna holding a tray of pastries. "Why?"

    "Nothing, my lady," Anna shakes her head. "Master Augustin took little Francine to the study earlier. If you want to find her, please go to the study."

    "Why is my daughter with the master?" I look at the maid with a sceptical face. "Do you know why?"

    I walk down the stairs, getting closer to Anna to find out. The maid gently replies:

    "I don''t know. But the master went with a friend of yours."

    "My friend?" I am surprised.

    "Yes, your reading partner, miss Francine."

 Chapter 17 - The Last Christmas (3)

    My heart is boiling like a burning fire, hastily I run into the study, trying to restrain my anger so as not to become a murderer. I fear I will not be able to control myself and do something foolish. But how can I, when my daughter is now witnessing the most abominable things a father or a mother can do?

    I open the door and immediately the unbearable scene rushes into my sight. Francine is trying to comfort my daughter, while my husband stands by and watches. His smile is genuinely happy and sincere, and I am not even sure if he ever smiled at me like that. Seeing me, Francine becomes cautious and hands my daughter back to my husband. She is not like the "mistresses" in the stories I have read. Francine actually has a virtuous appearance and a broad education. She does not behave arrogantly or conceitedly like a beautiful woman. She is like a younger, more obedient, and perfect version of myself. Francine is the counterfeit of the Fiona of the past, perhaps that is why my husband cannot get over that woman.

    Francine steps forward to me, trying to act calm, but behind the pink powder is a worried look. Augustin just stands behind, silently observing the two women facing each other. Francine smiles at me and greets, "Mrs. Morten, long time no see..."

    Without letting her finish her sentence, I immediately slap Francine''s hand hard. I no longer care about what they will say about me, only my daughter matters. I can accept Augustin sleeping with her, wherever, in the office or right in this house, in front of or behind me. Since I found out about their relationship, I never said a word. But there is only one thing I cannot accept, which is to let my daughter be close to their shameful story. I will not tolerate or condone that action.

    Augustin hastily holds his child with one hand and embraces his lover with the other. He looks at me angrily and exclaims, "Fiona! What''s wrong with you?"

    "Ask yourself, Augustin!" I retort. "I don''t care what you two do, but don''t involve my daughter!"

    My maid has observed everything. Seeing the story escalate, the young girl suddenly becomes flustered. Augustin quickly helps his mistress sit on a chair, not forgetting to comfort his delicate lover. Behind her fragile appearance, she is a scheming woman. My husband may not realise or care, but I can see it clearly. As a woman in the same position, I know her well.

    Augustin hands my daughter back to Anna and instructs her to take her to the room. Francine then follows my husband''s orders and leaves, leaving only the two of us in the spacious room. My husband locks the door tightly and remains silent for a while, while I have no choice but to stand and stare at his back. It has been a long time since we have had time together, and it seems that Augustin''s body has become more robust than before. I can see that his shoulders are broader, and his arms are bigger under his shirt. I am also the same. When we are no longer a burden to each other, we both develop in a more positive and happier direction. I do not consider my current life perfect, but there are no longer as many lows as before. As for Augustin, I am sure he is very happy with his lover. He has obedience and a weak woman who depends on him. He has everything he could not find in me.

    Augustin stands still, with a pensive expression as he contemplates something. His hand rubs against his smoothly-shaven chin. I am familiar with that gesture. The last time I saw it was the night we argued, also the night I gave birth to Elizabeth. Suddenly and without warning, Augustin hands me a slap without a hint of sympathy. I collide with the bookshelf, then fall onto the floor. The books on the shelf are jolted and fall like apples, hitting my head and back. One of them strikes my hand and spine. A cracking sound echoes as if signalling that my bone has been broken. I am in such pain that I cannot speak. I clutch the injured hand, even though I know there is a bookshelf behind me, I still unconsciously retreat behind. I thought I was strong enough to face my husband''s violence, but how could I know how strong the waves could be in a violent storm.

    My face is filled with terror. The closer Augustin gets, the smaller I become. He carefully picks up a large book from the shelf, and I assume he will not read it now, that it is intended for me. My face turns grey. I immediately think of shouting for help, but suddenly my whole body stiffens and I cannot do anything. I can only look up and see my husband approaching with a thick book of nearly a thousand pages in his hand, ready to hit me at any moment. I hold my breath and listen to the ticking of the clock on the wall. Tick-tock. Tick-tock...

    The constant knocking and loud calls of Andermis from outside the door distract my husband. In a moment, I suddenly feel relieved and full of hope. When my husband puts the book down, I finally dare to breathe again. Augustin steps out to open the door with a not-so-happy expression. The two brothers face each other with the animosity that has been going on for so long. Augustin growls in his throat, asking, "Are you here to meddle with my wife again?"

    "I''m here to stop you from doing foolish things that cannot be undone," replies Andermis.

    Andermis replies succinctly. At first, he manages to maintain some composure, but when he sees me sitting on the floor with my hands throbbing, Andermis immediately runs inside to check on me. Overwhelmed with emotions, I cannot help but hug him tightly. Once again, Andermis comes to me when I need him the most. I feel so small and completely helpless without him here.

    Andermis wipes away the tears from my face and at the same time, concernedly holds my hand that is now red and oozing fresh blood. I am still not entirely calm, but I can clearly hear his heart beating faster than ever. Worried, Andermis asks softly:

    "How are you feeling?"

    "It''s alright, Andermis. Just a minor scratch ..."

    "Oh, can we not act out this intimate scene anymore? My younger brother and my wife, cuddling each other right here in this house, and in front of me. Aren''t you two embarrassed?"

    Augustin''s smirk and teasing are like adding fuel to the fire just when Andermis is trying to control his frustration. Immediately, he stands up and punches my husband in the face. My husband staggers and falls backward. Sneering at his older brother, Andermis says:

    "Here''s the punch back from that day. I should have punched you earlier, big brother!"

    Augustin swears and real anger takes hold of both men. My husband rushes in to retaliate, but Andermis is one step ahead. I stand on the side watching the two men fight, with no intention of interfering. I would if Andermis were in the lower position, but that does not happen.

    After dodging several punches, Andermis adds another punch straight to my husband''s nose, and without saying much, I can feel the pain even standing outside. In a moment, I suddenly forget the pain in my hand. Andermis makes me feel something new. He heals me.

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    The "martial arts battle" between the Morten brothers was witnessed by all the family members through the open door. Of course, just a few minutes after the quarrel, it came to my mother-in-law''s attention. Mrs. Rose''s expression is visibly angry as she is standing right infront of the study. Seeing her silhouette from afar is enough to make me tremble. Throughout the life of Mrs. Rose, the one word "reputation" is most important to her, yet now her two sons and daughter-in-law have done something shameful in front of others. I silently pray that the mansion will not collapse before Christmas.

    She enters the room and looks at her two sons and me with judgmental eyes. Andermis and Augustin are silent. She says nothing, gently closes the door, and everything in this room will stay in this room forever, never to leak out even a fraction. Her two sons, both large and dignified, now appear small and insignificant. Without a word, Lady Rose gives each of them a loud and sharp face slap. I fear she will also hit me, but she only glances at me before turning away. My mother-in-law is the queen on the chessboard, and everyone else is completely useless before her.

    "Two sons: one is the vice chairman of one of London''s largest banks, and the other is a lawyer studying abroad. Too much for one person to pursue such an education, yet they behave no differently than the vendors outside the market. Is that what we taught you?"

    Andermis remains silent, while Augustin cannot blame all the mistakes on his younger brother. My husband complains to her, "He and Fiona were sneaking behind my back."

    "And you didn''t even hide his shameful behaviour with another woman. Yes, I know everything!"

    Her words are precise down to the punctuation, even though I only hear it like that. For the first time since I was married into this family, Lady Rose took action to protect Andermis and me, as well as exposing Augustin. I know that Andermis and I will soon step up to her horse''s stirrup, but my mother-in-law has truly taken an unexpected step, and I completely respect her for that.

    Augustin is berated to the point where he dare not say anything. My husband obediently keeps silent like a little kitten. My mother-in-law continues, "I don''t care what happens between you and Fiona, but she is still your wife and a daughter-in-law of the Morten family. I turned a blind eye to your illicit relationship, but I won''t ignore it if it affects the reputation of this house. Hide those love affairs in a glass case like a statue or a pet, I don''t care. I don''t want to hear any more gossip!"

    We listen to every word of her admonition, and even if we disagree, we do not dare say anything. Then she kicks her two sons out of the room, leaving only me with her. Andermis is still hesitant before leaving the room, unsure about leaving me alone with his mother. Lady Rose is full of grace, clasping her hands together and asking, "Do you have something to say?"

    Andermis cannot resist the influence of his mother. My mother-in-law never misses an opportunity to use her title "Queen of Thorns". But that could not stop Andermis from protecting me. With no other option, I nod at Andermis as if to assure him, and only then does he leave. When the door is closed, I have to steel myself to face my mother-in-law. Lady Rose walks up to me and looks at me for a while, then focuses on the wound on my hand. She lifts my hand and examines it, and I could not guess the meaning of her expression. Then she lets go of me, walks to the cane, and sits down, then gestures for me to sit across from her. Queen of Thorns is probably the same age as my mother, but she looks youthful and sophisticated. Gently, she begins the conversation, "I have heard a few stories about you and Fiona."

    "Yes..." I replied softly, listening attentively to her.

    "An exemplary woman. A noble woman with an admirable education. A happy and progressive family. A dutiful believer. And a loyal lover."

    The woman lists every aspect of my being with a gentle touch, exposing me like a naked body before many eyes. I bow my head, looking at the two shoes that have peeled off a piece of skin, as well as the ant carrying a piece of cake next to them. I try to organise my thoughts to be able to answer her, but I do not know what to say. My mother-in-law continues:

    "I don''t like you, Fiona. I haven''t liked you since Augustin introduced you to me, and it''s still the same now. Among the girls I approve of, you have never been on that list. But Augustin, my son, only wants you. Even though it knows that you and the butler''s son love each other, it still insists on waiting."

    "He tells you, Mother?" I ask in amazement.

    "I know everything, Fiona," she smirks lightly. "If I had strongly opposed it from the beginning, things would not have escalated to this level. But we all have to face our decisions, don''t we?"

    I remain silent and do not reply. The conversation between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law has never been comfortable, but today I will try to listen to her. Mrs. Rose continues:

    "At the moment you wrote the letter in response to Augustin, I was sure that you were a person who thought about the big picture. Lamstrong, a name from the remnants of feudalism, may have faded away, but I know that inside you are still very strong. You are one of us, representing this class. I know you have never loved Augustin, but you chose to marry him instead of that boy for yourself."

    "I did it for my family, not for any other reason!" I hastily correct her words. I suddenly become agitated hearing those words.

    "Oh, Fiona, don''t think everyone is as naive as my son. You didn''t do it for your family, but for yourself. Your father''s shadow is too big for you to realise that you are the one who needs that thing called ''family heritage''. You don''t love anyone but yourself and your ideals."

    "I do not know what you are saying, Mother!" I turn my face to the side, trying to avoid her gaze. I do not agree with what she says, nor do I object. On the contrary, I begin to ponder what she is saying. I feel strange as a part of me somewhat accepts each sentence, each word of hers. Could my mother-in-law be right?

    Suddenly, my mother-in-law stands up. She smooths out the creases on her black and blue dress with her hand. Calmly, she says, "I know about my husband''s adulterous affairs behind my back, and not just recently, since the early days I knew. But I kept quiet and lived up to my reputation. I only hope you remember one thing, you are a Morten, and a title is the most precious thing a person can possess. Keep it and do not destroy it."

    I am surprised by her calmness when she mentions my father-in-law''s infidelity, which also explains her nonchalance towards Augustin''s situation. The biggest difference between the two is that my father-in-law keeps everything very secretive, and the rumours are completely unfounded without any certainty or affirmation. Lady Rose steps to the door. Her hand rests on the doorknob. I see her twist it, but then let it go. She turns around and looks at me, feeling confused in her mind. Before I can defend myself, she says one final sentence: "As for the matter between you and Andermis, I don''t know what stage you two have reached..."

    "We are nothing to each other...," I explain.

    "Well, that''s good. But I often encounter things that contradict their essence, so I will also remind you of a few things. Fiona, from the beginning, you have had your choice. You did not choose the butlerˇŻs son, you did not choose Andermis, you chose Augustin. Augustin only!"

    Her words ring out clearly like a church bell. They are like a sound that purifies the soul and awakens someone from a dream. She reminds me once again of my choice, of what I have sacrificed and traded. She reminds me of who I am. I am no longer an ordinary woman. I am Fiona Morten, wife of Augustin and mother of Elizabeth and Francine. I possess no alternative choice but to live in accordance with my true identity. And that identity shall remain exclusive to Augustin alone, without exception, not even Enzo or Andermis.

 Chapter 17 - The Last Christmas (4)

    I have missed so many parties since Francine was born, even forgetting the taste of expensive brandy bottles. I sit in a corner of the reception room, quietly enjoying Mrs. Patmore''s famous caramel cakes, and answering the greetings of the gentlemen and ladies. I look around the room and do not see a trace of Francine anywhere, I guess Lady Rose has taken care of everything. Then I turn to my husband who is sitting at the same table with his friends, but with a rather dissatisfied attitude. Once again, our fate is tied together, even though we are both ready to separate. The Morten name has been destined to be attached to my life forever. I cannot wash myself clean, no matter how hard I try. My mother-in-law''s words suddenly come back to me. I see her sitting across from her friends in her club, but somehow I feel like she is whispering in my ear.

    The orchestra starts playing the first notes, and the couples begin to hold hands. I breathe heavily. I do not know when I started to hate the dances. A step is never beautiful when dancing with the wrong person. I cannot remember how to take the right steps, because they have been stiff since the day I got married. I will not be able to find anyone suitable to dance with anymore.

    Andermis in his cream white outfit steps in front of me. He reaches out his hand, with an expectant expression. My chest suddenly becomes restless. My hands itch, both wanting to grab his hand and trying to restrain myself. Andermis has never faded in his thick, solemn and elegant suits. In the first moment, I seem to be standing still before his invitation. The space around me seems to stop moving, and only my heart responds to him.

    "May I invite you to a dance?"

    I can imagine myself and him dancing together on the beach, with swaying palm trees under the shadow of the setting sun. Seagulls soar, lazily dozing on the clouds. Carefree crabs dig into each small grain of sand, waiting for the day to build a sturdy sandcastle against the crashing waves. I can see myself holding his hand tightly, without hesitation, fear, or haste, but slowly savouring every note of the music. I see everything, even though what I see is merely the result of imagination, desire, and on the threshold of reality. I want to grab his hand, but I cannot. I am not granted the right to do so.

    I bow my head, trying to link my thoughts, finding a reason to seize that chance. Andermis patiently holds out his hand in front of my eyes. The music still echoes, and people continue dancing, indifferent to anyone else. The dim yellow lights make people feel tipsy, and alcohol is the catalyst that takes us to another space. I silently gaze at him, with a mind like a moon split in half. What should I do? Will the band stop playing for a while, and people stop dancing, so that I can concentrate and find my answer? Like a vulture perching on a tree branch, waiting for the tiger to leave the flesh and the bones of the poor deer, Lady Rose sits across from me, her eyes fixed on every move I shall make. To my right, my husband sits drinking without caring about anyone. It seems that no one in this room can give me the answer, so I have to draw my own conclusion. I close my eyes, trying to listen to the flow of time in my blood and memory. I should be the only one to know what to do. No one but me should recognise the limits of oneself, and the best thing I can do is to redeem my mistakes.

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    I raise my face, and his hand is still there, while the music continues to play. Andermis beams with hope when he catches my gaze. He knows that both he and I want to dance to this tune. Everything is set: a broken marriage, a pre-existing affection, a party with alcohol and music, a plausible excuse for those with affection to hold hands... The only thing that is missing is willingness. Will I be willing to take his hand?

    "I am sorry... but I think I will dance with my husband."

    Resolutely, I stand up and walk towards my husband, who is sitting with his group of friends. I dare not look back, for I am also pained by my decision. I want to cry right now, it would be easier than trying to hold back the tears, but I cannot do that. I cannot feel horrified dancing with my legal husband on Christmas Eve. I cannot do that when my name is already on the marriage certificate. There are so many things I cannot do, but hurting others is still something I am good at.

    Augustin stands up when he sees me coming back to him. My husband''s face shows some surprise when he sees that. I have to pretend that I am truly happy with my husband. Over time, everyone becomes a good actor. Now I can smile at anyone. Without letting Augustin say anything, I step forward and kiss him. I close my eyes, and the tears flow back in. I feel happy. I have to be happy. And I pretend to be happy.

    "Dance with me..."

    I whisper in his ear while hugging Augustin''s large body. Everyone in the room, including the band, stops for a moment. At first, my husband is still hesitant and passive, but then he quickly leads me to the centre of the room. The conductor observes the situation, then signals the drummer to start the opening notes, followed by the rest of the band playing the melody. The people around continue to dance. I cannot see Andermis anywhere, and suddenly a feeling of emptiness spreads throughout my body. Each step of mine becomes ponderous, and the floor seems to be lined with frozen nails. I see Lady Rose smiling with satisfaction, and I think it is a righteous thing. But why does it hurt so much?

 Chapter 17 - The Last Christmas (5)

    I cannot face Andermis directly, let alone speak a word to him. Throughout the evening party with the family, I can only surreptitiously glance at him when he is focused on something else. The only thing I cannot endure is Andermis'' lack of concern. I can see the pain in his heart and in myself, but that face cannot show anything. He still drinks, eats cake, and even laughs when Augustin tells a silly joke. And when he inadvertently catches my gaze, the only thing he appears, is nothing. No anger, no sadness, or reflection, just himself. Isn''t that a good thing? After all, what am I waiting for? That someone else will be willing to destroy their life just for my selfishness?

    Christmas Eve has ended, and we all return to our own cage. My husband feels a little dizzy from the amount of alcohol he drank, so he goes to the room first. I just finished breastfeeding Francine, but my mind was as confused as a tangled thread. I cannot think clearly. I have never felt as indecisive as I do now. I broke up with Enzo in just one conversation, married Augustin in just one day, and decided to let go of my obsession with Enzo in just one night... I seem to have never lost my direction like this before. I look at Francine sleeping soundly after being fed, perhaps that is the only consolation for me throughout the day. I cannot stop thinking about Andermis, about the dance I missed. Like an invisible force pushing me, I suddenly stand up and open the door. I look towards Andermis'' closed door, and my heart suddenly tightens. I feel like an opportunity has opened up for me, but like every time, I let it slip away. Heartbroken, I just want to go back to my room immediately, and if I still have tears left, I will be crying for a while. But I am afraid that even my tears are no longer enough.

    The door suddenly opens and my feet are frozen on the floor, unable to take another step. I turn around and catch Andermis changing into his night clothes, holding an empty water bottle. He looks surprised to see me still awake and asks, "Fiona, haven''t you slept yet?"

    I hesitate and shake my head. "I just finished nursing Francine. I can only sleep when she is sound asleep."

    Andermis smiles but says nothing more. He seems like a different person after that incident, as if he has completely erased my existence from his mind. I can accept being disliked or hated, but being forgotten as if I never existed is a judgement against me. Andermis nods for a greeting and walks away. I expect him to say something, but only a cold feeling responds to me. I cannot help but ask, "Where are you going?"

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    Andermis gently replies, "I was thirsty and finished all the water. I didn''t want to bother anyone, so I went to get more."

    "Tomorrowˇ­", I grip my hands tightly and anxiously speak up.

    "What about tomorrow?"

    I take a deep breath and silently pray for an answer that will help me sleep well tonight. "Will we continue studying tomorrow?"

    "Of course! Why wouldn''t we?" Andermis responds immediately.

    "I just thought the incident this afternoon might affect us..." I smile and answer.

    "Oh, why would that matter?" Andermis laughs mockingly, as if it''s nothing. In that moment, I hope he stops at this sentence. I did not know that everything would take a turn for the worse, worse than anything I could have imagined. For so long, no matter how many lessons I have contemplated, I have never become wise. I am still a little woman in a vast world that I thought I had mastered in the palm of my hand. I have never known anything, and even now, it remains the same!

    Andermis steps up the stairs and stands in front of me. He towers over me, his size never failing to amaze me. I had been thinking of something else, of something I desire, but nothing happens. Andermis only chuckles softly, as calm as the autumn stream and the falling maple leaves. Gently, he says, "You are my sister-in-law, what could affect this relationship?"

    I am left speechless by Andermis'' words. I do not know how to reply because those were the same words I had said to him. As the proverb goes, you reap what you sow, and I may have found my reward!

    I only manage a slight smile instead of a response and the end of the story. I turn and head towards my room. However, as I place my hand on the door handle, something inside tells me to stop. I do not know if Andermis is still there or not, but it no longer matters. I turn and walk back to my old room with Augustin, where my husband is probably sleeping soundly. I hesitate and wonder if I should open the door, but after thinking of what happened earlier, I have no other choice but to go inside.

    How can one lose so much in such a short amount of time? This Christmas, I have lost the last person who did not hate me and the only one who made this heart tremble...

 Chapter 18 - His Pocket Watch (1)

    On April 15, 1914, at Paddington Cemetery.

    I hesitate to step down, trembling at the sight of a family of three coming out from inside the cemetery. The woman takes heavy steps as if she''s about to fall and has to rely on the man next to her to support her. I think she''s about my age, but the pain and suffering have made her look much older. They are probably a couple, looking devastated and dejected. Perhaps they, like me, are here to bid farewell to their children. Today is the second anniversary of Elizabeth''s death, and my beloved Enzo''s, and I thought I had felt calm, but the underlying sadness is still haunting me.

    The driver still waits patiently, but I''m still not ready to take a step. My husband is no better off either. We are not yet completely ready to face this reality. Francine is only six months old, and her older sister is still in her fifth month. My dear Elizabeth, it all seems like yesterday!

    After a while, I finally made up my mind to get out of the car. Though it hurts me deeply, I cannot change the cruel reality. My Elizabeth did not survive the harshness of fate, and she never even opened her eyes to see the sun. This world is too heavy for a living being. I love my little girl so much, and I will keep her image in my heart forever.

    I wrap my arms around Augustin, quietly retreating into a deep breath. I look up at the cemetery sign, and a gust of wind blows across my face, making my veil flutter. I swallow a mouthful of saliva, then hide inside, bringing all my emotions and sorrows with me. Then, I take off the veil because it no longer holds any meaning. I wore it on the day my father died, as well as the day Elizabeth was laid to rest, to express my condolences. I have learned to accept, and I will face my daughter with this very face.

    My husband and I walk past rows of stone plaques on both sides of the road. There are new and old plaques, some grass-covered, and some so faded that their names are no longer visible. I once read somewhere that the scariest feeling is not death, but being forgotten after death. One day, these gravestones will no longer be tended to, or remembered, and they will return to being a smooth stone surface with a bit of moss clinging to it. Suddenly, I feel afraid. I fear that I will die with nothing to remember. No name, no title or achievement, I will die in oblivion, and my gravestone will simply be an uncarved rock.

    I stand before my child''s grave. Even though I have prepared myself mentally, tears still fall when I see the words "Elizabeth Morten" on the stone. Someone has visited my child''s grave before me, with flowers and a folded paper crane. I quickly recognise who that is because that person had also given me something similar. I quietly bow and place a gentle kiss on the gravestone. My husband can only stand to the side and watch. During the time I clean the grave, he stands still without any movement, even though I know that Augustin, more than anyone else, was the most hurt when Elizabeth died. He still torments himself over our eldest daughter''s death. He cannot love our younger daughter Francine in the same way he loved Elizabeth, but I believe that a large part of his emotions is the result of guilt.

    I place on my child''s grave, next to the flowers and the paper crane, the things that my mother, her aunts, and uncles had given to her. A short story book written by my sister Thena, a small painting of me and Elise by my youngest sister Diana, and David surprised me by carefully carving a wooden dog for my child. My mother was dedicated to knitting a sweater for little Elise. These gifts were originally prepared for our daughter''s baptism, but Elise had passed away before receiving them. Last year, when we encountered the issue of my pregnancy with Francine, those gifts had to wait for another year. Finally, after two long years, everyone''s thoughts have been given to her. Even my husband has prepared something for Elise. On the fateful night before her death, he had a jeweller make a bracelet for her. The normal shape of the ring resembles climbing ropes with thorn patterns. Augustin dreamt of having a son, but if it were a daughter, he would just rotate the ring in the opposite direction, and the thorns would be replaced by flowers. Four months later, the jeweller delivered the set of rings, but the girl was no longer here to receive it. Augustin stored the jewellery in a drawer and locked it tightly. He had never opened it again until today.

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    As for myself, I did not prepare anything for my eldest child. I do not know why, but I simply could not find a suitable gift to give her. I could think of many things: a new set of clothes, a pair of canvas shoes, or an ivory comb... There were too many choices, but I decided to come empty-handed. Because everything I have belongs to my children, and no gift is worthy of that. However, I did prepare something for someone else who is important to me. Two years ago today, Death took not only one but two people I dearly loved. The book I wrote has now been completed. Keeping it with me makes no logical sense. Instead, I will send it to someone deserving of reading these lines. Although it may be a belated apology, both of us will have to live and die with that.

    I have long stopped hoping that Enzo will forgive me. I guess that is the only thing that will make me feel unfulfilled when I leave, that I will have to agonise over it for the rest of my life. In that book, I gave Fiona and Enzo a happy ending together. They lived their whole lives in a small house by the lake, a vegetable garden, and a chicken coop, with two mischievous children always clinging to them. That was the fairy tale ending for us, and now I am passing it on to them. Only in that world, Fiona and Enzo are immune to the nagging of reality, the erosion of time, and the quagmire of society. Only in that world can they truly have a life. That is the least I can do to redeem myself, even if it is too late.

    A butterfly from nowhere lands on the book I left behind as I prepare to leave. Augustin urges me to return, but my legs feel like they are nailed down and cannot take another step. In my sight, the image of the butterfly grows larger and larger, as if my mind automatically enlarges it. The veins on its four wings remind me of something familiar. It places its curved proboscis on the leather cover of the book. Occasionally, it flaps its wings, and its proboscis moves as if a reader has just finished one page and turned to a new one. Suddenly, many thoughts are mixed together in my head, and some of them make me cry, but not tears of suffering. I feel free and calm. The butterfly suddenly flies to me and lands on my cheek. It extends its proboscis to take that tear as if it were a drop of honey. For so long, I pretended to have shed all burdens and sins; for so long, I thought I had no more worries, but every night when I sleep, I feel myself stranded in the desert of hunger and thirst, without food or water. In this hollow heart, I have never escaped the four walls of the prison. I have never believed that I was truly free until today. Watching the butterfly fly far away, I know I can now end everything. I know I can put down all the chains, complexes, all the suffering and struggling, I know I am free. My lips spread a contented smile, looking down at the paper crane placed on my daughter''s grave.

    The sky is so blue and high, the wind blows horizontally with the colours of the morning sun. I feel this body suddenly light as a feather. I feel love and hope. I feel like I have come alive again. I take a deep breath, trying to feel every movement on this body. Every piece of flesh, every organ, every sensation on every inch of skin. The smell of jasmine in the flower vase around here becomes overwhelming in the space. I wipe away tears with my sleeve, smiling peacefully, and full of happiness:

    "Thank you..."

 Chapter 18 - His Pocket Watch (2)

    On June 29, 1914, at the Aries House.

    As usual, we all go down to the dining room for breakfast at exactly 6 o''clock. When owners like us wake up, the servants have already been up and about for some time, having finished preparing everything. The coal in the stove has been replaced, the glassware, ceramics, and silverware have been polished. Clothes have been ironed and hung up, waiting for us to wake up and change into them. As I descend the staircase, I can already hear Mrs. Patmore shouting at the new kitchen maids for their clumsiness. The steward Franco is busy adjusting the minute hands of the clocks that are slightly off, so that no one will notice. The head housemaid, Mary, greets me as she and two other maids, Andrea and Lyreen, replace the bed linens in each room. The head valet, Bates, takes care of setting up the breakfast table for us. Everything seems to work like clockwork. The tasks are predetermined and are carried out no matter what happens.

    We sit down at the table, and a typical English breakfast is served: boiled eggs, two slices of brown bread with butter and mashed potatoes, a few slices of smoked meat, and plenty of Earl Grey tea. We begin a new day with nothing new. It''s as dull and colourless as all the days before. No one speaks to each other unless there is something of great importance. Today, my mother-in-law is having her breakfast in her room, so only the three of us and my father-in-law are at the table. I sit opposite the Morten brothers, and we quietly have our meal. Our relationship remains normal. Although my husband and I now share a room, most of the resentment has dissipated, and we still take care of Francine together, the affection is definitely gone. My husband and his secretary, Francine, still have a relationship, but at least they have learned to be discreet, and that no longer bothers me. Baby Francine is now my top priority. I don''t care how many other women my husband has affairs with, as long as he becomes a good father, that''s enough for me. Similarly, I only need to fulfil my duty as the eldest daughter-in-law of the Morten family and be a good mother, then that task is also completed!

    Regarding Andermis, I cannot see into his inner self. Andermis actively helps me understand the Law, and sometimes I feel his closeness, although somewhat distant. Although there is no chance to approach him, I still want to find a sign from him. I want to know whether I am still part of his thoughts, or have become invisible forever. Last Christmas, he gave me an answer, but it seems that I am still blindly seeking something else. What is happening to me? Am I ready to make the same old mistake again?

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    The old butler Franco brings us the freshly printed newspaper. The men in the house will read newspapers like The Times and The Guardian, while I am more interested in The Insight because it is where my sister Thena works. Not long ago, Thena officially became the editor-in-chief of that newspaper, which made me extremely proud. Finally, my younger sister has achieved what she has always wished for, and somehow, it has given me more motivation and hope. I still don''t know what I will use all that hope for, but I guess I will have to use it soon.

    The faces of the three men in the house suddenly turn pale when they read the newspaper. Although it is not clear what is happening, when my father-in-law and Augustin exchange glances, I guess it must be a very serious matter and may have a big impact on my family''s work. My father-in-law immediately leaves the dining table, rushes to the office, and my husband follows him closely. Only Andermis and I are left, and his attitude is not any better. At this point, I become anxious because what causes everyone to panic is not just related to work, but it is surely spreading wider. I try to remain calm and ask, "Andermis, what''s going on?"

    Sitting here, I can hear the faint thumping of Andermis'' heart in his chest. He hands me The Guardian without saying a word. In that moment, he simply stands up and walks over to the window. He looks outside, hands in his pockets and worry still lingering. I look at the newspaper, holding my breath as I search for that dreadful news. My eyes widen in disbelief as I read it. As if a goddess of death, the fear within me suddenly rises. Once again, what I cherish is on the brink of slipping away. I am not ready for this!

    The title''s words with their familiar ink scent are clearly legible. Like the daylight, they fill both of my eyes: "The Assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand: Are we at war now?"

 Chapter 18 - His Pocket Watch (3)

    At 10:56pm on August 4th, 1914, at the Aries House,

    My entire family is sitting together in the living room with the radio already turned on. We all express our shock on our faces. Not only us, but everyone living in England is surely anticipating the upcoming moment. Perhaps the only ones who are not worried are little children like my Francine. Despite everyone''s anxiety, the child is still sleeping soundly in her crib upstairs.

    I hold my breath and watch as the minute hand prepares to point at 12, my heart pounding as if it''s about to explode. When the clock strikes 11pm, England will face one of two options: war or peace. Germany''s decision regarding the ultimatum to withdraw troops from Belgium will be made clear in two minutes. In just a few ticks of the clock, we will be able to determine the fate of innocent civilians. Will normal life continue, or will hundreds of millions of people live in fear while British men leave their homes to fight with no prospect of returning? Just thinking about it makes my body tremble. I feel as weak as a starving sick person. The clock still refuses to stop. Tick-tock... Tick-tockˇ­

    A harsh sound emanates from the radio, and the metal bird in the clock cries out. We know that the time has come. I sit between my husband and Andermis, trying to remain calm so that the sound of my pounding heart does not drown out the radio broadcast. I silently pray for what I desire most. It has been a long time since I opened the door of faith in God, and now I am ready to knock hundreds, millions of times, begging to see a saint. We do not need any more battles to take away what little we already have in this life!

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    The announcer speaks the first words, and I need a point of reference to face any possible scenario. How unexpectedly and subconsciously, I grab Andermis'' hand instead of my husband''s, but I am too anxious to realise it.

    "To the people of Great Britain listening to the radio, it is now 11:00 pm, August 4th, 1914. The tension throughout Europe seems to be increasing rather than easing. Germany is still defiantly marching his troops into Belgian territory with an uncontrollable madness, and Britain can no longer accept this situation.

    At 7:00 pm tonight, the British Ambassador, Sir Edward Goschen, sent Britain''s ultimatum to the German Foreign Minister, Gottlieb von Jagow, about withdrawing troops from Belgium. However, despite all efforts by British politicians, the German representative ignored the ultimatum. Overnight, King George V summoned an emergency meeting with the government. And now, I regret to inform the entire people of Great Britain in an official manner:

    We are at war!

    May God protect Great Britain!"

 Chapter 18 - His Pocket Watch (4)

    In September 1914, at the Moderford mansion in the southern part of Cambridge.

    "The uniform looks beautiful, but I don''t like it..."

    It must be said that my husband''s family is extremely wealthy, and their presence can be found throughout the South of England, so it''s not difficult to locate the Morten family. My husband''s family decided to go to the Moderford mansion for one last peaceful month. I notice that Andermis'' door is unlocked, and in a moment of boldness, I open the door and step inside. Andermis is standing in front of the mirror, admiring himself in the military uniform issued by the army. Except for his father, who doesn''t need to go to war, both of his sons, Augustin - my husband, and Andermis - an important person to me, have to go to the front. Thanks to their wide connections, and of course, a huge amount of money, my in-laws have managed to secure positions for Augustin and Andermis that offer a higher chance of survival. Andermis becomes the secretary of General Ross, a friend of my father-in-law, while Augustin is favoured with a position in the army''s medical corps, although I don''t think he knows anything about this issue.

    My younger brother David also received a summons, and he came to my husband''s house yesterday to go with the Morten brothers. My mother and sisters also came to see him off to the battlefield. I don''t have many connections to help David, but my younger brother doesn''t want me to do that. David wants to fight like a real man. My younger brother has vowed to hold a gun to protect the Motherland, and despite being overwhelmed by anxiety and fear, as his older sister, I am obliged to support him. We will be a source of spiritual support for David, so that he knows that there are people waiting for him to come back in the rear, and when the war ends, he will truly return!

    Next to David, there is another person whom I care about the most, Andermis. I am in the same room as him, looking at him from behind as the worry and fear of Andermis fill every gap in the space. Hearing a voice, Andermis initially startles, but then feels at ease knowing it is me. Seeing me, Andermis smiles softly:

    "War makes everything beautiful ugly."

    I slowly walk over to him and straighten his crumpled collar. Andermis stands still like a statue, allowing me to decide how he should look. After finishing, I also remember to brush away the excess threads on the seams. When I am sure Andermis looks the most complete, I gently say:

    "Now you can step out there like any other proud man!"

    "Thank you, Fiona..."

    He smiles gently, and that seems to touch my heart once again. Since the war broke out, the relationship between the two of us has not progressed, but it is no longer as awkward as before. But that is what I fear, like an omen before death. I am afraid of all possible scenarios, as well as fragile hopes that might be reversed. I am more afraid than those who have to go to battle. The front line is crumbling under bullets, while the rear is still full of hope. I dare not gamble anymore...

    "I have this for you..."

    I take out a small gift that I have prepared and agonised over all day yesterday, not knowing whether to give it to him or not. My knitting skills have luckily not faded away after a long time. I knit a brown pouch with a pattern of a crane on the front. It''s small, but it cost me many sleepless nights with my lamp burning. I put it in Andermis''s hand and say, "I don''t know what you like, but I think you will need it. You can put paper, pen, medical bandages, or even fragments of shrapnel in it...," my voice is a little shaky, and a little regretful. "Or the picture of any girl you meet..."

    Andermis takes the bag, unable to hide his happy face. When someone is happy, that emotion will spread to those nearby, but this time, I don''t feel that way. I cannot feel happy as usual and have to face the fact that this could be the last time we meet. This bag cannot keep him here, so I am happy that he likes it, but I am also in pain knowing that nothing can change. "I''m afraid there will be no women in there," Andermis smiles. "But I can carry a picture with me."

    "Just promise me that you will come back in peace...," and as if remembering something, I quickly correct myself. "Two of you... Three of youˇ­ have to come back in peace!" I believe that even the dumbest person in the world can see the clumsiness in my speech. Andermis doesn''t say anything but just looks at me with a smile, and that only makes me more embarrassed. I cannot concentrate if he keeps doing this. There''s no other way, so I slowly walk up to him. At this distance, I can hear our hearts beating hard in our chests. Andermis looks down at me, and I look up at him, for a moment my tongue becomes stiff and I cannot say anything. I hesitate, but I also cannot just stand there. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I have wanted to do this for a long time, but I have also restrained myself so fiercely.  I think even until the end of my life, I will not understand what I want. Strangely, those involved will never understand the essence of this matter. That''s why Eva needed Adam, that she needed someone to understand herself.

    I grasp the collar of his shirt with both hands, then stand on tiptoe and give those lips a kiss, though brief, as if our lips only brush by like a gust of wind over our heads. But I think that''s enough, because like a drug, I won''t be able to keep myself sober for long. I look at his dazed face and say softly, "Consider it my second gift to you. Stay safe and come back to us!"

    But it seems I have underestimated a soul that has been thirsty for too long, or that it is just another petty scheme that I have come up with myself. When I turn around to take a step, Andermis manages to grab my arm and pull me back into his embrace. He holds me tight, and although my words object, my actions show the opposite. Andermis kisses me with a fierce passion that has been buried for so long. Neither of us seems able to resist. Last time I resisted my own desires once, and I don''t want to let go anymore. But when my Francine cries out, I have to push him away again. Even though I now have a nanny to help me whenever Francine needs something, it still doesn''t give me a chance to continue this. I''ve been alone for too long, and love is now extremely rare for me. I want Andermis, but if I have to choose between him and Francine''s attitude towards me in the future, I know what I have to choose.

    "Why are you doing this, Andermis?" I accuse in pain. "I thought you would want some encouragement before leaving, but if my actions have caused a misunderstanding for you..."

    "How could that be a misunderstanding, Fiona? Can''t you see it?"

    Andermis looks at me with a pair of intense, emotional eyes. Something changes incredibly strongly in him at this moment. It is a determination that I have never seen before.

    "I love you, Fiona! I know this sounds crazy, but I''ve had special feelings for you since the first time we met. We are both mask-wearers, we both hide our true selves, and we both have heavy responsibilities. I love you, Fiona. I loved you before I realised that I could not love anyone else!"

    While I continue to try to deny it, Andermis keeps proving his feelings. He walks over and grabs my shoulders with both hands. With a sincere tone, he reveals:

    "I''m sorry for not saying it earlier, I thought I could forget about you. When I realised you were in love with Enzo, I thought I had no chance. I couldn''t use a method to have you like Augustin."

    "Don''t you think it''s too late to say it now?" I now question in anger.

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    "I left England for France, just to forget about you. I married a woman like you, but it didn''t last because she wasn''t you. I pretended to be indifferent when I was rejected for a dance invitation, just to cut off all my feelings for you. But I can''t, Fiona! I can''t forget about you!"

    With his red eyes, he speaks those words. Andermis has been harbouring these feelings for far too long, and they have grown too deep within him. We have both waited for too long for these things to still have any meaning. I grip my neck tightly, trying to hold back my tears, but I cannot. My tears flow down my cheeks, rolling endlessly. It takes me a moment to regain control of my voice. I look at him with regretful eyes and say:

    "It no longer matters, Andermis," I shake my head repeatedly, as if trying to deny this truth. "It no longer matters..."

    "It matters because we love each other, Fiona. That''s all we need!" Andermis steps forward and takes my hand, affirming.

    "I don''t love you, Andermis..." I jerk my hand away from him and step forward, holding onto the headboard as if searching for a foothold to keep myself steady. Because what I am about to say will somewhat kill myself. "I like you, Andermis. You make me feel respected and loved. But I don''t love you, Andermis. We are... brother-in-law and sister-in-law, we cannot move forward..."

    My words make Andermis freeze. His face turns grey, and his expression seems to freeze into a distorted mass. He shakes his head in opposition:

    "How can you say that, Fiona? How can you not see yourself when the whole world has already realised it?"

    "I don''t want to ruin your departure day, Andermis. But please, don''t delude yourself with me anymore. I am not, and will never be the woman you desire. I am a married woman and a mother. Please forget about me!"

    Is there any other way? Run away with him to the ends of the earth, leaving behind the conversations that will burden my family, leaving Francine behind to ponder about the mother who never appeared in her life? I cannot take the little girl with me. How can I separate my child''s biological father from her life? Augustin has done nothing wrong to Francine, so I will be cursed if I do that to my own child, to the man who created her. In other words, I have no way out anymore. No matter how painful it is, I have to let him leave me.

    Andermis bites his lips to prevent himself from going too far in the outburst of emotions. He bites his own hand instead. A drop of blood oozes on his lower lip, and a bite mark is left on his thumb. I know this will hurt both of us, but if we keep going like this, we will not get anywhere. Andermis is right, we are more alike than we think. He and I were destined to be lonely for the rest of our lives.

    He wipes away the tears that are streaming down his face, and the snot that is running down his lips. He lets out a strong scream to contain all the heavy emotions inside. After a while, when he calms down, he looks straight into my eyes and asks, "Do you love me?"

    "Why do you keep asking such questions?" I shake my head and refuse. I want Andermis to stop because I have reached my limit. If we go too far, I will not be able to refuse anymore.

    "I need to know, Fiona!" Andermis insists. "Do you love me?"

    I stare at the floor to avoid his gaze. Francine is growing up, and when the war ends, she will be old enough to understand. Therefore, I must kill this love, no matter how much I want it. I love Andermis. I love him passionately, but I cannot say it.

    I shake my head and look towards a corner of the room, weakly responding:

    "I do not love you..."

    "Look me in the eye and say it, Fiona."

    "Andermis..."

    I hesitantly raise my head to look. As I feared, I almost couldn''t lie to myself anymore. But when I remember it is necessary, I swallow and speak.

    "I do not love you."

    "Even at this moment?", he shakes his head incredulously. "You know this might be the last time we ever meet?"

    "My answer remains the same...", I growl, determined to end everything. "I do not love you."

    Of all the shades of expression, this is the first time I couldn''t determine his true feelings. A little surprise mixes with disappointment, I can still sense a hint of resentment in those blue eyes. Both of us avoid each other after that conversation. He wipes away his tears and mucus before beginning to pack his belongings. I have nothing left to stay here for, but I can''t seem to leave. I stand still in a corner of the room, silently observing every move he makes. Andermis doesn''t show any sign of being broken, but that''s what worries me, because that''s when someone becomes most indifferent.

    "Andermis, please... Don''t act like that!", I plead.

    But what I feared most finally became a reality. He hoists his backpack over one shoulder, puts on his military cap, and looks at me with an expression devoid of any emotion. Now, I''m not just worried about losing him in a romantic sense, but also facing the fact that he might die on the battlefield. The man I''m looking at right now is no different than a soldier with nothing left to lose. I can''t see any willpower emanating from within him. Oh God! What kind of sinful thing have I done?

    Andermis walks past me, and I think he will just continue on his way without saying anything. But when he stands by the door handle, he decides to stop. Andermis turns to look at me, silent as if giving me another chance to speak. But what should I say? I am afraid of hope. I could easily say those three words, because I also feel my affection towards him. But what then? And if I don''t say anything, I may not have another chance to see him again. No matter what I do, I cannot have a perfect ending.

    I just opened my mouth to say something, but Andermis immediately blocks the way. He hands me his pocket watch. I remember this item; Andermis once showed it to me. He treasures it more than ever, always carrying it with him. I remember that if I open the watch face, Satine''s portrait will appear. Surprisingly, Andermis had taken out the picture since I opened it. I look at him with a suspicious expression, but he just gently says:

    "I want you to keep it, Fiona. Keep it safe when I am away. I am not sure if I will be able to come back, but I hope time will help you. That only once in life, you will stop being selfish and accept the truth. Just once, stop thinking about responsibility or duty, but look at yourself, at what you really want."

    "Please, Andermis..." I couldn''t hear these words anymore. The more Andermis speaks, the more I feel doubtful about myself, about the moral system that everyone taught me. I broke the hearts of Enzo, Augustin, and Andermis; I will not hide or deny that. But besides that, how could I be called selfish when everything I do and act for is thinking of others?

    "If I cannot return, find a lonely place to bury it, consider it as me. Keep pursuing your studies, Fiona; someday you will need it. My documents, books, you have the right to use them."

    "Andermis, please don''t speak as if you won''t ever come back...", I step forward in front of Andermis and quickly put the cord of the watch around my neck like a piece of jewellery. My hand is placed on the watch face, and I fix it right over my heart. "I will keep it for you, but I will never bury it. Because you will come back, Andermis. You must not be pessimistic about this matter. I will not remember anything, so you have to be safe to remind me."

    ˇ°I may come back, or may not, only God can answer thatˇ­", he smiles faintly, but the bitterness in his words still exists. "I have to prepare everything before everything becomes a regret. I think you must be the one who understands that the most. To cherish what you have before losing everything."

    Finishing his words, he places a very gentle kiss on my forehead. Something gentle and unburdened by anything. He uses his large finger to wipe away the tear at the corner of my eye. Then, he says goodbye:

    "Be happy, Fiona."

    I stand still watching Andermis descend the stairs. In my heart, I am suddenly moved by his image and his words. How can I calm down when he will leave me? In my life, there have been five men who loved me passionately, but each one left me, some already for good, some may never return. How can I be happy when the good things slip away from my grasp? One day, my mother will also pass away, my siblings will have their own families and their own worries, my daughter Francine will grow up and explore her own life. Only I will stay here, watching my world become smaller and smaller, until I am alone. I ask God, why can He create such a human being to suffer that wound? But like every time I pray or question before, no answer is returned, and I have to face that big question mark myself.

 Chapter 18 - His Pocket Watch (5)

    I carry Francine down to bid farewell to her father and his companions. Unsure if the girl is aware of anything, when I awaken her, Francine does not cry or fuss, but instead becomes surprisingly obedient. Perhaps she too senses the solemn atmosphere in this house and does not wish to burden the mood any further.

    Three men who are about to depart are standing outside in the yard, speaking their last words before getting into the car. Seeing me and the girl, they suddenly stop their conversation. I bring the child to Augustin so that he can hold her. Although I no longer have feelings for him, I am not a heartless mother who would keep my child from seeing her biological father when this may be the last chance for them to meet. Augustin kisses Francine on the forehead, and the child seems delighted. Her tiny, soft hands, like cotton, are mischievous as she playfully touches her father''s face. Francine still cannot speak, but instead makes meaningless sounds, which I assume are sweet words because her small lips are smiling. David and Andermis stand beside them and cannot help but gather around the child. I quietly step back to give the three men some time with the child, silently observing.

    A gentle breeze blows through, bringing with it a sense of comfort to the space. I stand in the middle of my two mothers. Lady Rose seems to have noticed Andermis'' expression, as well as my appearance right after he came down, and the watch chain around my neck. She clears her throat to signal, but I am only concerned with watching the three men taking turns holding Francine. Finally, she is forced to speak up:

    "That watch chain looks good on you. What did you and Andermis say to each other in the room earlier?"

    I clearly understand that it is a riddle, and as always, Lady Rose cannot hide her desire to educate me. I turn to look at her and smile lightly, answering:

    "Just some advice about studying."

    "Is that so?" She nods. "Just know how to control yourself."

    I smile lightly and say nothing more. My hands are clasped together, silently looking towards Andermis. I feel relieved that I can end all the back and forth emotions with him, but that feeling still lingers in my mind. Why can''t any of my choices satisfy myself? I wonder if I try to follow his words, accept what I desire, accept the truth, how will the story end? That hypothesis makes me ponder, because I have never given it a chance to develop. Have I once again ruined everything just because I thought what I just did was right? I don''t know anymore. I never know anything.

    Perhaps my mother has observed the whole story, and understands what her daughter is thinking inside, so she skillfully gestures and pulls me aside. I thought she just wanted to save me from an uncomfortable situation with my mother-in-law, but then she didn''t stop and pulled me to the grassy field in the west. Her son and son-in-law are preparing to join the military, and they can get in the car at any time, so I am extremely surprised by her determination.

    "What''s going on?" I look at her with an anxious look, and there is some excitement as I keep looking at the three men.

    "Just follow your mother," she smiles confidently. "Staying there won''t do any good for you."

    I am contemplating what to say, but then I hold my tongue and accept it. My mother knows what she should do, so I have no further comments. My mother leads me up the windy hill, and as if memories are returning, I suddenly recall the time when I felt happy. My mother lets go of my hand, so I can enjoy the moment by myself. Despite the many unfortunate events that have occurred, my mother always tries to remain calm and be a support for her children. Therefore, I have never thought of disrespecting or underestimating my mother. She is always right about everything. If I had listened to her about Enzo or Augustin''s issues, I would not have gone down this path. The difference between Lady Rose and my mother is that while Lady Rose confines me in a certain framework, my mother guides me to see the essence of the problem and helps me break free from that path. But have I ever listened? Therefore, this time I will open my heart to accept the next lesson from my mother. I hope she can help me out of this deadlock.

    My mother is standing next to me and also joins me in the process of rediscovering myself. She inhales and exhales the cool and refreshing air. Sometimes, taking a break from the chaos of life is the most powerful healing measure that people can reach. We are too busy thinking about ourselves and others, sometimes forgetting that there are still many things around us to enjoy. When I was young, I did not value that at Drevolre estate. When I got married, I could not listen to the wind blowing like this because there was no empty space in London. And now, when I can immerse myself in beautiful nature, life puts me in a situation that I cannot think through. If this is a game of God, I believe that no one can win against Him!

    "Is it too late for me to see these beautiful scenes?"

    "No, my daughter. It is never too late to pause for one moment. Even for someone who seems completely stuck, you can still stop for a second."

    I turn to look at her. It seems that age has caused my mother''s body to shrink. I am now much taller than her, while she seems to be getting smaller every day. The daughter who used to demand her first makeup set is now too bored to put on a little powder or lipstick. My mother gently holds onto my dry hand, her fingers rubbing the protruding knuckles. Calmly, she says:

    "Look at yourself, when did you become so haggard? I can see the worry on your face. I know you don''t know what to do, what to choose, and what to give up. I know you are facing all of those things..."

    Like a tickle that needs to be scratched, I burst into tears and hug my mother as if I were a child again. She does not rush me to express my grievances, instead, she gently strokes my back, patting me like in the old days. I can still feel the warm embrace of my mother. That, a familiar yet strange feeling, intimate but somewhat distant because it has been too long to remember. I cry until there is nothing left to cry, my tears stop flowing automatically. I release my mother and she wipes away the tears that have made my face damp. Indeed, when one can cry like this, it seems that there is no longer any difficulty in expressing oneself. I look straight into my mother''s wise eyes and speak each word seriously:

    "I don''t know anymore, mother. I am so confused! He told me he loves me, but I refused, and now I am afraid I have lost everything. Once again!"

    "He? Are you talking about Andermis?" my mother touches her finger to the gaudy watch I''m wearing on my chest.

    "He''s always concerned about me, always there when I need him. He loves Francine like his own flesh and blood. And above all..." I try to say with a face that doesn''t blush with embarrassment, but in the end, I can''t hide it. "Andermis makes me feel loved and respected..."

    My mother pauses for a moment as if to judge what she has just heard. I think with a person like my mother, she surely understands what her daughter is going through. I purse my lips, excitedly waiting for my mother to say something. But after a while, she calmly asks:

    "Do you love him?"

    At first, I didn''t know how to answer. Even though my mother may have seen through me, admitting that I have feelings for another man when I am already married and even a mother, is not an easy thing. I used to look down on that kind of promiscuity and deception, thinking that the wrong kind of feelings were a mockery of faith. But why now, at the crossroads, do I see myself going in that very direction? I want to shake my head and refuse, but my heart won''t let me do that again. Running out of options, I nod my head sheepishly, holding onto the watch tightly.

    "I think I love him! Mummy, I love Andermis..."

    "Then why did you reject him?"

    "I am a married woman, Mummy. No matter how deep my love for him is, he and I cannot move forward. And how will Francine, that little girl, look at her mother in the future?" I say in frustration. "And you reminded me to face my choice. I chose Augustin, and I can''t turn back now!"

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    ˇ°At that time, you had planned to let your marriage die with Enzo. I love Enzo and I am not hesitating to admit it, but you were not fair to Augustin. Precisely that never-ending affection ultimately destroys your marriage. And whether you accepted it or not, it all was one of your choices, Fiona...

    Each word of my mother is like a nail in my mind. Now I realise that there is no chess piece of God, or any terrible arrangement of other forces, every suffering I have to endure depends on my own decision. It turns out that Andermis is right once again, when he realises my essence. Selfishness, delusion and blindness are the root of my human being. How can a person be so bad that they have to rely on those outside the circle to expose the play they have mastered?

    I don''t know what to defend anymore, because like an actor who has lowered the curtain, I no longer have any lines to say. I walk to a nearby large rock and sit down, letting the cool wind blow my hair that I had tied up. My mother sighs softly, but not heavily. She sits down next to me and grasps my hand tightly. She gently rubs them to warm them up. I can clearly feel the rough spots on her hand. My mother continues to help me out of the tunnel of deadlock with gentle and profound words:

    "I know Robert''s death is a big shock to you. But do you know, I don''t think that poverty has taken away your father''s will to live. It was him being so worried about becoming a burden and a disappointment in the eyes of me and his children."

    "I sometimes think that I am like him, tormented by the loss of his legacy," I say with regret. ˇ°But it seems that I am the only one who thinks so.ˇ±

    "Don''t be too hard on yourself, my daughter. Your father and I were married for twenty-two years, I know how much he loved and cherished his estate. But I also know that there was something he loved more than anything else, and that was the happiness and laughter of his children."

    "Is that true?" I ask, even though I already believe it. Sometimes we do things blindly just because we want to.

    "Before he married me, his estate was his greatest legacy. Before he had children, I was his greatest legacy. And when he had you, his family became his greatest legacy. It''s just a shame that everything happened too fast, and the burden on his shoulders was too heavy, he couldn''t think clearly."

    "I sometimes think of my parents'' love story like a fairytale," I chuckle. "It''s unbelievably beautiful."

    My mother can''t help but laugh as well. Even though the wrinkles around her eyes are visible, they are proof that she is happier than ever when she thinks back to that time. She slowly takes off her wedding ring and shows it to me. There''s a line of text engraved inside the ring. My eyes light up when I see it. Almost instinctively, I repeat the words unconsciously:

    "No second-guessing..."

    "Do you know, in fact, I was just your father''s second guessing" my mother chuckles softly.

    "Really?" I am surprised.

    "Yes," she nods. "Your grandparents did not like me. At the time, I was just the daughter of a common accountant. Lady Adelain, your grandmother, had her sights set on Lady Beatrice, the daughter of Sir Harry Nesser. Beatrice was known as a legend of beauty and talent. She was very good at poetry, while I didn''t know anything about it, and my looks were not as good as others."

    "Why did Daddy choose you then?" I ask boldly.

    "Robert saw my rebellion, something that neither he nor Beatrice had," she explains. "I was not like them. I did not have a noble background. I did not have a large fortune. I was not even more beautiful than anyone else. But I was true to myself. I was the opposite of your father and her."

    "People say that only when two opposite people can be together for a lifetime," I suddenly quote a saying from someone or a book that I can''t remember the name of, but I find it suitable for this conversation.

    "Yes, but not always. You have to be different, but then you have to know how to control yourself to create harmony. You can''t always show yourself, it would end up creating a feeling of indifference and disgust for each other," she adds.

    "And after that?" I ask.

    "Your grandparents threatened to remove your father''s name from the inheritance if he married me," she replies calmly.

    "But isn''t he the only child? "I am surprised. "Did he accept it?"

    "If so, how could we have you and your siblings?" My mother laughs at my naivety. "At first, Robert also hesitated a lot. He and I even stopped for a while. He also began to learn about Beatrice, and I was seeing another man. Uncle Ramon, remember? My once lover!"

    "Now I understand his attitude towards you?"

    "But then we both felt it was not right," my mother''s voice becomes deep when she tells the climax. "Your father decided to give up everything, a title, a future, and even what he valued most: his heritage. He gave up what made him who he is, just to be with the person he loves. Me."

    By now, I realise that this is not just an ordinary story. My mother helps me understand something deeper than a love story between two people: a trade-off. It''s not like what I thought, and certainly not like me, my father chose love and his life over things that could have given him wealth and enjoyment for a lifetime. Why did it take me until now to realise that? I always thought he was too bitter and couldn''t accept losing his inheritance for a lifetime of that choice. This time it was my mother-in-law who was wise. It turns out that the one who loves this heritage, who cannot live away from that estate, or endure poverty, is me, not my father. How could I be so wrong?

    "Do you think your grandparents finally gave in?" My eyes start to water again as I realise my mistake.

    "They just want your father to be happy, that''s all, Fiona..."

    Seeing me about to cry, my mother gently embraces me, allowing this comfort to continue to warm me. My mother continues to speak:

    "Robert didn''t think that his death would lead to all this. He just wants you to be happy. That''s all he''s ever wanted in his life. And now both your father and I have to face the unhappiness of each of our children."

    "I''m sorry... I didn''t think I could make everything worse! Daddy will never forgive me," I cry out as if I want to shed tears. I''m too regretful! Oh my God, how can I change everything now?

    The wind whistles through the rocky crevices. My mother places her hand on my chest, feeling the thumping of my heart. She takes my hand and places it on top of hers, and I hear the beat of my heart from both my ears and my hands. With a compassionate and loving look, my mother smiles and instructs me:

    "Listen to your heart, Fiona. Listen to it, then confront it with honesty. I regret what happened between you and Enzo, but please do not repeat that mistake with Andermis. Some things, once lost, can never be regained. This could be the last chance, do not waste it."

    "But..." my heart is ready, but a knot in my consciousness still pulls me back. If I don''t handle it, I will still be stubborn and irrational. "What about my dignity? What about my daughter? What if Francine hates me?"

    "Doesn''t your legal studies with Andermis mean anything, Fiona?" My mother''s strength is truly the guide for a daughter like me. "As for Francine, instead of assuming how she feels about you, why don''t you ask yourself how she would feel if she saw her mother unhappy? Why torture yourself for something that hasn''t happened yet, and may not happen at all? Treasure the present, Fiona. Francine will understand, you don''t have to worry about that."

    Immediately, I feel as if I am reborn. My soul feels as if it has been cleansed by holy water that can wash away my wrong and foolish thoughts. I embrace my mother tightly instead of thanking her, then immediately stand up and run to where everyone is gathering. I must tell Andermis about my thoughts. I must redeem this mistake. I have lost the man I love and one who loves me sincerely, I will not let him slip away from my life again. I need him to come back to me! I need Andermis to return to my arms! I have been too infatuated and blinded by what I believe. I have let my reason control me for too long without questioning whether it is right. No! Not again! This time I will listen to my heart! I will run to hug him! Regardless of whether everyone can see! I will embrace him, kiss him, and tell him that I have loved, am loving, and will love him passionately! I will not waste my life anymore! I will live my life to the fullest! And I will enjoy it with the man I love!

    But why, why is it that every time I want to turn around, the world operates in the opposite direction? I scream like a crazy woman chasing after a moving car that''s getting further and further away from me. My hair flows with the wind, tears falling up to the sky, with bruised knees and arms from falling on the road. The wheels keep running and never stop, even though my throat is hoarse from injury. Don''t go! Please stop! I haven''t even had a chance to talk to Andermis yet? Please, don''t go! Oh God, please stop that car! I beg you! I beg you...

    Stop, please...

    Please, just stop...

    Just one more minute...

    The wheels keep rolling. The clock ticks away.

    Tick tock.

 Chapter 19 - Prayers (1)

    London, 1915

    The resounding crackle of radio broadcasts echoes along the winding streets, carrying tidings of the Great War. Mothers, wives, and children anxiously follow the fates of their sons, husbands, and fathers. Flags flutter proudly in front of homes, infused with an unwavering belief in the triumph of the British Empire. Countless men of England have forsaken the warmth of their hearths to fight for a loftier purpose. They battle for the elusive concept of "peace" and lay down their lives for the coins tucked away in lofty pockets. The lives of these Englishmen sway precariously upon the barrel of a gun, entangled in the ink-drawn lines of a world map. They were once ordinary individualsˇŞsome potters, blacksmiths, their hands caked in clay and grease; others mere gardeners, wielding a plough or hoe year-round. In one night, they stood up, casting aside all they knew, grasping rifles in their hands. And in one night, these ordinary folks, whose faces were unfamiliar to most, transformed into valiant heroes charging forth for a grand and noble cause.

    During this era, the church became profoundly crowded. Like me, they placed all their hopes in the sacred divinity. Each morning, I leave my house with ease, pedalling my bicycle towards the Amister Abbey. It is the place where Augustin and I exchanged vows. I never thought I would find myself here again, but women like us now have no other recourse but to seek solace in faith.

    Francine has moved past the phase of needing me from morning till night, so now I have more leisure time. My daily schedule has become more diverse. In the early morning, I visit the convent for prayer and then teach basic literacy to the unfortunate children within the church grounds. Afterwards, I devote the remaining hours to pursuing my own interests. I continue my study of law through the documents left behind by Andermis, caring for my daughter in both paternal and maternal roles. I venture outside more often, engaging with a greater variety of people and becoming attuned to the societal changes unfolding around me. I am no longer the Fiona of yore. I am stronger and more resolute. I have even chopped off my once long hair, now only reaching my shoulders. My hair stands tall, adorned with a chiffon scarf atop my head. I have also limited my wearing of long dresses, instead favouring warm-toned trouser suits. It seems that, in the end, I have finally embraced departure from my secluded cave and reimmersed myself in this life. Turns out, there are still many things to cherish and marvel at beyond the realms I once believed existed only in my fantasies.

    <hr>

    I bid farewell to Francine and peddle my way down the end of the street. Today, I wear a cream-coloured trouser suit adorned with vertical stripes, carrying a small bag tucked away in the bicycle basket. I park in front of the abbey, then step inside, not forgetting to leave behind a few freshly baked rolls meticulously prepared by Lady Patmore for the hungry children near the gate. I have become a familiar guest in this place, just like the other women who come here.

    My usual spot is the third row of chairs in the right corner, where I sit alongside another elderly woman. Her name is Madilynn. All her sons have been drafted into the military, leaving her alone in a cold and desolate house. I feel pity for her. At least I still have Francine, my mother, and my younger sisters. Every time Madilynn comes to pray, I see tears stream down her cheeks. We all here are clouded with uncertainty about the return of our loved ones. Even as we pray for them at this very moment, some unfortunate souls are being buried beneath the onslaught of gunfire.

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    <hr>

    As a habit, I pedal my way to the post office to send a letter. I recognize the faces of each person in the office. Every week, I come here to send and receive letters from the front lines. Just at the sight of me, the postal clerk Thomas immediately rummages through the pile of documents to hand them to me, even before I step inside.

    He hands me an envelope, smiling and saying, "This is for you."

    "Thank you, Thomas," I exclaim joyfully, accepting it. It''s a letter from David, my younger brother.

    Despite the smile on my lips, inside, I let out a heavy sigh. Ever since bidding farewell to Andermis as he enlisted, I have been writing letters of inquiry and updates to him every week, but Andermis has never once replied, not even a word. David is not serving in the same division as Andermis, so I cannot inquire much about him either. The only thing I know is that the well-being of the Morten brothers is being maintained through my in-law''s connections. Nevertheless, receiving continuous letters from my younger brother brings me comfort.

    "Still two letters as usual?" Thomas seems overly familiar with my presence. Each time I come, I send two lettersˇŞone to my brother and one to Andermis. I have kept up this habit for a year, even though only David responded.

    "Yes, please," I smile awkwardly, handing him the two letters I have written with all my passion and affection. Sometimes I just want to stop, but I cling to the hope that Andermis will eventually respond to me. After all, it was I who shattered his heart.

    Thomas takes the two letters, carefully noting the sender and recipient. He even knows without reading carefully whom each letter is intended for. He looks at me with eyes full of understanding. He raises his glasses, his eyes shimmering with transparent emotions, gentle yet burdened. He asks softly, "He still hasn''t replied to you?"

    "Not yet," I adjust my words with a smile. "But it''s alright, I''ll keep trying my luck!"

    I bid Thomas farewell and quickly leave the post office. Perhaps I don''t want him to see my teary eyes. The loneliness and indifference I feel are killing me every day. I am also human; I feel discomfort and sometimes resentment. Fifty-six letters, fifty-six wishes, fifty-six acts of atonement, yet not a single one has been reciprocated. Every day, I wake up, embrace the sunlight, and remind myself to live deserving of it. I have tried so hard, but I still don''t feel complete. I want Andermis by my side, not as a haunting ghost I relentlessly pursue. Why can''t I have a love as ordinary as anyone else? Suddenly, I recall the myth of King Midas. His golden touch turned everything ordinary into something precious but also stripped away that which was already valuable.

 Chapter 19 - Prayers (2)

    I continue to pursue my usual activities as the new day begins. After making sure that Francine is peacefully asleep, I leave the house and leisurely ride my bicycle to the monastery. Without prayer, I wouldn''t know how to handle the passage of time. The days become too long, and the war becomes equally relentless. Every day, the radio or newspaper brings us nothing but long chains of bomb blasts or news of captured fortresses and too many young soldiers lying down prematurely. I don''t understand why people sing songs of peace when war is something humans create.

    Today, I sit alone in my usual spot. I look around but don''t see the familiar woman anywhere. Perhaps we have met too many times that I have grown accustomed to her presence. I even know her prayers by heart. Hosen, Andre, Landon, Garrett, and Mason, her five sons, are all of age and health to join the military. Their souls and hearts are too youthful to understand that war is truly a ravenous demon ready to devour them. The fervour in the recruitment speeches has motivated these young men to leave their mother''s embrace. Although we have only exchanged greetings a few times and cannot claim to truly understand each other, I empathise with that woman. I suddenly realise that my pain and loneliness are nothing compared to Madilynn''s. She has never mentioned her husband, so I dare to speculate that he has either died or worse, abandoned her for another woman. In the worst-case scenario, that poor woman might lose her last pillar of support. Just the thought sends shivers down my spine; if it were me, I might not even be able to summon the will to breathe.

    After praying, I prepare to meet the children and teach them how to read and write. At this moment, I face Landry, another young woman who has come to pray for her husband. She and her husband got married just a month before parting ways for the battlefield. Landry approaches me and greets me politely:

    "Hello, are you Lady Morten?"

    "Yes," I respond, quite familiar with this title. "I know you, Landry, right?"

    "That''s correct. We share the same purpose in coming here. I hope your loved one is doing well out there."

    "My brother and husband," I clarify. "And thank you, Landry, it seems my prayers still have an effect."

    "Eddie, my husband, is the same. He''s granted a two-day leave to visit me this Christmas!" the cheerful girl says.

    "Congratulations to you. With Christmas just a month away, you''ll be able to see each other soon!" I reply softly. To be honest, I feel a tinge of envy towards her. Landry''s husband will be able to spend the holidays with her, while I haven''t received anything. I only wish for a response to my letters, let alone the opportunity to be visited.

    It seems that Landry feels she talks too much and forgets something important. She hands me a piece of paper from her pocket and says, "I''m sorry, I get so excited that I forget. I see you here every day, so I think you will be interested in my organisation."

    "An organisation?" I look at the girl in astonishment and then glance down at the small note. The Women''s Association supports families with soldiers, a very common, ordinary, and somewhat lengthy name, but it carries great significance for many people. I quickly scan the call-to-action on the paper. Donations or fundraising activities support and help families in difficult circumstances, widows, homeless children, and elderly parents bidding farewell to their sons as they join the military. Suddenly, I stop and ponder for a moment. I look at the girl in front of me. She is young, just an ordinary woman, seemingly less educated than me. Yet, she has such lofty thoughts, and that impresses me deeply. While I still struggle with unanswered letters, Landry and the women out there see beyond their own losses and empathise with the suffering of others. I admire and feel a sense of shame at the same time. I suddenly become tongue-tied. Then, with deep appreciation, I smile and say, "Landry, you truly inspire me."

    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    "Our men are out there fighting. Women''s fate is to stay behind, and I believe we must do something to help them," the determined girl replies enthusiastically.

    "Has this association been established for a long time? I haven''t heard anything about it," I curiously ask.

    "We''re just in the establishment phase, Lady Morten..."

    "Call me Fiona," I interject.

    "Alright, Fiona. The flyer I give you is just a template for recruiting the first members. We currently have ten, and with you, it''s eleven. We really need influential people like you to join. That way, our efforts have a greater impact. So, Fiona, do you want to join?"

    Landry answers me with determined eyes and unwavering confidence in the importance of her work. I am quickly convinced by the young girl. Smiling warmly, I reply, "Alright, I''ll join. I want to contribute something to those who fight for us."

    "Thank you, Fiona! You have no idea how meaningful this is to our society," Landry exclaims with a jump of joy that she restrains within the monastery. But I can understand her excitement. I see the image of my younger sister, Thena, behind Landry''s enthusiasm. It makes me feel youthful and responsible for this life. And who knows, perhaps when the Lord sees me doing good deeds, He grants me the things I always desire?

    "You should be proud of yourself, Landry. Eddie is a lucky man," I smile and say. "If you need anything, you can come to Aries Manor to find me. Now, I must apologise and attend to the children waiting for me over there."

    I point towards the children waiting outside the door, eager for their daily reading lesson, as a farewell gesture to Landry. She tries to add a few more words in her notebook and bids me goodbye. As I take a few steps, Landry seems to remember something and hurries after me, asking, "Fiona, I forgot, are you coming here tomorrow or will you be busy?"

    "I will come, and I have nothing else to do," I pause for a moment, contemplating to ensure that I am not entangled in any appointments, although it is rare for anything to keep me occupied. "Why?"

    "Then maybe tomorrow you can come with us to visit Madilynn?" Her face suddenly becomes downcast, carrying a gentle sadness.

    "What happened to Madilynn?" My heart feels a small crack. I hold her in high regard, and it would be devastating if anything unfortunate happened to her.

    "Madilynn is fine..." Landry shakes her head, but her face still reflects a melancholy. "But her five sons... They were hit by enemy bombs in the trench where they were stationed... None of them survived."

    The church bells resonate in the air, filling the emptiness with the purity of faith and compassion. Flocks of birds soar across the sky, carrying the hopes of the home front to the frontlines. The hymns resound as a means to chase away the echoes of bombs and the tremors of explosions. We do everything to conceal the brutal reality unfolding, but somewhere out there, with every tick of the clock, another soldier falls.

 Chapter 19 - Prayers (3)

    "The Women''s Association Supporting Families with Veterans? What kind of name is this? A circus?ˇ± My father-in-law puffs on his cigarette, frowns, and tosses a flyer on the table while mumbling obscenities about work. I notice him constantly writing something in a ledger with his hands tapping steadily on the computer, so familiar that he doesn''t need to look up. However, observing him work is not my main purpose today, and we are not close enough to talk to each other. If it weren''t for the matter of my assets, I would never be foolish enough to come find him.

    I sit on the sofa, legs tightly crossed in a ladylike manner, quietly smiling as I swallow his insults. I simply don''t want to make a fuss. I only need access to my accounts to donate to those who truly need it. The Drevolre estate is registered in my name, along with the assets Augustin used to marry me, all of which belong to me. I just never had any need for them. Conveniently, Landry has given me an opportunity to do something meaningful with my substantial wealth. I could have gone to the bank myself to do what I needed, but that would stir up some unpleasant stories about my husband''s family. Moreover, if behind my father-in-law''s cold demeanour still lies a trace of empathy, he may be able to help with his position as the bank''s general manager. Though I don''t consider myself a good daughter-in-law, I know I am a knowledgeable person, and that''s why I discuss it with him instead of making the decision myself.

    "It''s a small organisation with the purpose of raising funds and supporting struggling families in these times," I softly reply, holding a cup of hot tea in my hand. "I just think we should lend a helping hand."

    Then I turn to Lady Rose, who is sitting beside me. I look at her, offering a gentle and serene smile, and slowly say, "Mother''s club can also contribute. We are in need of more resources."

    "What kind of resources are you referring to?" Lady Rose gazes at me with scrutinising eyes.

    "Money, people, food, clothing... Anything can be utilised," I respond, raising the teacup to my lips and taking a sip.

    "I have never heard of this organisation," my mother-in-law dismisses my words without a second thought. I truly admire how she can continue calmly sipping tea without thinking about her two sons out there, while I and these women are trying to do something meaningful for them.

    My father-in-law is no better. Not only does he ignore my efforts to spread awareness, but his action of flicking cigarette ash without a care further confirms that. He speaks in a cold tone, feigning concern.

    "It''s better to stay home instead of getting involved in such matters. Society is already chaotic enough, no need for more meddlesome women."

    Honestly, I feel disappointed by the two of them. They are both knowledgeable individuals, highly regarded and esteemed in society, yet they seem indifferent to such a noble gesture. I let out a long sigh, slowly exhaling. I hastily finish my cup of tea, as if to conclude the conversation. Placing the cup on the table with no attitude, I say:

    "I just wanted to ask if you both wanted to help me in supporting others. But it''s okay, I can use my own money to contribute."

    "What money of yours?" my father-in-law raises an eyebrow.

    "My money," I respond firmly. I emphasise those words once again. "The dowry, the pre-marriage assets, and the post-marriage assets."

    "I don''t think so!" he dismisses angrily. "Those are our family''s assets."

    "They are the assets of the couple, father," I try to maintain my composure in the face of his blatant manipulation. "And the Drevolre estate is solely mine, according to what I remember when I married into this family."

    "I don''t think you''ve read enough books, Fiona."

    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    My father-in-law chuckles mockingly and takes out a fresh cigarette. He lights it and continues to laugh triumphantly as if he had just won a game of chess. Blowing out a puff of smoke, he leans back, arrogantly perched like a king looking down upon the people beneath his golden throne. In a condescending manner, he says:

    "There is no property that belongs to you alone, Fiona," Lord Lionel Morten reaches for a piece of chocolate debris and puts it in his mouth. "Everything is jointly owned by the two of you. And you have no authority to make decisions about them on your own."

    How could I be so foolish not to understand what has been happening right in front of me all this time? It turns out that everything I exchanged before was just a clever business manoeuvre that my father-in-law understood all too well. Lionel Morten truly lives up to his reputation as a shrewd figure in the business world. He knows that in London, regardless of which spouse''s name is on the property, as long as it has legal effect after marriage, it is jointly owned. It means that both Augustin and I have the right to use them or earn money from them, but we no longer have sole decision-making power. I didn''t know this, I wanted to leave the Drevolre estate for my siblings yet now it is associated with the Morten name instead of Lamstrong. Hasn''t my effort been in vain? Haven''t I been deceived into entering an unhappy marriage, only to lose my own name and everything that was once mine?

    "I still have the right to use them."

    I try to maintain calm, although inside me, I am eagerly awaiting an eruption. I wish I had enough knowledge about this before it became an unsolvable puzzle. I have been blatantly robbed, and only with divergent strength can I witness everything unfolding in its current manner. Now, I no longer cry, feeling unjust as before; the only thing I feel is disdain and contempt for these people. How can they be so at ease, setting up all the curtains of this drama? I wonder if, during the night, when they sink into sleep, all these matters will appear and haunt them.

    "I don''t think so, Fiona," Mr. Lionel says, narrowing his eyes. "Your money must stay within our family. I don''t think you have any other choice, my daughter."

    I wish I could continue enduring this resistance, but I can''t. I stand up, hesitantly but resolutely, and face him. This is the first time my father-in-law and I have the opportunity to confront each other directly and "intimately." I pick up the discarded flyer he callously threw on the table, tears of helplessness streaming down as if they can no longer be restrained. In my anguish, I question:

    "How can you do this? It is our family''s inheritance. Drevolre is mine."

    "I only do what is necessary for my family," Lionel replies coldly. "You are a Morten; how many times do you and your mother need to be reminded of that?"

    Once again, my fate is brought forth like a talisman, and they have successfully exploited it to shackle me. My left hand clenches tightly into my right; the pain will help me maintain composure without succumbing to futile actions. Personally contending with all these forces is truly overwhelming for someone like me. I have become accustomed to having Andermis by my side. I have become accustomed to him bestowing and assisting me. He knows what to do or say in situations like this. I am not like him. I don''t know what to say or do, except to appear weak and defeated. Oh! How can I continue to exist if Andermis does not return? I no longer know; everything seems incredibly hazy now.

    "Just imagine if I couldn''t use my own assets at will, but you couldn''t do anything for those suffering outside," I try to use words to persuade him, even though the remnants of conscience within him remain blurry. "They also go to war, like your two sons. I just want to be able to lend a helping hand."

    My father-in-law pauses for a moment, his eyes shifting as if contemplating. Could those words make his tormented soul become slightly more benevolent? Until now, I still cling to the belief in this class, that what dominates them is no longer just relentless money, that they still have other things to cherish. But perhaps I was mistaken.

    Mr. Lionel slowly looks at me with a pair of sympathetic eyes, only to quickly douse me with a bucket of cold water.

    "I don''t think so."

    What more can I say when everything I can think of is treated with such extreme coldness? I nod my head at both of them before leaving that oppressive room. I hurry upstairs to Francine because that''s the only place that still holds me in this prison.

    Suddenly, it starts pouring rain outside, as if taking over the remainder of my tears. I stand by the window, with the little one in my arms, silently gazing at the cascading raindrops on the glass. Unconsciously, I place my finger on a droplet on the other side of the pane. I wonder if it can carry these thoughts to the battlefield. My heart cannot cease its yearning even when I only think of him. A repeated mistake, in the same manner, with the same justification. I only cherish someone once I''ve lost them. I fear that I will lose Andermis forever. I fear that I will never know if my letters were opened. I miss Andermis. I long for him passionately every day, every hour, every single moment of my life, and now I have to prepare myself that I may have to shut down all those emotions. Once again.

 Chapter 19 - Prayers (4)

    The next morning.

    "I feel terrible for Madilynn. I don''t know if she can overcome it anymore!"

    Landry said to me as we walked along the street. I pedalled my bike in a heavy-hearted mood after visiting the wretched Madilynn with Landry. That elderly woman now had to face the reality that her sons had sacrificed themselves under the enemy''s gunfire, and her home had become colder than ever. When we visited her in the morning, Madilynn was no different than a lifeless corpse, with only a small flicker of life clinging to her painful reality. Madilynn''s pain instantly spread to those who came to visit like us. Five of her sons had perished, and the only thing this society, or more accurately, we could do, was to send a few pastries, some clothing, and a little money.

    "We have lost too much in this senseless war," I muttered, expressing my disgust. "They should die without anyone remembering their names, while glory belongs to those above, always pointing their five fingers!"

    Both of us sighed and continued walking. The sound of footsteps on the gravel echoed crisply in the late autumn, as if time were reversing back to the intoxicating summer. We decided to pause and sit on a wooden bench by the roadside. I handed Landry a piece of cake I took from the kitchen. It was Lady Patmore''s renowned cream horn, one of the few indulgences I cherished. But Landry''s mood was surprisingly heavy. She tightly grasped her icy cold hand and concernedly asked, "What''s wrong?"

    "I thought I was ready, Fiona..." Landry''s voice trembled with fragmented pauses. "I never imagined today''s scene would be so dreadful!"

    "About Madilynn?" I empathetically asked.

    "About meˇ­ Every day, I pray. When I wake up in the morning, at every meal, and by the bedside before sleep, I always earnestly implore the saintly compassionate. But now, I''m filled with overwhelming fear. What if Eddie also departs? How would I cope?"

    Landry''s tears fell freely onto my hand. Like sharp needles piercing through my own flesh, I felt the agonising torment of this young wife. Landry is just the same age as my younger sister, Diana. Looking at this sorrowful girl, the instinct of an elder sister in me could not rest. I embraced Landry, gently patting her back as I would with my own siblings. Tenderly, I reassured her, "Eddie will be fine, Landry. He will come back to you."

    "Madilynn''s sons made the same promise to her..." Landry sobbed. "I don''t know, Fiona. I don''t know if I can face this life alone."

    I pause for a moment, not knowing what to say. I can see Landry trapped in her own mind, just as I once was. The self-questioning, the unease, and the deep-seated longing slowly engulf me at some point. I can''t let another person endure the same fate as I do. Landry has a beautiful relationship with Eddie, and both of them deserve a happy ending.

    I release my grip on Landry, then close my eyes, taking slow breaths. I want to listen to the vibrations of everything around me. The leaves fall gently. The beetles diligently sculpt sand. The water ripples and crashes against the shore. I open my eyes and look ahead. I discover a red-roofed house that I don''t recall being there before, but I smile with contentment. Like a bird realising its blessing is to sing in the early morning, I slowly begin to recount my life to a stranger. If I can''t be a performer, stories will be my legacy in this life.

    "Before I am married into the Morten family, I am a young lady from a grand estate in the southern lands of England," my storytelling voice grows deep and slow. A wave of reminiscence suddenly rushes in. "There is a young man, the son of the estate''s steward, who grows up alongside us. Time passes, and I don''t even know when I fall in love with him."

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    Landry sits silently, listening to the story like an enthralled audience member in the theatre, watching the actors on stage. I have never uttered a word to anyone about this, believing that every confession will haunt me like a theatre phantom. I think I will be too pained to share this story with anyone. But now, I only feel a gentle sense of relief. No burden, no perplexity. On the contrary, I feel the need to speak more than ever.

    "I am a devout Catholic, Landry, and from birth to becoming a woman, faith is always my top priority. But you know what? My love for him grows so immensely that I am willing to defy all conventions and make a solemn vow to him. I can''t imagine how my life would be if I lived apart from him."

    "But you ultimately lived apart from your love?" Landry inquires softly.

    "I thought it was necessary, a last resort to salvage my family," I speak with a disappointed and regretful expression. "From the very beginning, our family doesn''t need saving; it is all in my own mind."

    "And what happens to that man of yours?"

    "He''s dead, resting deep beneath the ocean floor. I don''t even know he has departed, and I don''t have the chance to bid him farewell."

    Every word I utter resonates as if reminding me not to forget my own past. Though I have pondered relentlessly, it hasn''t absolved me of my mistakes, and now the punishment is that I must remember them for the rest of my life. That is why I cannot let this innocent girl fall into the same pit as I did in the past.

    "Why do you tell me these stories?" Landry gazes at me with an incredulous expression. "Won''t it affect your reputation?"

    "Because I don''t want you to be consumed by fear, Landry," I tightly grasp the slender hand of the young girl. "My fears about my inheritance, about him leaving me, about status, virtue, responsibility... they have all destroyed everything I tried to preserve. I would curse myself if you were to experience something similar."

    Landry remains silent, stringing together the entire story, but her face loses some of its anxiety. Landry raises her head to look at me, with a saintly and tender countenance, her lips as delicate as the pale hue of dragonfly wings. She softly asks, "Are all these things true?"

    "Yes," I affirm with a nod. "I wish things could have been different, but I still exist after all that has happened."

    "I just miss him too much, Fiona. I can''t help but yearn for him!" Landry laments.

    "Then never let that love cease beating. Love him, hope for him, and in whatever way, live for him," I declare resolutely.

    The words flow forth, and they sound passionate, but ultimately they become laughable. It is always easier to advise someone when standing from a third-person perspective, yet I remain blinded when the story revolves around myself. Time passes, my age grows, yet this mind remains the same as before, learning nothing. Memories resurface vividly as if someone maliciously stirs them up. Enzo is gone. Augustin is gone. And now Andermis is gone too...

    I suddenly burst into bitter laughter. Tears fall onto the crumbs of bread scattered on my dress.

    "It''s truly ironic, here I am talking to you about overcoming my fears. Yet once again, I pushed the person I love away because of them..."

    Landry unexpectedly takes hold of my hand. Both of us gaze towards the distant horizon. The western sky is ablaze. Pigeons vie for the leftover bread crumbs on the pavement. The flapping of wings stirs invisible particles in the air. People pass by without looking at one another, brushing past like a passing breeze. Bicycle wheels roll steadily. Clumps of grass tumble aimlessly, carried by the autumn wind. Everything feels desolate.

    "He''s not your husband, is he?"

    I suddenly hear Francine''s weeping voice whispering in my ear. The wedding vows come alive again without anyone asking for them. The wedding ring glimmers in the slanted sunlight. Everything feels hollow.

    "Yesˇ­" I reply gently. "He''s someone else."

 Chapter 19 - Prayers (5)

    Christmas, 1915, Moderford Estate, southern Cambridge.

    I stand in the room, by the window frame, an emotionless face gazing towards Augustin, who is enveloped in happiness with his small family. Lady Rose, Mr. Lionel, little Francine, even his own love affair will later have intimate encounters with him. His family has everything except me, while my family is absent here. If someone were to ask me when I feel the most estranged, I would say it is right now.

    I have waited for this moment, day after day, week after week. I have anticipated that when that carriage halts, I would rush down from my room adorned in a brand new dress and the most dazzling jewellery, so that I could be reunited with the man I passionately love. Yet, when that door opened, Augustin was the only one to step out. I fell silent before such an unbelievable truth. Andermis remains peaceful and untroubled under that rain of bullets, but he chooses to forsake his holiday and stay behind, simply to avoid meeting me. The necklace around my neck snapped, its pearls scattering like reverse-falling raindrops, just as the door closed in that very instant. I was not prepared for this. I am not strong enough to accept this truth! Have I truly lost him?

    The sound of knocking startles me, awakening me from my anguish. Hastily, I smooth the damp creases on the corners of my weary eyes. My hands swiftly fix the garments, now marked with folds and wrinkles. The person outside patiently continues to knock, and I cannot leave them standing there indefinitely. But as I pass by the mirror on the cupboard, a voice from within tells me to halt. I stand there, gazing at the reflection of myself, looking utterly wretched. Fragmented like a torn piece of paper, I realise how ghastly and withered I have become. Cracked lips, and faint lines of wrinkles appear on my forehead. I dare not even look at myself for long. I push it aside and step forward to open the door. It is my husband, Augustin, in his gleaming uniform, as if he has never faced bombs and battlefields. Of course, I feel relieved to see him well, as the father of my daughter, for a long time I have viewed myself as a widow. Seeing his exuberant face, I stammer:

    "You''re perfectly fine, then let''s consider it my prayer fulfilled."

    "If you wish to know about Andermis'' situation...," Augustin steps into the room without hesitation, his eyes wandering, searching for familiar spaces. "He''s fine. Healthy and unscathed. I tried to bring him back, but Andermis insisted on staying. It seems to be related to a female military nurse he encountered."

    "You don''t need to tell me anything," I coolly shut the door, pretending indifference while a myriad of discomfort churns within me. "If what you say is true, then it''s good for Andermis alone. He deserves a good woman by his side."

    "And that won''t be you, Fiona," Augustin leans against the windowpane, crossing his arms, looking at me with his characteristic sneer. How I wish I had seen that smile sooner! "Because you are not a good woman. You destroy everything you touch."

    I know Augustin is trying to drown me deep into the abyss of guilt, but I am no longer the Fiona he once knew. I am a woman full of mistakes, my entire life has been hidden in darkness, and now I am strong enough not to step into it anymore. I approach my vanity table, retrieve the blush palette and the wine-coloured lipstick, adorning my face once more in the mirror. I completely ignore Augustin, regardless of his constant provocations. I gaze at myself in the makeup mirror, applying lipstick and saying:

    "Yet there was someone who tried every means to marry me."

    At first, I thought it was a casual remark, simply a way to counter Augustin''s condescension. But I couldn''t foresee that those words would make him erupt. Suddenly, Augustin tightly grips my hand and jerks it backward. The lipstick smears a long line across my cheek and falls far away into a corner of the room. Augustin''s furious face looms in front of me, terrifying enough to render me motionless for a moment. The longer I wait, the tighter his grip becomes, as if both resentful and reluctant to let me slip away. Augustin growls like a ferocious beast, and if his intention is to threaten or frighten me, it seems that Augustin has succeeded!

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    "It seems you haven''t learned any lessons, have you?"

    "Let me go, Augustin," I struggle helplessly. "You''re hurting me!"

    But Augustin seems indifferent to anything else. I hold my breath tightly to withstand his rage. Veins bulge across his arms and neck. It''s not just pure anger, but also a hint of helplessness and heaviness. He speaks with a deep, reproachful voice:

    "Do you still think I married you out of possessiveness? Don''t you think that all these years, I still had love for you?"

    "I doubt that," I try to remain calm facing him. "You only love this face, this body, you''ve never loved me for who I am."

    "I love you, Fiona! I truly love you! How can you be so foolish not to see that?"

    Augustin shouts loudly, like a wild beast let loose. He pushes me onto the bed, trapping half of my body between his legs, holding me tightly like an iron chain, not allowing me to escape. I strike him with my hand to free myself, but the strength of a woman is no different from using an egg to fight a rock. I quickly find myself overpowered by him. But he sheds tears! How can he shed tears when I am the one being cornered? I cannot read him, neither before nor now, I am always in the dark. What is Augustin thinking in his mind?

    "How can I speak as if I am the sole victim in this story, huh? I always try to be a good husband, but do you ever try, even for a moment, to become a wife? You push me away every time I try to get close to you. Do you think you are the victim? No, Fiona, I am the victim, yours! Not just me, but Enzo and Andermis too, we are all destroyed because of you!"

    With those words, Augustin goes mad, tearing my clothes apart mercilessly. I sob, looking at my body exposed, only covered by a thin layer of delicate silk, unable to stop him. Augustin leans down, pressing close to me. His large finger wipes off the smeared lipstick on my cheek, revealing a beautiful yet terrified face. My body trembles continuously, like a person in convulsions. Augustin grabs my chin tightly, while tears stream down my eyes. I don''t whimper or scream, tears simply fall as an expression of helplessness. His fingers slip underneath my lingerie, but he doesn''t rush, leaving it untouched while relishing the sight of my tormented face. Augustin lets out a heavy sigh, with a hint of indifference in his expression. His face, from this distance, is beautiful and captivating, but I am no longer in a phase to be amazed.

    "You are still my wife, Fiona," Augustin says with a lofty and intoxicating demeanor in his military uniform. "You should be grateful that I still have some feelings for you. Without me, you are nothing! Status, position, wealth... The only thing you have is the souls you ruthlessly kill!"

    His hand jerks forcefully, causing my bra to come undone, exposing my naked body in front of him. I close my eyes, silently calling out Andermis'' name, hoping that he comes and protects me as he has done so many times before. But no one comes. The only thing that comes to me is Augustin''s hands roaming over my body. I bite my lip, determined not to let any sound escape. I won''t allow Augustin to think that he has taken everything from me. He might possess this body, but not this mind.

    Augustin flips me over. My hands tightly grip the bedsheet, my hair falling over one eye, while the other looks out towards the window. I see a bird soaring high, so free. Augustin mumbles something, but I don''t hear anything. The bird flaps its wings, then lets go, alternating between the air, leisurely and carefree. My mind feels numb, devoid of any sensation. Silently, my tears flow down, and my lips tremble. I suddenly call out his name.

    Andermis.

 Chapter 19 - Prayers (6)

    On Christmas Eve in 1915, at Moderford Estate.

    My family gathers around the table for dinner, just like every Christmas season before. Whether at Aries Mansion or Moderford, the food is sumptuous and extravagant, resembling a royal feast. Perhaps a part of me will deeply regret not being able to savour these dishes anymore. But I am also weary of such extravagance. Soon, I will forget them, along with the people sitting at this table.

    I rest my hand on the table, supporting my chin, and my eyes gaze at my husband sitting across from me. He is halfway through a cold piece of meat. It must be said that not only Augustin, but all the men when adorned in military attire, seem to elevate their appearance. There is something both masculine, powerful, and intellectually emanating from them. Suddenly, I burst into laughter, which makes the remaining people feel strange and uncomfortable. Even I don''t understand what is happening to myself. Since the moment Augustin forced himself upon me, something has changed in my thinking and behaviour. I will remember his words for the rest of my life, that I will always be dependent on Augustin and this family. Those words seem to have triggered something within me, something I had never dared to think of.

    "What''s the matter with you?" Augustin furrows his brow, looking at me. My parents-in-law also lose their appetite when they see my puzzled and elated expression. I don''t answer but pick up the fork. I gaze dispiritedly at the sausage on my plate. I playfully swirl the fork around it, then I raise it to my mouth but quickly bring it down without touching my lips. My unusual actions leave an unsettled feeling in the hearts of those in the house. Lady Rose angrily puts down her unfinished spoonful of soup and asks, "What has happened to you?"

    "Nothing, nothing at all!" I shrug my shoulders in denial. "It''s just that I feel like something is missing..."

    "Is it your lover?" my husband contemptuously remarks. "Too bad he''s still at the front lines."

    "It''s not that..." I dismiss my husband''s attacks. "I think we are lacking in prayer."

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    "Prayer?" Mr. Lionel furrows his brow. "What kind of game is this now?"

    "On Christmas Eve, we usually pray together for blessings. Given the current circumstances, I think it is even more fitting!" I slowly explain.

    "What circumstances?" Lady Rose is surprised.

    "We are in the midst of a war, mother!" I look at her earnestly. "How can we know if this is not the last time we sit at this table together?"

    My words slip from my lips, followed by the sound of metal touching porcelain. Augustin drops the fork he was holding onto the plate. Even my parents-in-law''s faces change in hue. They all look at me with strange and repugnant eyes. Lady Rose angrily scolds, "What do you mean, Fiona?"

    "I don''t mean anything. I just think about what could happen, which is why I want our family to pray together," I mumble, then turn back to the untouched sausage on my plate. The three of them exchange a glance, as if communicating in an enigmatic language unknown to me, and decide to ignore it and continue. My mother-in-law decides coldly, "We won''t pray for anything. Let''s eat."

    I give a fleeting smile and say nothing more. The evening feast at my home continues slowly and blandly. Later, we gather in the living room to listen to music and Christmas programs on the radio. Tomorrow, when dawn breaks, Augustin will board the vehicle and return to the barracks.

    I sit reclined on the long chair, holding a glass of brandy. I sit amidst them, in an atmosphere of liveliness that I do not belong to. My gaze wanders up to the light blue wall. I have never taken the time to observe it before. Astonishingly, my entire husband''s family suddenly vanishes from my sight, as if evaporating into thin air. Now, there is only me and this vast room, with everything remaining intact. The radio is still playing, the anvil softly tinkers against the gusts of the winter breeze, sneaking through the cracks, and the curtain of snow descends, obscuring the view. On the wall, a crack slowly reveals itself. I hold my breath and watch it gradually descend. I had forebodings about this, but I was too afraid to acknowledge them. But finally, I know what I must do.

    What I should have done a long time ago!

 Chapter 20 - All Too Well (1)

    October 1917, London.

    Soldiers continue to be brought back to the rear, but only the wounded ones, those who no longer have the ability to fight. I don''t know if it''s a blessing or a disguised misfortune to see them. Every day, my Association and I witness the vehicles from the front lines transporting these broken soldiers back. Some have lost their arms, legs, or both. Some have lost their lower bodies, while others have maimed faces or limbs. Just yesterday, I saw a wife welcoming her husband home, but all that remained of him was his torso and head, as his limbs were severed by a bomb blast. I had never truly understood the pain until I witnessed what war had done to them. My mind shattered into fragments as I beheld the devastation inflicted upon these soldiers. They may have returned home, but the truth is they died out there, along with their former selves.

    Even if it were Augustin, I would never want him to endure such horrors. Knowing it''s impossible, no one deserves to bear the physical and emotional pain like this. Landry''s husband, Eddie Rockwell, also returned two weeks ago. The poor girl nearly fainted when she received news of her husband''s return, but luckily Eddie was only shot in the shoulder, temporarily immobilising his arm for a few months without endangering his life. There''s no need to describe her emotions in detail. I suggested Landry stay home during this time, as a way to mend their marital bond. Today, Landry can finally return with the group to lend a hand. Now is a crucial time as the war reaches its final stages, with more and more casualties and returning soldiers in need of treatment. Politicians and the media predict that the war could last another year or two. If that''s the truth, we won''t have any leisure time from now until then to rest.

    Our Association is growing stronger every day, attracting more assistance. My sisters also contribute a significant part, hoping to provide for those in need. As for myself, my money and assets are securely held in the bank, frozen by my father-in-law, depriving me of any decision-making power. Unwillingly, I had to sell all my jewellery, take up ordinary jobs like delivering letters or tutoring, in order to contribute to the fund. Fortunately, my endeavours have yielded tremendous results. The media was ecstatic, earning numerous headlines about one of London''s wealthiest dynasties. To this day, I still remember the grim expression on Lady Rose''s face and the smoky rage in Lord Lionel''s eyes as they read the headline, "The Mortens: Looking like a millionaire but with a poor heart." From being a small, seemingly unknown Association, the aristocrats throughout London suddenly became "generous" benefactors. Money, being their lifeline and an essential aspect of their existence, yet the sense of patriotism, goodwill, and gratitude towards the soldiers could bring them more than any amount of money spent. Besides, no one wants to be labelled as "miserly," "ungrateful," or "lacking a clear definition of humanity" like the Mortens when their daughter-in-law has to work like any other person. Out of options, my father-in-law had to permit the circulation of my funds.

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    And though I don''t want my labour to be criticised or used as an example of something shameful, the story, invisibly and subtly, moves in a positive and beneficial direction for me, and I can''t help but feel somewhat triumphant. In fact, we have now become an official organisation recognized by the authorities. Number 16 Franklin Street is our office, once an abandoned room that has been renovated. However, we don''t stay there regularly; we travel all over London, wherever assistance is needed. With the influence of pioneers like us, similar organisations are gradually emerging in regions across the United Kingdom, and that is truly a source of pride. The work makes me forget my loneliness and secret desires, as I consider it a blessing reserved for those fighting out there. Francine is now four years old, surpassing that dreadful phase that no parent can fathom. Therefore, I can fulfil my duties without being distracted.

 Chapter 20 - All Too Well (2)

    Saint Paul Hospital, London.

    Today Eddie appeared to help us. He said he was used to working and didn''t feel comfortable just staying at home like this. We are currently at an abandoned old hospital, where soldiers without families can recuperate. The hospitals are overloaded, both in terms of space and manpower, and we are one of the few hopes this country has left.

    I admire Landry, and Eddie as well, but I can''t think in a composed and focused manner when I''m near them. I can''t hide the burning flame of envy slowly corroding me as I witness the radiant light of their blissful union. I feel lost amidst a sea of people who need my assistance because this body, this soul, also needs saving. A glance, a gesture, a gentle touch between the couple is enough to make me tremble. I long for that too. I crave a look, a hand to hold, or a caress upon my bare skin. I yearn for more than my own touch. I want to feel him. All that I desire seems so simple, yet I can''t attain it.

    "Are you alright, Fiona?"

    Landry seems to have noticed the sadness on my face, immediately abandoning the bandages she was holding and stepping closer to inquire. The groans of the wounded veterans echoing throughout the room only worsen my mood. I can''t concentrate on my work when my mind is distracted by so many factors. I respond curtly to Landry''s concern:

    "It''s nothing..."

    I brush Landry''s worry aside and continue working. I hold a glass vial containing alcohol in my hand, preparing to cleanse the soldier''s wounds. Whether it''s due to exhaustion or the grotesque nature of the injuries that has twisted my mind, I keep forgetting the proper sequence of actions. I forget to clean my hands before grabbing the tools, so I have to set them down and sanitise my hands. I become clumsy with tasks that I used to perform daily. I resemble a foolish apprentice. To make matters worse, as I turn around, I accidentally knock over the vial, causing it to shatter. And as I attempt to clean up the broken pieces, my hand gets cut by the glass, causing it to bleed. Landry knows that something has happened to me, so she pulls me aside and bandages the wound. It''s ironic that I volunteered to help others, yet now I''m the one being rescued.

    "Is it because of me and Eddie?"

    Landry asks as she ties the final knot of the bandage. I bow my head, too ashamed to face Landry at this moment. The two of us women sit on a bench outside the abandoned hospital, gently gazing at the fluttering Union Jack flags adorning the houses along the street. I let out a long sigh and reply, "I think this work keeps me busy enough to forget those emotions... Landry, I feel so lonely."

    "He is still..."

    "Still safe and sound," I quickly wipe away a tear. "I ask my younger brother, who is also in the war, to inquire about him. Yet, he never sends a letter in response to me."

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    "I don''t know anymore, Fiona..." Landry hesitates, trying to find the right words to advise me. "Do you still hold hope for this affection?"

    "Perhaps I lose the final chance," I choke out. "Before he leaves, he asks me if I love him. But I say no, twice. Fear overcomes me, Landry. How can I expect him to still love me after all that happens?"

    "Fiona, I may not understand what you''re going through or the dynamics between the two of you. But the only thing I know is that you will never have the right answer if you continue to speculate about what the other person will say."

    Landry tightens her grip on my hand as if to reinforce the strength of her advice. I fall silent for a moment, contemplating her words, and realise that Landry is right. Maybe Andermis wants me to speak directly to him, face to face, uttering every word I can''t say before. Yet, I can''t explain why he doesn''t come home on Christmas two years ago. I suddenly think of that moment. I wonder if, had I answered truthfully back then, how do things unfold? Andermis still has to go away, and I still have to stay here with this role, as a married woman with children. The entire storyline plays out just like this reality, with the only difference being that both of us have the motivation to move forward. He is my companion ship, and I am his guiding lighthouse. In this reality, I''m just an empty pier, while he loses his helm.

    A shrill horn resounds, and another vehicle approaches from the front lines, but to my surprise, it doesn''t stop at the hospital. In a daze, my gaze gets lost on the deep green vehicle as it rolls past us. The back of the vehicle is open, and the desolate faces of the soldiers appear before me, hauntingly. But above all, I recognize a familiar face among them. Despite the vast distance, I can still see those blue eyes and thick eyebrows. It''s a mark I haven''t seen in so long, yet it doesn''t confuse me. I know who sits in that vehicle, even though he can''t see me. My heart pounds incessantly as reason tries to keep me calm. My mind tells me it could be anyone in this world, while my stubborn heart insists on defending its belief. I shake my head, discarding everything that suggests it might not be the person I''ve longed to meet. I will curse myself if it''s not him!

    I leave Landry to her own excitement. I barely manage to bid her farewell and reassure her that I''ll be fine, then hastily run to my bicycle. I have to chase after that vehicle, whether it takes me to the farthest reaches of England or to the German battleground. I chase after the vehicle, and of course, there''s no way my bicycle can catch up. I resign myself to following the faint tire tracks left on the road, and my heart fills with hope as they all lead to my home. It''s him! It must be Andermis! Perhaps God has finally heard my prayers!

    I don''t know how long I''ve been running or at what speed. I''ve traversed this road in the morning, but I don''t know why it now feels so distant! I can feel my legs giving way, but I can''t allow myself to slow down. My mind automatically conjures up visions of when he and I meet again. What will I say to him? But I know that before that, I will run to embrace him and passionately kiss those lips. I accept becoming a dishevelled, wretched, or lustful woman. I just want to feel his lips after longing for them for so long.

    A "clank" sound resonates, and both pedals suddenly go numb. I stagger to a stop, but it''s futile as it sped away too quickly. The bicycle chain has snapped, and when I tightly squeeze the brakes to halt, it loses momentum, and both the bicycle and I tumble onto the road. My knees scrape against the ground, and blood seeps through the white fabric. But that doesn''t concern me as much as the fact that the bicycle has vanished from my sight. I helplessly watch the wheel continue spinning a few more times before coming to a complete stop. With no other option, I leave the bicycle behind and run straight back home on my own two feet. I won''t let anything hinder my path to him anymore. I don''t want to squander this fragile opportunity, one that may never return. Each house runs backward, and hope grows within my heart. Just a little longer, the boat will reach the shore, and the ship will behold the lighthouse.

 Chapter 20 - All Too Well (3)

    Aries House

    The gate of my house is already open, and that car is indeed parked in the courtyard. Suddenly, my legs can''t run right in, and I hesitate in front of the door. I am tormented by the questions within me. What if Andermis doesn''t want to see me? What if he comes back with another woman? There are so many things that make me hesitate right now. This is what I long for, but why am I afraid to face it?

    I slowly walk, as if giving myself more time to think. I walk past the car, the empty backseat still bearing the traces of dried blood. Two drivers stand outside, conversing in Irish accents, of which being a girl from the South, I can only catch bits and pieces. But I don''t intend to stand there and chat with them. I glide past the two like a shadow, brushing off the greetings of the servants. I don''t want to be seen as impolite, but I need to truly focus when it happens.

    I stand in front of the door, holding my breath. I close my eyes, creating a quiet void to listen to the beating of my heart. I gently open the door. A familiar silhouette stands in front of the stairs, so firm, so beautiful, appearing before my eyes. For a moment, I don''t think it''s true, or I convince myself that it''s someone else. But when he turns his face to the side, those jawline and cheekbones sculpted like a statue, I know I''m not mistaken. It''s my Andermis!

    Like a volcanic eruption, all emotions surge from deep within me, and I hurriedly open the door and run to him. Andermis turns around upon hearing the sound of my footsteps echoing from the floor. Seeing me, his face is suddenly filled with utmost surprise. His eyebrows furrow, and his mouth hangs open as if in disbelief. But I hardly care about his reaction. I don''t even notice if anyone else is standing beside us. I only see Andermis, all alone there. I want him, desperately!

    I embrace his neck, pulling him closer and kiss those lips. Oh! I almost forget what it feels like to be kissed! I think I no longer have a chance to immerse myself in love, think it deserts me. This taste remains intact even after three years. Oh! I remember it dreadfully! I can never forget the flavour on my tongue! Like a precious elixir, I suddenly feel immortal!

    It''s only after a while that I reluctantly let him go, with an unsatisfied expression on my face. I don''t want to stop, but I can''t continue indefinitely. I''m afraid that if I let him go, Andermis will leave, and I will have to return to my empty chamber. I release him from my embrace. I look up to gaze at the familiar face that I fall in love with. His face still retains that familiar feeling, but it becomes more hardened and mature. I guess the war changes him somewhat. My hand caresses his face gently, my eyes have been moist since when, and this voice becomes choked with emotion:

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    "I long for you every day, praying that you come back... And you truly return!"

    But my joy quickly fades when Andermis doesn''t appear excited or moved. He just stands there, looking at me with an awkward and bewildered expression. I slowly let go of his hand, with a heart full of cracks ready to burst, once again. I ask in anguish:

    "You''re not happy to see me?"

    "No, Fiona," Andermis stutters. "It''s not that... it''s just..."

    I place my hand on my chest to console my heavily wounded heart, as well as to regain my composure. I can no longer feel love when I stand close to him. All that is creeping within my flesh, or my emptiness, is mere awkwardness. Neither of us can say anything at once. Three years have passed, and upon meeting again, we unintentionally become strangers at some point.

    I encapsulate the sob and roll it inward. Reluctantly, I force a smile, with eyes still shimmering like a layer of water, gazing at that familiar yet unfamiliar face, and ask:

    "Are you well?"

    "Unlike my other comrades, I am well and at peace," Andermis politely replies. "It''s surprising that I''m still alive. You have no idea how terrifying everything is out there."

    "I hear it on the radio every day and see it every day on the returning soldiers'' vehicles..." I shake my head in response.

    The conversation seems to reach a dead end as neither of us knows what else to say. We both stand there, indifferent, like statues frozen in time. After a while, I realise something is amiss with his return and inquire:

    "If you are unharmed and at peace, why were you allowed to come back? What about Augustin? Isn''t he returning with you?"

    Andermis bites his lip as if a guilty child trying to hide something from its mother but being discovered. At this moment, a new and growing emotion emerges from within: worry. Something definite has happened, and judging by Andermis'' expression, I am certain it is not good news. I clench my palms tightly and hold my breath. In my mind, prayers from sacred scriptures suddenly rush forth.

    "Fiona..." Andermis speaks hesitantly. "I think you need to go upstairs and meet him..."

 Chapter 20 - All Too Well (4)

    I have spent three hours, doing nothing but sitting still, gazing at the man I married. I despise him and hold him in contempt. I detest his handsome yet arrogant and malevolent face. I loathe his towering, powerful figure every time he gets angry and threatens me. I spit on the hand that wears the wedding ring on my finger, disgusted whenever he touches my body. There are countless things I detest about him. But why, at this very moment, can I no longer hate him? I cannot harbour even a trace of resentment towards him. Because now, I dare not be certain if Augustin will ever wake up again!

    I do not shed tears when I see him like this, yet my heart is filled with profound sadness and immense pity. Lady Rose has cried until she fainted, and Sir Lionel is conversing with the finest doctors to heal his legs. Yesterday, Augustin''s platoon fell into an ambush, and Great Britain suffered heavy losses. Augustin was affected by a bomb explosion, and his spine was injured. He fell into a coma, and the doctors say he will wake up, but a large percentage of his lower body will be paralyzed. I have spent these three hours contemplating how I will receive this dreadful news, and I still find it unbelievable that this has happened. Regardless of everything, Augustin is still my husband, the one who shared my bed for all these years, the father of my two daughters. Among those who wished ill upon Augustin, I would be the last on that list. Above all, I simply wanted to escape from him, but now, my heart refuses to leave.

    I grasp his cold, icy hand, overwhelmed by a terrible sense of self-consciousness. He is a man covered in wounds, some just healed, some still oozing blood on hastily stitched threads. I did not realise that I had shed tears for him until a drop fell onto the pristine white blanket covering him. If all of this had not occurred, I would not have married him, and these pains would surely not exist. Between the two of us, we could have been kindred spirits. Even more challenging, I do not know how to explain to my daughter about her father. Francine has never met him, all she knows about her biological father is a man in a photograph. Francine is too young to understand such things.

    "What are those tears for? Isn''t that what you wanted? You evil woman!"

    The voice filled with resentment from Lady Rose resonates hauntingly behind me, causing me to startle and rise to my feet. She charges forward, "rewarding" me with a slap on the cheek, so strong that the outline of her hand is clearly imprinted on my skin. I recoil, falling flat on the floor, my face in disbelief as I gaze at my enraged mother-in-law. Never have I seen her look so terrifying. But there is something beyond that anger, something only someone like me can recognize. We are both mothers to someone!

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    Lady Rose clenches tightly onto the hand that no longer reacts, bitter tears streaming from those heavy, swollen eyes. I stand in a corner of the room, observing her engulfed in endless pain. Even from this distance, I can sense the inner turmoil within her. I cannot blame my mother-in-law for such a normal reaction; on the contrary, I empathise with her even more.

    "Augustin has always been our most difficult child..." Lady Rose confesses, her voice choked with sorrow. "Premature birth, surviving a paralysing fever at the age of four, suffering from a reading disorder... We thought we had lost Augustin to the clutches of death!"

    "Augustin will wake up soon, Mother..." I speak gently.

    "Don''t speak as if everything will be alright, Fiona!" she exclaims. "You know nothing is alright! You always wanted our son to die so you could mourn with the one you love!"

    "I have never had such thoughts, Mother!" I interject. "The relationship between me and Augustin is beyond salvage, but I have never cursed him. Augustin, regardless of everything, is still Francine''s father. How could I entertain such an idea?"

    "How do I know what you truly think?" she shakes her head, looking at me with bitter eyes. "What are you doing now? While my poor son lies in bed with no hope."

    "I swear..."

    "I don''t want to hear another word from you, Fiona!" she cuts me off decisively. "Get out of my sight! Since you entered this house, you have brought nothing but misfortune!"

    What more can I say? Before leaving the room, I still linger for a moment to look at them. The elderly mother still huddles beside her beloved son. I no longer recognize her as the proud and self-proclaimed superior Lady Rose; I only see the image of a grieving mother weeping for her child. Despite her repeated humiliations and curses, I cannot hold onto anger in my heart. I wish I could continue to harbour this grudge, but when I put myself in her position, I shake my head and let it go. It turns out there are more similarities between me and Lady Rose than we had imagined.

 Chapter 20 - All Too Well (5)

    I descend the stairs, with a heavy atmosphere of melancholy enveloping this grand yet cold mansion. Wherever I go, I see a sense of hesitation on the faces of all the household members. I no longer have the mental capacity to think about anything else, not even the wounds on my legs and arms are painful anymore. I had anticipated great joy upon seeing Andermis, but once again reality reminds me that life will never unfold along the path I yearn for. Yet, I am not resigned. I know I need him, that''s all!

    I cannot find Francine anywhere, and it worries me. At this age, the little one is cognizant enough to wander on her own and gradually break free from her mother''s embrace. I hastily inquire with the family members, but none of them has seen Francine. Panic-stricken, I dash off to search for her, accompanied by Anna and a few loyal ones. Despite all my efforts, finding Francine feels like catching a ball in the pitch darkness. Never before have I seen this house become an endless maze like it is now. I cannot confront these three major issues all at once. My heart may shatter before anything new takes bloom!

    While I am nearly engulfed by despair, Francine''s laughter suddenly resounds, awakening this weary body. I lift my gaze. From outside the door, a gleeful Francine is laughing as if there is nothing to worry about, as if she hasn''t caused her mother to undergo an absolute panic. But what surprises me the most is that she didn''t come in on her own, but rather, she is sitting on Andermis'' shoulders. The two of them look perfectly matched, as if an invisible thread binds their fingertips. Francine sits high up, her hands tightly gripping his stiff, dishevelled hair. In an instant, I forget my own troubles and burst into laughter. Andermis also seems happier upon seeing me again. Francine spots me and immediately exclaims, "Mummy!" with such a clear and loud voice. I want to pretend to be angry because she made me worry, but when I see this cheerful face, I can''t be angry.

    "Where were you going? I''ve been looking for you, my child!" I embrace her, speaking in a slightly reproachful tone.

    "Papa took me horseback riding!" the little one utters in a jumble of incomprehensible words. "Papa played and made me happy!"

    "I just carried her on my back and ran a few rounds in the courtyard!" Andermis explains. "And the little one kept calling me ''papa''."

    Initially, I am slightly taken aback when I hear my daughter referring to him as her papa instead of uncle. I always pay great attention to teaching my child. Francine has never met either of them, but I did not forget to show her their pictures throughout the years of separation. I hold her tiny nose and ask:

    "This person is your uncle Andermis. DonˇŻt Francine remember what I have taught you?"

    "Oh, really?" the innocent child replies. "So, what he says about not being Francine''s pa-pa is true?"

    "No, he is not your pa-pa," I smile, gently explaining.

    "Then where is Francine''s pa-pa?" my daughter''s round eyes look at me, seeking answers.

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    "Your pa-pa is tired. He will come find you once he''s fully recovered. Francine must wait for him!" I say.

    Then she turns to look at Andermis standing beside us. She gently rubs his face, right on that budding, scruffy beard. Tilting her head, she says:

    "So, you''re not Francine''s pa-pa?"

    "No, I''m not, little one!" Andermis smiles. His finger gently caresses her cheek. "I am your Uncle Andermis, your pa-pa''s younger brother!"

    "Francine!" I call out her name. "Listen to me, why do you call him pa-pa?"

    "He plays with me and makes me happy!" the child says in her limited vocabulary. "I want him to be my pa-pa."

    Once again, she leaves me astonished. Sometimes I wonder if this is just the innocence of a child. What''s even stranger is that a part of me doesn''t feel angry when Francine says that. There was a time when I truly thought about what it would be like if Francine were my child and Andermis were the father. But the truth remains, I cannot change the reality of my own affection. I shake my head, using my index finger to gently tap her tiny lips, and say softly:

    "No, you can''t, my dear. You already have a pa-pa, you can''t say that!"

    "Yes, mummy," she nods.

    "Alright, now Francine, say goodbye to your uncle and go to your room!"

    I let her down to bid farewell to Andermis, then I walk with Anna to our room. The two of us adults stand there, watching our child ascend the stairs, feeling younger ourselves by a few years. Andermis lets out a faint laughter and then turns away. I look in his direction, a sense of regret surges within me. I step forward, calling out his name subconsciously, but it comes out as a whisper. Andermis stops in his tracks, somewhat reluctant, but then turns back. I speak hesitantly:

    "Are you leaving already?"

    "No, I will return to my unit tomorrow," Andermis replies politely.

    "Why so soon?" I ask, a face filled with regret.

    "I''m just taking my brother home, then I still have duties to attend to," he answers with formality. "Besides, there''s nothing here that holds me back."

    As he finishes speaking, he nods farewell and turns away. A glimmer of hope suddenly flickers when he says that. I know that he still cares about me, that this image is still alive within his mind. I summon all my courage to interrogate:

    "How do you know there''s nothing left?"

    Andermis turns back to look at me, and his figure freezes for a moment. I hold my breath, waiting for his answer. But as I wait, and wait, and wait, the only response I receive is a meaningless smile from him. Andermis silently turns back and returns to his room without saying anything. He doesn''t bother to look at me. In fact, the previous Andermis would have immediately noticed the wounds on my body, but now, he shows no signs of care or concern, as if I mean nothing at all. However, despite his coldness and indifference, I still believe that things are not that simple. I stubbornly cling to a small ray of hope for my love, for him. I can''t easily discard it as I did before. Faith, Enzo, family, or this marriageˇŞI underestimate and overlook them too lightly, and I have no intention of repeating that in this matter. I love Andermis, and IˇŻll fight for it!

 Chapter 20 - All Too Well (6)

    Lunch, afternoon, and evening flow by in a melancholic and desolate manner within the house. No one has the mood to eat anything. Throughout the day, I merely nibble on a piece of bread and sip a glass of milk. I haven''t seen Andermis, my father-in-law, or my mother-in-law since then. Earlier, I took Francine to Augustin''s room and spoke to her about her biological father. I dare not mention Augustin''s illness, as the child is still too young to grasp its severity. I tell her that her father is like Snow White, consuming a poisoned apple and sinking into a deep sleep, but he will awaken after some time. Fortunately, Francine doesn''t question me in return, asking why I don''t kiss him like the prince in the story, for a sincere kiss would awaken the sleeping princess. I believe I am fortunate not to face that seemingly innocent question. Even if I possessed such power, I don''t think my kiss could awaken Augustin!

    That evening, sleep evades me. Every time I close my eyes, Andermis'' indifference returns and haunts me. I toss and turn incessantly, turning to every side I can think of, yet sleep eludes me. I sit up, attempting to listen to the tranquillity of the night in the hope of finding some release. Unconsciously, my hand grabs the pocket watch that Andermis bestowed upon me. I open it, listening to the rhythm of its mechanism, hearing the movement of the clock''s hands. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Suddenly, those first kisses resurface in my mind. I yearn for them desperately. I can''t think of anything else. I can''t deny this love. I know what I must do!

    I rise hurriedly, hastily donning a robe as I make my way to Andermis'' room. Tomorrow he will be leaving, and this is the final opportunity for us to speak openly about everything. Even if the truth is that he no longer loves me, I will still painfully accept it. I need to know if in the future I would be willing to open my heart once more. I can''t do things half-heartedly as I did before, allowing myself to be consumed by doubts and regrets. The truth is the truth, no matter how bitter or sweet, and I will embrace it.

    The door to his room is unlocked, and Andermis is not inside. I am surprised, questioning what is happening. Initially, I thought he would be in the study. As I approach the staircase, my mind presents me with a different outcome. I turn around and head to the end of the hallway instead of my initial plan. In a moment of reminiscence, I recall that Andermis had mentioned to me that as a child, he had a secret hideout. It was the attic floor of the mansion. Andermis had told me about his "hideout" many years ago. At the end of the hallway, a folding wooden staircase has been pulled down, further confirming Andermis'' whereabouts. I inhale deeply, once again questioning myself if this is what I truly want. And even though I have asked myself hundreds, millions of times, I am certain of my answer. Tonight, I will confront Andermis.

    <hr>

    "I think youˇŻd come here, and I am right. Perhaps I understand you better than you think."

    I smile, looking at Andermis sitting on the floor, with his face turned towards the window of the attic, gazing at the sparkling moon. Seeing me, Andermis is initially startled but quickly regains composure. He stands up, wearied, and asks:

    "Why do you come here?"

    "To find you, to tell you the truth," I take determined steps towards him. "About us."

    "What else is there to say?" Andermis shakes his head.

    "There is so much more! So much, much more that I want to say. Please, listen to me, just this once!"

    I pause in front of him, both of us standing close together, yet our hearts feeling distant. Andermis crosses his arms, his face impatiently gazing at me. Nevertheless, he doesn''t push me away but stands still to listen. I clasp my hands tightly together, as a gesture to strengthen myself for this expression. I take a deep breath, then speak:

    "I know that day you proposed to me, and IˇŻve disappointed you with my answer. I was wrong, Andermis. I was afraid of too many things. Of status, position, and my responsibilities. I am a married woman and already have two children. IˇŻve suffered too much loss to face life with truth and sincerity. Therefore, IˇŻve deceived myself and replied to you with blindness."

    I expect some kind of reaction from him, whether it be anger or excitement, contentment or annoyance, but there is no signal returned. I remain resolute even as that coldness somewhat chills the fire within me. I take a step forward and say:

    "I love you, Andermis."

    "Thank you," Andermis calmly replies without a hint of disturbance. "It''s good that you say that."

    I can hear my heart shatter into two as he responds with a detached courtesy. I even notice his uncomfortable furrowed brow on that beautiful face. How can I ever feel normal again? I suppose the war not only alters his appearance but also changes this very heart. I should know my limits, and that opportunities never return. If I understand that sooner, I won''t carry this burden for so long!

    I suppress my tears, ready to bury this erroneous love. Both my heart and mind console me, assuring that I will be fortunate enough to meet someone new, and then I won''t let any chance slip away. I think the same when I silently turn away without uttering another word to him, just as Andermis makes no effort to hold me back. What do I feel now? Disappointment, to some extent. Sadness, for a while. But above all, unrest. I cannot accept seeing him like this! I cannot bear for this to end like this!

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    I stand before the threshold of the wooden staircase that leads down to the old place. Just a few more hours until dawn, when Andermis will board the car and return to the front lines, while I continue with my duties, a cold-hearted wife and an ordinary mother. What should I do? Descend the stairs or turn back to face him once again? Is it my own blindness or does Andermis still conceal something beneath that impassive facade? I no longer know, I feel that whether I descend or turn back, these feet cannot lift off the ground. I have almost lost the very essence of a woman to express my feelings, to search for him in the night, when this name, this body, has been bound by legality as the norm. Do I still desire that? I still have a little time before fully becoming an ordinary woman, degraded, someone who dismisses virtue. Is Andermis worthy of me crossing my ultimate limit? The clock is ticking, yet I still ponder. Fiona, today you must decide what you want! It is time for me to truly live a life!

    Andermis stands with his back turned to me, his gaze fixed on a distant horizon. I advance towards him passionately. Andermis looks at me in astonishment, unable to believe that I have become so decisive. I stand tall, my chest swelling, fearless as I face him. With determination, I proclaim:

    "I love you, Andermis."

    "You don''t need to say it multiple times, I''ve heard you," Andermis shakes his head. "But it doesn''t change anything."

    "Why?" I ask.

    "The question should be why you are saying it now," he responds.

    Andermis now reveals his true emotions. Anger! A rage intertwined with the bone-deep pain that has gnawed at him all these years, now revealed. I know I was right about him. I always believed that Andermis still loved me, and all his coldness and rejection was for another reason, and I will soon find out what that is!

    "I have been waiting for you all this time! Every day, Fiona! Day after day, even when you rejected me, I still waited for you! I never stopped thinking about you! But Fiona, you didn''t even remember to write me a single letter in return. You said you loved me only because there was no one else to love you!"

    Andermis speaks in utmost agitation. Tears flow from his eyes like a waterfall. It is a reservoir of accumulated emotions, waiting for a spark to burst forth like a broken dam. I don''t understand what he is saying, but I can sense the pain he is enduring.

    I step forward, retrieving a large file of letters that I had stopped sending and hand it to him. I say:

    "Every week, I wrote you a letter, without fail, for an entire year. One hundred letters. I visited the post office so often that everyone there knows my name. One hundred letters sent without any response. Thomas at the post office told me not to bother anymore, but I still hoped for something. Even when I stopped sending the letters, I kept writing. I love you not because there is no one else to love me. I choose to love you. I have to face rejecting you every hour of every day, like an endless nightmare."

    "I have never received any letters from you..." Andermis'' face distorts as he looks at the thick pile of letters I hand to him. "I thought you had truly forgotten about me!"

    I take hold of the stack of letters from his hands and let them fall to the floor. I step closer, tightly gripping his hand, looking at him with sincerity, and say:

    "I wish I could forget about you, Andermis. But I can''t. I realise that I have loved you for a very long time."

    He looks at the pile of letters, one another. He opens and reads each of them, under the pale moonlight. Never in his lifetime has he suffered from this such regret.

    "I''m sorry, Fiona..." Andermis sighs heavily. The breath carries the weight of regret that engulfs both of us. "I don''t know what happened to those letters... Maybe it was Augustin..."

    "Please, donˇŻt say a word..."

    I raise my hand to silence him, not letting Andermis finish his sentence. I lean my head against his chest, trying to capture the warmth that I have lost for so long. Three years have passed, yet that fragrance remains vivid and sweet as ever. I place the palm of my hand over his heart, trying to hear its rhythmic beat. I look up at him and say:

    "That doesn''t matter anymore. What I want to know is, do you still want me?"

    "What?," Andermis is taken aback. These hand-written letters just free drop on the floor, flying like butterflies. His expression is as if he has just witnessed something shocking.

    "After all the misunderstandings, do you still want to have me?"

    The moon shines outside, illuminating the scene. We, two grown individuals with twisted and ugly pasts written from mistakes, are preparing to make eternal vows. The attic seems completely forgotten by everyone in the house, no one knows that this luxurious mansion still holds a rustic and outdated space. Here, two individuals with chains on their feet and neck stand face to face, with hearts beating in unison. Tonight, nothing can stop us anymore. No doctrines, no moral standards, and certainly no fears, only the two of us.

    Andermis reaches his hand into my hair and lifts my face gently. The moonlight makes this face even more enchanting. At this moment, I finally see the Andermis of the past. Gentle, sincere, and strong. My hand holds his heart steady, while my own heart dances outside my chest. I cannot fathom how dull and tasteless my life would become without this man. Andermis is my air, my water. Without him, I would surely wither away!

    "Every moment, every second, every hour, I want you, Fiona. I cannot imagine how mundane and lifeless my existence would be without you!"

    His answer brings a satisfied smile to my lips. I desire nothing else, for my wish has been fulfilled. I release my hand from his chest, then slowly take his hand and place it on my own chest. I have shattered all the standards that society imposes on women and calls virtuous. Now, all I want is him. I yearn for his touch. I crave the essence of him. Nothing can stop me now!

    "Then you can have me, from this moment onward, until the very last breath of both of us!"

 Chapter 20 - All Too Well (7)

    I lay my head on his chest, peacefully listening to the slow rhythm of his heartbeat within. My mischievous hand plays with the strands of his chest hair. I never knew that beneath Andermis'' tidy attire lies such spontaneity and wildness. I feel like Eve, knowing it is forbidden, yet unable to contain my heart, unable to let go.

    Andermis strokes my long, silky hair, gently cherishing me like a precious treasure. Our hands intertwine, and never have we been so close to each other. I haven''t felt this serene since the last time I was with Enzo. I realise how much favour I still have from the Lord. I have lost a treasure, but I have found a gem. I don''t know if I should see it as joy or sorrow. But instead of letting those thoughts haunt me, drain my energy like before, I set them aside and choose a happy present. Enzo would support me for these decisions because I know it is him!

    "Can''t you stay, love?" I look at him with regret, hoping for a little more time to hold him tight.

    "Only those who are no longer able to hold a gun can leave the front line," Andermis sighs. "If it weren''t for Augustin''s troubles, I wouldn''t be able to return at this moment."

    I sigh with a deep longing, but there is no other choice but to accept. I lean up and place a kiss on his chest, then slowly move upward, spacing them out, until I finally stop at his forehead. I brush my hair to one side to see this beloved face clearly. I wish there was a way to vividly preserve everything about him within me, a different version of him that still emanates the same genuine feelings I''m experiencing now. I smile happily at Andermis, touched because, after all these years, I finally understand what it means to live. Andermis defines me. Without him, this Fiona''s life would only be meaningless words written on old, forgotten paper. He has helped shape me, fill me, and complete me.

    "So, come back to me, won''t you? Don''t leave me alone, Andermis. You must return to me."

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    "I promise," Andermis intertwines his finger with mine, a sincere expression on his face. "I will come back to you on a sunny day."

    "Just on sunny days?" I smile, but tears well up in my eyes.

    "At any time, whether it''s early morning, midday in summer, or when the moon is high. Whether it''s summer or winter, I will find my way back to you. No matter where, I will find my way back to you."

    I have nothing else to say or pray for. His words are the most trustworthy commitment one can possess. Now, I can patiently wait for everything to fall into place. I just need to wait for the war to end, and we can start our own life. I have been preparing for this for so long, even facing the prospect of Andermis no longer choosing me, ending things with Augustin. I will divorce him, leave this house with Francine. With Andermis'' promise, I have even more motivation to do so. We will go to a faraway place where no one can find us anymore. There, we will build a three-person home, a small house by the lake, a garden with a few chickens, a few cats and dogs to keep the house lively. We will watch Francine grow up together and our future children. I have so many plans in my mind; the only thing missing is the day of the war''s end. Oh, I cannot wait for peace to return! I cannot wait to be back in his arms. So sweet and incredibly warm!

    ˇ°Can you just stay?ˇ±, I regretfully ask with the smallest voice.

    ˇ°I would trade everything just to stay with youˇ­ But there are no merchants,ˇ± long sighs, he replies.

    ˇ°IˇŻll miss you all too well, Andermisˇ­ˇ±

    ˇ°And IˇŻll be loving you all too well.ˇ±

    Our hands intertwine tightly, counting down the final moments before the sun fully emerges. The first rays of light begin to seep through the distant cracks in the door. Full of regret, I rest my head upon his steadfast chest, gently sighing.

    "I wish the sun would oversleep. I don''t want to be away from youˇ­"

    "Neither do I. If only the sun would not rise today, my love."

 Chapter 21 - Letters (1)

    "London, 14th February 1918,

    Dearest Andermis,

    I am writing this letter to respond to your recent letter, my beloved, as well as to share a few delightful matters with you. But first, please tell Benoit that I have conducted my own research on swans and they are not as steadfastly loyal as he claimed. Do you know, I had to read numerous books to discover this truth!

    However, I am eager to inquire about you. My dearest Andermis, are you well on the frontlines? I am here, thinking of you every single day. Francine also misses you terribly; she mentions you constantly. I wish the bond between her and her father turns out as endearing as yours. It might be a long while before Francine forgets the sight of Augustin''s furious outburst, shattering objects. His temperament remains as volatile as ever, unchangeable. It''s distressing for Francine to witness such scenes.

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    Today marks my birthday, and I am sure you remember. Just recently, I turned twenty-seven, and signs of aging begin to show on this body. I know this might sound juvenile, but I still want to ask: will you continue to love me when I am no longer young and fair as I am now? It''s just a passing thought, as I believe you will love me no matter what transpires, won''t you?

    Take care, my love, and do not forget your promise to return to me!

    Yours affectionately,

    Fiona."

 Chapter 21 - Letters (2)

    "London, 26th March 1918,

    My Dearest Andermis,

    How is the weather where you are? London has entered summer, becoming unbearably hot! I can only imagine the relief of plunging into the refreshing waters of Lake Baikan. I hope your location offers you more comfort than mine does for me. You and your comrades have endured so much hardship.

    I met Louise and updated her on Dante''s condition. She''s in great distress, and I spent the entire day with her, ensuring she''ll be alright. Rest assured, I will visit her frequently. Dante is your good companion, and I will do everything in my power to assist.

    Guess what? I''ve discovered that Francine has a talent for poetry. Today, she wrote a poem for you. I wish you were here to hear her recite it. I''m writing it down for you to read!

    ''I recall my uncle,

    Strong and gallant soul,

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    Playing with trains,

    Taking me on journeys.

    I recall my uncle,

    A meeting so brief,

    Yet etched in memory,

    Like my mother''s own.

    I recall my uncle,

    Marching at the front,

    Undaunted by trouble,

    Defending our homeland.

    Oh, dear uncle,

    Come home swiftly,

    Mother and grandparents await,

    We''ll play with trains.''

    Francine hasn''t settled on a title for the poem yet, but she seems quite content with it. She recited it from one end to the other with an adorable, stuttering voice! This is a gift for you, so return to us soon!

    Lovingly yours,

    Fiona."

 Chapter 21 - Letters (3)

    "London, 8th April 1918,

    My Dearest Andermis,

    I''ve received the gift from your front, my love! It surely is the most wonderful gift I''ve ever received. Thank you for the bracelet made from a piece of shell casing. I can''t explain it, but it looks simple yet I adore it more than any expensive jewelry I own. Thank you so much!

    My society is progressing well. I''m busier than ever now, mostly volunteering when I''m not with Francine. But don''t worry, I haven''t neglected my studies! I''m confident I''ve nearly memorized your entire bookshelf! Alright, I know that just knowing all that won''t make me a good lawyer, and it takes more than book knowledge. I understand that, which is why I''m leaving the rest to you. I want you to be the one to guide me into becoming an accomplished female attorney. Through you, I''ve realized I can still make something meaningful of my life!

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    I can''t quite tell, but I think I might be gaining weight. Today, Anna had to help me into a dress from a few months ago. Strangely enough, I''ve been eating more than usual, perhaps due to exhaustion. And how about you out there? You must have lost quite a bit of weight, haven''t you? I can''t imagine there being many options. Oh, how I wish I could send you some of Mrs. Patmore''s pastries! But alas, I doubt they would make it through. You really must return to me soon!

    Take care, my love! Yours,

    Fiona."

 Chapter 21 - Letters (4)

    "London, 19th May 1918.

    To my distant Andermis,

    Francine has received your birthday gift, dear Andermis! She was overjoyed by your present and even asked when you would be coming back. It''s strange how a doting uncle like you remembers her birthday, while her own father spends his days cloaked in gloom. I do try to sympathize with him, but every time I think about it, forgiveness becomes harder to find. And you know what? He''s the one who prevented my earlier letters from reaching you. Augustin admitted that while he was in a drunken stupor. I can''t bear to listen to anything he says anymore!

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    Lately, there hasn''t been much novelty, much like the enduring ache I feel for you from the very beginning. Landry, the girl I work with in the Society, is now a mother, her husband a soldier who was discharged due to an arm injury. Just yesterday, I visited her. Her pregnancy is only three months along and she still looks so small. Seeing Landry reminds me of when I carried Elizabeth; I was equally clueless then, everything was so new. I suggested Landry assist with desk work, so it wouldn''t be too taxing and to help her feel capable. I was overjoyed when she proposed that I become her childrenˇŻs godmother. Of course, I readily agreed! You know how much I adore children, don''t you?

    I don''t quite know what else to write; I just find myself missing you. Stay safe to return to me!

    With affection,

    Fiona."

 Chapter 21 - Letters (5)

    "London, 30th June 1918,

    My Beloved Andermis,

    I can feel the pain in every word you''ve written, Andermis. Today, I visited Mrs. Mary, and while she accepted the harsh truth with a gentleness I hadn''t anticipated, I could sense her shattering into fragments inside. I also know that Benoit was a true comrade of yours, someone who shared the highs and lows of life with you, and it pains me to receive this news. But Andermis, please don''t let this extinguish your hope and determination. Please remember that there''s someone here waiting for you to come back. So, strive to stay safe and return, filling the void left by Benoit, and come back to me. Alright?

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    I once spoke of the plans I had for our life together after your return. I can only make those plans a reality with you by my side, which is why, no matter what, you must return safely. I don''t know how many times I''ve repeated the phrase "come back," but I can''t find any other words more fitting. I believe I will continue to repeat it even more until the day we are reunited. I don''t mind praying a thousand, a million times; no matter how many, I''ll keep hoping and waiting!

    Remember my words, don''t see the road back as obscure. Recall that in London, there still stands a long-forgotten lighthouse, tirelessly awaiting the return of the ships from yesteryears.

    Sending you a hundred thousand kisses,

    Fiona."

 Chapter 21 - Letters (6)

    "London, 23rd July 1918,

    Dearest Andermis,

    I have heeded your words, discussed it with Mother and Diana about the estate, and they are wholeheartedly supportive. Irony twists, for on that day I sacrificed all just to reclaim those parcels of land, thrusting myself down an irreversible path, causing harm to all, all for something devoid of soul and heart. Now, I am ready to bid it goodbye without attachment, without two minds, and without remorse. The name Lamstrong has never hinged on those material possessions. Lamstrong is my father, mother, and my four sisters. Lamstrong is this very family!

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    What are your thoughts on France? Oh, how foolish of me to ask, considering you''ve spent nearly your entire youth in that glamorous Paris! But truly, I ponder the idea of departing England with Francine and you after all that has transpired. I love this land, yet it also brings a deep sorrow. I haven''t decided yet, but I think I''ll need a journey far away. My once fluent French has likely rusted, and from tomorrow onwards, I''ll need to rekindle it if we decide to live there for a while.

    Write something romantic for me, won''t you?

    Stay safe and well,

    Fiona."

 Chapter 21 - Letters (7)

    "London, sorrowful, 14th August 1918,

    My Dearest,

    David has come home, and the poor boy is not well at all. I know he''s now a grown young man, but in my eyes, David will always be that tender little boy. I can see the pain and melancholy in his eyes. But I don''t know what to do anymore. Help me, Andermis?

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    The thing I feared the most has finally revealed itself. Every day with each news, my heart grows more anxious. I think of the two of you, day after day, waiting for updates. You can''t fathom the extent of the dread I''m wrestling with. Seeing David return home, even though not entirely whole, brought me immense relief. Do you know why? Because at least I can still see him, touch him, feel his presence. But for you, I can only send my longing through these letters, waiting for your words to reach me.

    I know I can''t do anything more. I''m not asking for anything. I just want to say that I miss you!

    Take care, and remember me,

    Fiona."

 Chapter 21 - Letters (8)

    "London, 30th September 1918,

    My Beloved Andermis,

    I hope amidst the flames of the battlefield out there, you are still safe. The intensity of the war must be growing by the day, leaving you with little time to respond to my letters. But it''s okay, my foremost concern is that you are well. Every day, I pray to the Lord. I imagine He must have memorized the phrases I repeat day in and day out. If He truly listens, He will bring you back to me...

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    Countless nights, I''ve laid my head on the pillow, tears smudging the patterns engraved on it. There are no words to convey the depth of my longing. I don''t need any more replies, all I need is you, just you!

    Come back to me...

    Fiona."

 Chapter 21 - Letters (9)

    "London, 11th November 1918,

    Awaiting,

    We''ve triumphed, my dearest Andermis. Now, I need you to keep your promise and return to me. I don''t need you to wait for a sunny day or a misty night. I simply need to see you back, in a vehicle or on foot, wearing tattered clothes or patched pants; whether you''re as handsome as before or not, it doesn''t matter anymore. I just need you, only you, with a heart that beats passionately. As long as your heart still has room for me, even if you were a Beast, I would be your Belle, forever.

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    They say I should stop and learn to accept. But I know I''m a poor student. I''ll never be able to accept that, right, my love? I''ll never accept that I''ve lost you. Please let me be stubborn and unyielding right now. Allow me this one last indulgence in dreaming. I will still live well, as I''ve promised you and everyone else. I''ll keep rising and moving forward, because of what I have.

    Thank you, Andermis, for what we''ve shared.

    Fiona."

 Chapter 22 - Divorcee (1)

    London, Christmas of 1918

    The first Christmas without the smell of gunpowder, yet the echoes of pleas still linger, haunting the alleys and streets. I stand by the window, peering through the curtains, gazing at the world below, feeling a chill deep within. I glance to my side; Augustin sits in his wheelchair, his expression distant as he stares into the distant horizon. Husband and wife, each on their side of the window frame, our viewpoints different, but our hearts ache in the same place. We''ve never been so unified before. Perhaps the absence of one person has created a bond stronger than any of us could imagine, connecting disparate souls to the tolling bell of remembrance.

    "Do you miss Andermis?" I speak softly, my voice trembling, my gaze locked on a distant point. Augustin''s gaze remains steady, fixed on the row of adjacent houses, yet I know he''s conversing with someone. I could have responded with my own determination, showing that I''m no longer the fragile maiden of the past. But I stop, for resistance no longer holds value in this context. I''ve grown tired of the struggle, the futile arguments. My emotions have been numbed by tears, sweat, and the bloodshed of that senseless war. Yet, I try to push forward, compelled by a promise to someone of immense importance. I can''t afford to let him down.

    I check the time with the pocket watch, then clasp it back around my neck. I brush off Augustin''s sentimental words as I weakly say, "It''s time to eat; let me wheel you to the dining room."

    "Still avoiding my question, Fiona."

    Augustin''s persistence is perhaps the only consistent trait he retains over the years. The war has taken his legs, robbed him of the brightest prospects for a grown man, replaced pride with resentment and a lingering sense of bitterness. I know he won''t relinquish that biting determination unless I offer a satisfactory answer. So, I have no real choice.

    "He''s my sunshine, my waterˇ­" My voice wavers and turns somber. "Of course, I miss him."

    "I knowˇ­" Augustin chuckles gently. Beneath that smile, I sense a touch of regret. "You loved him from the moment you met."

    "Please, Augustin!" I attempt to cut short this futile conversation before it escalates into an unnecessary quarrel.

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    "Don''t cut me off, Fiona. You know that, don''t you?" Augustin''s tone turns serious.

    "Are we going to argue about this again?" I retort, my patience waning. "I don''t love anyone else, if that''s what you want to know!"

    "What about me, Fiona?" Augustin''s expression suddenly becomes intense. His gaze is as tranquil as an autumn lake, yet as deep and vast as an uncertain sky. I haven''t seen that look in a long time, a memory lost even to me. His question catches me off guard, and I feel a slight unease, despite not knowing what he''ll say next.

    Augustin raises his head, locking eyes with me, and his hand lifts, showcasing the wedding ring on his finger. After seven years, that ring still shines as brilliantly as it did on our wedding day. Time has flown by so swiftly.

    "Do you ever love me?"

    "Augustinˇ­" I shake my head, unwilling to answer. I don''t know anymore! With Enzo or Andermis, my emotions are clear and vivid. But with this man, I can''t decipher.

    "Answer me, Fiona. I want to know. In case you ask me in return, I want you to know that I''ve always loved you, even when I despised you so much."

    I stand as if on a tightrope, fearful to move lest I fall to the ground. Augustin, positioned as a spectator in the grandstands, ready to judge the performer''s every move. He senses my anxiety, totally controls the situation, without lifting a finger. It all hinges on a question. A question I can''t answer.

    "You''re the kind who can''t love, Augustin. I''m not justifying myself, but every time I tried to love you, your indifference and lack of courage made me recoil," I admit gently. I have genuine affection for him, and I only want to give us a chance to live together. But life isn''t that simple. "Who wants to be trapped in an unhappy marriage? The difference is whether they''re willing to change."

    "So, have we changed, Fiona?" Augustin''s voice turns bitter.

    "I doubt it," I sigh heavily, then release it. "If we had, we wouldn''t be in this situation."

    A heavy silence follows, choking the air, a throbbing beat like the ticking of a clock, striking one by one. The room is filled with the late, lamentable feelings, but there''s nothing left to salvage. The water has already flowed downstream; only the heavens know where it has reached.

    "Let''s go, I''m hungry."

    Augustin''s words carry a heavy heart. Perhaps, from beginning to end, Augustin truly loves what he calls "love" for me, but he channels it as a double-edged sword, thrusting it back at our marriage. If there were another lifetime, I wish I never have to encounter anyone from the trio again. It would be better for all of us. I take a deep breath, then push the wheelchair, leaving the room.

 Chapter 22 - Divorcee (2)

    We complete the Christmas dinner, traditionally a peaceful affair, now solemn and somber. Despite the sumptuous dishes and their delectable flavors, they turn bitter and acrid. Only Francine manages to eat as though nothing has happened. That''s right, I haven''t told her about Andermis yet. I fear that she''ll lose her innocence and purity. Everyone remains tight-lipped about Andermis. Not just for Francine''s sake, but because no one can accept the truth. Andermis hasn''t been enrolled as a fallen soldier. His body has never been found. A sudden attack on his base, and Andermis is believed to be buried beneath the rubble.

    I help Francine to her room first, then stay behind with the family. Their faces all display a mixture of shock and distress, as several misfortunes converge upon the family''s fate. I think perhaps I should wait for another occasion, but how long should I wait? Unpleasant news will remain painful no matter when it''s shared, casting people into resentment or agony. If that''s the case, then I might as well inform them beforehand. I know I''ll never gain instant approval in a snap, so forewarning is a reasonable choice.

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    I signal for the servants to leave the room, in the bewildered gaze of my parents-in-law and Augustin. As the door closes shut, I stand, composed and dignified, ready to make this decision. I don''t want them to think I''m saying this in a moment of emptiness and fragility. I want them to know that I''m determined and won''t stop until I achieve it.

    In the cold of Christmas night, as a curtain of white snow drifts down from the heavens, I proclaim with unwavering conviction:

    "I want a divorce."

 Chapter 22 - Divorcee (3)

    "Madame."

    "Good morning, madame."

    "Madame."

    "Madame, are you going out?"

    I respond to these greetings every early morning as I prepare to leave this house. Today, I have an appointment to visit my dear son, George Rockwell. Landry gave birth to baby George just as I received that dreadful news from the front lines. I thought I wouldn''t be able to bear this heavy burden, and for a moment, I truly believed I couldn''t carry on. It was Landry who helped me through all that time. The tranquility of her small family, along with baby George, acted as a lifebuoy, supporting this fragile existence.

    Landry and I sit together on her balcony, sipping hot milk tea and watching the world below. It''s been a while since I''ve felt comfortable enjoying tea like this, and now I realize that it''s been a long time since I''ve touched a cup of tea. I just can''t bring myself to drink bitter tea anymore.

    "How''s your family?" Landry asks, her expression already anticipating the answer.

    "I''ve torn up the divorce papers for the fifth time," I burst into laughter. "But I still have plenty left."

    "Who tore them? Your husband?" Landry asks in surprise.

    "No," I shake my head. "It''s Mrs. Rose. She laughed gleefully as she shredded my livelihood."

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    "Augustin hasn''t taken any action?" Landry inquires.

    "No, does he ever have any independent thoughts?" I shake my head wearily. "If he did, we might still be living together."

    We fall silent, both pausing for a moment to catch our breaths. The tea cups are only half full now. New Year''s is just a few days away, but why does the emotion feel so tiresome? The New Year''s arrival isn''t timely. No amount of celebration can bring a fallen soldier back to life. Even though the Accord faction emerged victorious, within the nation''s heart, the land and its people are still fractured. All that people can see is division, pain, and resentment. How could they wage war and wield guns with a justification of "peace and independence"? How could they raise a toast with the words "peace" while blood flows beneath their feet, mixed with expensive and luxurious wine? Each day, my heart aches for him, his smile, his eyes as deep and blue as the ocean. I remember the beard that I once politely criticized during our first meeting. I remember the warmth of his embrace and the masculine scent that lingered on my body every time we touched. All those memories have suddenly turned into recollections. Now I can only dream of seeing him again. But in dreams, how can I feel those things?

    George''s cries suddenly pull us back to reality. Landry and I quickly step over to the wooden crib where the baby is fussing after waking up. George must be hungry, so Landry immediately adjusts her clothing to nurse him. I don''t know what to do, so I just stand and watch, feeling an incredibly peaceful sensation. The baby immediately stops crying as soon as he reaches his mother''s breast. In moments like these, a whimsical desire for another child awakens within me. I love Francine, and I feel truly blessed to have her as my daughter. If there were another child now, I wonder how much happier I would feel. I hope for a baby boy, so our home will be even fuller. Visiting Landry and George was truly the right decision for me. Whenever I feel stuck or lose motivation, this little family becomes my lifeline.

    Landry gently pats baby George''s back, and following her rhythm, the little one becomes remarkably calm. It''s at this moment that Landry looks straight into my eyes and says:

    "Fiona, can I say something?"

    "I''m listening," I respond to Landry with a hint of skepticism.

    "Talk to your husband," Landry speaks slowly but firmly. "If he''s as you''ve described, I believe he might give you the answer you want. Don''t avoid it, both of you need to confront each other directly."

    I remain silent, without responding. Could it be that Landry is right, that we''ve been avoiding each other for far too long? Perhaps this apathy inadvertently handed decision-making power to outsiders like my father and mother-in-law. In retrospect, we''ve never really had a private conversation. Who knows, maybe Augustin is the answer I''ve long forgotten.

 Chapter 22 - Divorcee (4)

    "Why did you bring it here, of all places? Did you think I would just sign it?" Augustin''s gaze locks onto the divorce paper that I placed on the table. His expression is inscrutable, a mixture of annoyance, irritation, and a touch of sadness... in every shade of human emotion, I see a bit of it in him.

    I sit down, my hands clasped together. I couldn''t bring myself to meet Augustin''s eyes at first. I feared he would see through my unease and thereby grasp a strategy to counter me. But then I remembered Landry''s words and reflected on myself. I had spent too much time thinking about the villain Augustin had become, completely disregarding the inherent goodness in him. I should not have forgotten that I, myself, contributed to shaping the person he is today. If I could forgive myself, perhaps this was the time to look at him with a different pair of eyes.

    Gathering my courage, I lift my head to look directly at him. My voice resonates with determination as I speak to him, "This is our marriage, Augustin. I believe we both see how cramped this cage has become."

    "And?" Augustin raises an eyebrow. "I happen to like that cage!"

    With those words, he claps his hands onto the armrest of his wheelchair, as if reminding me that he''s the one who truly understands the confinement. I had intended not to show kindness towards him anymore, thinking that confronting him was a mistake. But then, I take a deep breath, gather my composure, and come to a decision. I speak to him with a fervor that lacks any hesitation, "We''ve had opportunities to salvage this marriage, and neither of us took them. Augustin, I feel terrible for not valuing the affection you had for me and for taking full responsibility for the failure of our marriage..."

    "Courageous of you to say that, Fiona," Augustin smiles. "Are you hoping that saying that will make me gladly sign the paper?"

    "I want everything to end when neither of us holds any grudge against each other."

    "What makes you think I won''t hold resentment, Fiona?" Augustin tilts his head slightly, looking surprised. "You''ve hurt me not just once, you know."

    My index finger presses against my other palm to keep myself calm. My mind races at full speed to think of the right words. In silence, I lift my gaze and look directly at Augustin. The man who used to tower over me by two heads is now shorter than me. He sits quietly in his wheelchair, with his fingers rhythmically tapping on the armrest. His thick eyebrows, as if two swords, furrow over his eyes, and the lines of his face seem etched deeper, as if two swords have gouged their way into my flesh. What should I say?

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    "Augustin..." I start hesitatingly. A lump in my throat makes it difficult to get the words out. "Because I know you still love me, and a part of me still feels something for you."

    I had thought that line would be hard to say, but in truth, it''s not as difficult as I imagined. It seems that the feelings I hold for him aren''t as exhausted as I told everyone. It''s not a fleeting remark to flatter him; it''s the truth. Our gazes meet, causing our bodies to freeze in place without a spoken word, as if suspended in time. In a different setting, we could have been incredibly romantic. I can see his body beginning to tremble. From his gaze to the movement of his fingers, I feel as if his heart is knocking on a door. But then Augustin shakes his head, dismissing it all. He chuckles lightly and inquires, "Oh, Fiona, is it that you''re ready to do anything just to get a divorce?"

    "I''ll do anything to live a life of freedom, Augustin," I decisively reply. "But what I''ve said to you, I''m not lying. We''ve been together for eight years, Augustin, haven''t you understood me?"

    Augustin falls into a contemplative silence for a while, and I suppose he grasps the essence of my words. I stand up and move closer to him. In my hand, I hold the wedding ring that I removed at some point. I raise it in front of him, then slowly put it back on my right ring finger instead of the left. Augustin''s expression betrays skepticism when he witnesses this action. Taking a deep breath, I speak resolutely, "Let the good feelings we once shared endure for the time we have left, Augustin. I''m putting this wedding ring back on because I''ve decided to keep the affection you''ve had for me along with what I''ll experience in the days to come."

    Then, I lower myself slightly, allowing our sincere gazes to meet. I''m too exhausted from all the fighting and waiting. Weariness has drained everything from me. I have a good premonition about Augustin. I can sense it. Because above all else, we used to be husband and wife. Despite not wanting to, we each still carry a part of the other within us.

    "Augustin, let the love I''ve held for you stay intact as long as it can. Francine is a product of you and me, and I hope you can consider her..."

    My onslaught leaves Augustin momentarily speechless. His face sinks as he ponders over what I''ve said, his gaze then turning to the divorce paper placed on the table. I step back, creating a space for him to contemplate. I use my hand to brush aside a strand of hair falling over my forehead, and then say, "I''ll let you think about it."

    Finishing my sentence, I reach out to adjust my attire and then turn around to leave. As my hand grasps the door handle, Augustin abruptly calls me back with an exceedingly serious demeanor. I pivot, clasping my hands together, waiting intently.

    It seems to be a significant decision, which is why he can''t respond immediately. It takes a moment, and a few clearing-throat-like sounds as if something''s stuck in his throat, for Augustin to gather the courage to speak. He looks at me, his gaze laden with contemplation. Slowly, he says, "You''ll have an answer on New Year''s Eve."

    Though it''s not a definite or paramount answer, Augustin has at least put me more at ease than before. I look at him and genuinely smile. It''s been a long time since I felt so comfortable facing him. I nod gently in greeting, then step out of the room with great hope and a belief in a promising new beginning.

 Chapter 22 - Divorcee (5)

    On New Year''s Eve in 1919, at the Moderford estate,

    Fireworks burst into the dark sky, breaking four years of concealment beneath gunfire''s glare. Francine and I, along with our loved ones, try to forget sorrows and embrace the new year''s significance. The war ended, pain faded. A fresh start looms. We face the reality that losses are inevitable, yet life must go on. I believe I''m handling it well. I can''t disappoint those I cherish.

    Loved ones dance joyfully under the moonlit night, bonfires casting a warm glow. Peter and Josephine, as Andermis foresaw, are now a couple. Their faces radiate happiness. Even an outsider like me feels touched. Peter performs the traditional Ai-len river dance gracefully, while Josephine''s rural Xc?t-len dance matches his skill. Francine''s curiosity gets the best of her; she joins Josephine''s dance. Francine stumbles cutely, trying her best, becoming irresistibly adorable. I sit on a stone, contentedly watching everyone connect artistically.

    Looking towards the silent house, I see Augustin''s room still lit. I stand up, stepping away from the crowd, gaze fixed on his room. Augustin stands above, pulling back curtains. He notices my attention, gently letting them fall while the light persists. Tonight, Augustin will provide me the answer I''ve longed for. Although I don''t know his answer, I''m not as at ease as I thought. Nonetheless, I must accept the path I''ve chosen. I''ll go to him and embrace the answer.

    After telling a bedtime story to my daughter, I return to my room to prepare. Tonight, I don a white gown, cinched with a faux gold belt. Hair tied high, makeup bolder. Slowly, I approach Augustin''s room. Passing Andermis''s room, I involuntarily stop, touching the door, hoping for warmth. Despite accepting Andermis''s departure, I can''t fully believe it. I can''t bear to think he''d leave again.

    I open the door, a hauntingly cold space inside. No light, no warmth, only faded memories. I stand in a daze, fingertips gliding over once-familiar surfaces. Absentmindedly, I approach the dusty cabinet. I tremble as I open it; nothing remains. Andermis''s belongings are neatly packed in vases in the warehouse. I close the door, standing silently. Perhaps it''s for the best. Tears would flow if I saw his clothes. I leave the room of memories with a beating heart. It''s time to truly accept this reality.

    I enter Augustin''s room, seeing him with his back turned. I stand in silence, watching quietly. His fingers rhythmically tap the armrest, pattern uncertain. Grown individuals burdened with loneliness, unable to find words. Time in this room mirrors our emotions'' depth. It flows like clouds, uncertain of destination. He turns, his gaze hollow as it meets mine. What can we say? Divorce''s agreement isn''t easy, more complicated with Francine. Children are a marriage''s greatest tie. No matter the outcome, Francine will be most affected.

    "Here for my answer?" Augustin''s voice is deep, carrying twilight''s melancholic melody. I sit down, emotions dulled more than I realized.

    "Yes..." Augustin wheels over, something catches, struggles. I help him, untangling threads. He watches as I untangle, self-deprecating smile forming. He comments wryly, "Even threads make me helpless."

    "Don''t say that, Augustin..." I stand, disposing of the threads. Passing the table, I notice divorce papers. Augustin must''ve seen my hidden disappointment. He stays silent, watching me return with gratitude and turmoil.

    "Trust I have conditions?" My eyes widen, not trusting my ears.

    Augustin doesn''t reply immediately, staying quiet. He bows his head, fingers tapping the armrest rhythmically. I know I''m right. Knees come together, palms on thighs. I look up, expression filled with appreciation.

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    "If Francine can be with me, nothing else matters. Any request you have, I''ll comply."

    "I do have a wish..." his voice resonates softly, a bittersweet tone.

    I listen intently, waiting for the demand that could release me from turmoil. Time passes, no words. Augustin turns towards me. I remain vigilant, sitting up straight. I understand what he wants. My heart races, not because I want it, but because I don''t know if I dare. I think of Augustin''s concessions, and I have no choice. Would it be terrible out of guilt? Augustin''s lips meet mine before I think. I''ve come to a point where his touch no longer feels normal. I close my eyes, imagining it''s familiar, but taste and sensation can''t be deceived.

    After a while, he releases my lips. His hands lift my chin, his expression inscrutable as he observes my trembling body, nerves jangling like a plucked string. I lower my head, trying to steady my breath, preventing it from shattering into pieces. Both of us share a look of vulnerability and pressure. Augustin leans back in his chair, silence hanging heavy as he contemplates something. My once sturdy fa?ade begins to crack under his intense gaze. His intertwined fingers gently part, and he softly utters:

    "You can undress now."

    I widen my eyes, looking at him, and even though I anticipated this moment, everything happens so swiftly. I awkwardly stand, unsteady, trying to remove my clothes, but in my confusion, I can''t even manage to unclasp my dress. I turn back to Augustin, my face flushed, slowly pulling off my attire. What am I feeling? Embarrassment, helplessness, or coercion? Surprisingly, all I sense is emptiness.

    "You can stop now," his voice emerges from behind, halting me from shedding more after exposing my bare chest. I hold my clothes to my chest, then turn my head to glance at him. Augustin is right behind, holding the divorce papers still damp with ink. I furrow my brows, looking at him in disbelief. Tonight, Augustin has taken me from one surprise to another. Suspicion rises, and I pull my clothes back on, then take the divorce papers from his hand. His eyes carry a haunting look, tinted with a lingering sadness. It''s been a while since I''ve seen him cry. Tears streak down his face, not bursting or overflowing, just quietly cascading. I whisper his name softly, yet my own tears join the stream. Augustin struggles to push his wheelchair, refusing my help when I reach out. He turns away, shielding his emotions from my view. But how can I not know? The stifled sounds caught in his throat morph into quiet sobs. Never have I seen Augustin so exposed, vulnerable. No, it''s not vulnerability. When a man dares to cry in front of a woman, he''s truly strong to be able to do that. I won''t call it humiliation or emasculation; it''s a unique, beautiful, and sincere side of him. His heart aches as he signs the divorce papers, signifying his love for me, allowing me to seek my own happiness. Not every man can do that. We might not have a lifelong bond, but now Augustin will have a place in my heart.

    "Thank you, Augustin," I softly speak with a tone of gratitude.

    "Even if I tried to find the woman I married, as you said, she''s gone," Augustin''s voice trembles, a tinge of melancholy still present.

    "She''s gone," I slowly affirm. "But I believe she''ll love you again for doing this for me. You don''t know what it means to me."

    "I do know," Augustin sighs with regret. "Now you can pursue your own happiness."

    I remain silent, unable to utter a word. I bow my head, revisiting the old memories of Augustin and me. I wish things could have ended differently. At this moment, there''s so much to wish for, but the forces are at odds, and there''s nothing more I can do.

    Suddenly, I burst into a gentle laughter. For the first time in years of marriage, all the uncertainties seem to have dissipated completely. I walk lightly to his side. Augustin looks surprised, his eyes still bearing traces of those long tears. I sit down, tilt my head up to meet his gaze, then smile. After that, I lean in, kissing him deeply, a kiss far from the forced one earlier. I know this is what he needed all along, as I can now hear his heart returning to its regular beat, and the surge of happiness radiating from within him. After a while, I release his lips, and sweetly say:

    "This is the kiss of the woman you married. Thank you, Augustin."

    Seeing Augustin''s satisfied smile, I know I''ve done the right thing. I leave his room in a euphoric daze. Oh! I can hardly believe that after so many years, I can finally feel both physical and spiritual freedom. Yet, I can''t stop thinking about Augustin. He has shown me his beautiful side. All this time, I had been mistaken, even resentful. I might not be able to love him again, but I hope someday Augustin will find another woman, someone more deserving than me, to love him, care for him, and cherish him. As for me, perhaps by then, Francine and I will be under a different sky! We''re heading to Paris. Though I haven''t figured out what I''ll do or how I''ll make a living, I''ve decided to begin my new life there. Andermis and I had once thought about coming here, and even though he''s no longer with us, I''ll still keep my promise.

    Paris, it''s just around the corner!

 Chapter 22 - Divorcee (6)

    London, May 1919, Aries Mansion.

    I open the door to Augustin''s room and step inside. Today, I''ve adorned myself in a black and gold striped dress, with a half-tilted hat and just the right amount of makeup. Augustin is also wearing a neatly pressed, incredibly comfortable-looking shirt. I smile at him, my cheeks tinged with pink. Augustin nods in greeting, just like the first time we met at the party. Between us now are only polite gestures, gentlemen, and sophisticated ladies. The process of divorce and property division between us has finally concluded. I grow stronger by the day, while Augustin is beginning to find his own voice. This time, he''s the one protecting my mother and me from Lady Rose and Lord Lionel. He''s even helped me connect with his acquaintances as well as Andermis''s in France. He''s assisted with accommodation and relationships to provide support in times of need, while I''ll have to seek employment and pursue my own dreams in that new land. I can''t ask for more. My life has been shaped by three men, and all three have shaped me into who I am today. A truly empowered and valuable woman!

    Augustin wheels over to me, then exclaims and chuckles. Despite the passing years and numerous changes, I can''t deny that he still looks dashing and elegant. Augustin takes my hand and says, "You look beautiful."

    "Thank you, Augustin," I smile and reply. "You still look as wonderful as the first time I saw you."

    "But weren''t you despising me back then?" Augustin teases. "When are you boarding the train?"

    "The train departs at 8 o''clock. Barry will take us to the station shortly," I gently say.

    "Has Francine packed all her stuffed animals?" His face carries a hint of wordless sadness.

    I nod, suddenly swept up in his melancholy mood. I sigh, my gaze heavy and sincere, asking:

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    "Don''t you want to say a final goodbye to her?"

    Augustin can''t respond immediately, as if he''s reconsidering his decision. I can see the inner struggle and turmoil in his eyes. It''s not an easy decision, knowing that his only daughter will soon leave England, perhaps never to return. I can''t fathom why he insists on taking the difficult path. I don''t want him to regret his hasty decisions as I once did. The feeling is like a splinter lodged in my heart, and each beat of it sends a sharp pang. Augustin has become an integral part of me, so I can''t bear the thought of him going through that pain. I step closer, urged by the ticking of the clock, and offer a caring suggestion:

    "You should go and meetˇŞ"

    "No, it''s better this way, Fiona," Augustin interrupts. "I know it''s hard for me, but it''s better for Francine if we keep our distance."

    His voice becomes subdued and laden with emotions. He wheels closer to the window, gazing down below. I join him, sharing his view. I softly smile with tranquility when I spot Francine down there. She''s hugging the servants in farewell. She''s grown fond of them, especially young Arvin, Mrs. Patmore''s grandson. Those two have been inseparable, only it''s regrettable that they have to part ways now. Standing here, I can see tears streaming down Arvin''s cheeks like a waterfall as he reluctantly says goodbye. I believe the little boy cherishes Francine dearly, and she''ll be just as heartbroken to leave our little friend behind. I turn to Augustin, and a satisfied smile graces his lips. He softly says:

    "I didn''t want it to be like this. Francine has shed enough tears. Besides, when you take one more step, she won''t feel so far away."

    Augustin turns to me, smiling reassuringly. He takes my hand, a final caress before it becomes a memory. Then he glances at the clock, shifting his gaze to meet mine. He breathes out a long sigh, laced with a sense of peace. Smiling, he says:

    "Be happy."

    "Goodbye, Augustin."

    I lean in, pressing a deep kiss on his forehead, my body light as a feather as I step away. Before completely leaving, I halt and look back at him once more. Augustin turns to meet my gaze. I will dearly miss the memories in this house, and this man. I smile with genuine happiness and say:

    "Francine will always be your daughter. I''m certain that will never change!"

    "I know."

    And then, that''s the last time we see each other. I close the door with a sense of closure and descend to the lower floor. I don''t forget to bid farewell to Lady Rose and Lord Lionel. To be fair, they''ve contributed significantly to the person I''ve become today. I bid farewell to the family members who stand there to see me off, then board the carriage with Francine and depart.

 Chapter 22 - Divorcee (7)

    Countless times I''ve left this house, each time turning my head back as if an invisible chain were tugging at my throat, but now I can look straight ahead without hesitation. The wheels roll steadily, harmonizing with the soft tinkling of the wheels gliding over pebbles. I never realized how beautiful these two paths have been all these years. The lush green rows of trees, linked together like endless mountain ranges. Occasionally, I catch sight of a few small houses with red smoke rising, carrying the scent of burning pine in the middle of the fields. I feel an immense sense of peace. So, this is what it feels like to live life on your own terms! I''ve finally found it!

    An emotional farewell takes place at the train station. My mother, Diana, Thena, and David, everyone is in tears. I don''t know what else to do except promise that I''ll be okay and that I''ll write often. Francine is constantly "receiving" hugs and head pats from her uncles and aunts, to the point where she cries and demands to be held by her mother. Today, Landry, Eddie, and little George also bid me farewell. We stand here, hand in hand, eyes locked, yet lost for words beyond well-wishes and promises.

    Saying goodbye has never been easy. It''s hard to bid farewell to those who have shared so many memories, knowing that they will remain here. Francine and I step onto the train releasing smoke into the bright sky with eyes brimming with nostalgia. The smoke drifts westward, while the train heads east. I stand on the platform gazing at their figures growing smaller and smaller until they vanish completely. Francine must have seen my reddened eyes, as she approaches and hugs me. I hold her, letting her take one last look at her homeland. My tears flow forward, but they are tears of hope. The train whistle sounds three times in succession. The waves lap beneath the train, and an unfamiliar feeling begins. I stand there, watching as the world that once meant everything to me slowly shrinks, until even the train seems solitary amid the vast, desolate sea.

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    In my hand, I hold the worn and tattered fabric bag I knitted for him. The day it was returned to my possession was also the day I received news of his passing. Inside the envelope, along with hastily written letters, are short poems he composed to alleviate the moments of longing. I smile faintly. I''ve held on for too long, it seems. For years, I couldn''t confront it, as I thought he had left, taking his remaining sky with him. The train whistle snaps me back to the present. I will live for him. Not because I will forget him like the other men who''ve passed through my life, but quite the oppositeˇŞbecause I love them. If I still have time, I''ll continue to cling to and cherish it. They are my purpose in life, the ideals I will pursue. Those beloved men have taught me invaluable lessons. I may be a slow learner, but eventually, I will grasp them.

    I let go, dropping the knit bag deep into the cold ocean. For a moment, there''s a twinge of regret, but then a sense of lightness. I smile gently, then step down from the railing. The old chapter is closed, and now I''ll begin the pages of a new one. I sit in my room, a fresh notebook in my hands. Holding the pen, my face contemplates, wondering where to start. Then I smile as if I''ve discovered a masterpiece centuries in the making. I diligently write the first lines.

    "My name is Fiona, Fiona Lamstrong-Mortenˇ­"

 Final - The First Tango (1)

    Paris, April 1927

    The doorbell''s faint chime alerted me that I was running late, prompting me to rush down the stairs while adjusting my earrings. I hastily grabbed my purse, draped a scarf around my shoulders, glanced at my daughter in the living room and bid her a quick farewell before stepping out the door. I felt flustered, revealing my inner turmoil to Christophe, who stood outside in a very formal attire. I apologized awkwardly, "I''m sorry, I look a mess."

    "Not at all, you look amazing!" Christophe smiled, "I really like how you''ve paired your outfit with that scarf. Very French!"

    "Francine picked it out for me!" I replied proudly, "Francine, come say hi to Uncle!"

    Francine, her golden hair shimmering, stepped out to greet him before returning to her room, engrossed in the latest books of some enigmatic author. Eight years have passed, and Francine is now a thirteen-year-old girl. It feels like just yesterday I was carrying her in my arms, feeding and changing diapers; like just yesterday she clung to me, refusing to let go. Now she''s growing up and carving out her own world. Every time I see her growing taller, I''m both happy and melancholic. I''m sad because the thread binding us will gradually thin. There will come a time when Francine will leave this house, following the call of her heart. There will come a time when she won''t need my embrace anymore. But isn''t that the way of all parent-child relationships? Whenever I think about it that way, the sadness fades. Instead, I feel more joyful and proud than ever because Francine is the greatest achievement of my life!

    Christophe opened the car door for me. I agreed to have dinner with him as a token of gratitude for his help in a recent litigation. Christophe Ridden is a colleague in my law firm. Somehow, at 36, I''ve managed to maintain a youthful appearance. If I didn''t mention my age, no one would know that I already have a grown daughter and I''m about to turn forty. It''s clear that Richard is infatuated with me. He''s relentlessly pursued me, though he''s never formally declared his feelings. Perhaps I''m mistaken, but I can''t help but notice his affection. In terms of love experience, I don''t think I''m falling behind anyone.

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    Over the past eight years, there were moments when I felt dreadfully lonely. A single woman living in a foreign land, with a growing daughter, yearning for a man''s presence to love and share life with, it burned fiercely inside me. Yet day by day, month by month, and year by year, I remained alone, and everything carried on steadily. I realized I can survive alone. But is that really living? I also yearn to love once more. Many French men have courted me, but my attempts at dating felt empty. I no longer felt that fiery passion. Am I too old to understand the feeling of love? Christophe, oh, I don''t know if this time will end as abruptly as the previous ones. I cherish him, and sometimes, I genuinely feel something for him, but I''m not sure if he''s the one to walk with me in the years ahead.

    We stopped at a restaurant named Le Fou, where he had reserved a table outside so we could gaze at the stars and the fountain across the street. At night, this place becomes a gathering spot for street performers, people who have no home to sleep in, where a jingling tambourine, a guitar, or a worn violin are their only companions. They play as if it''s their last day on earth. They play like saints, like gods. They''re not bound by any particular song. The melody flows from their hearts and fills the space around them. I couldn''t even focus on my sizzling steak, as I observed them. So liberated! So proud! They''re channeling the melodies of the divine, from a realm of mystery within their hearts. My fingers, long untouched, awakened after years. I didn''t bring a violin to Paris, and I thought I had forgotten all the notes. But perhaps I was mistaken; music never truly left me. It''s become a part of me!

    "Don''t you like it?"

    Christophe''s voice pulled me from my musical reverie. I looked at his nearly finished steak, mine still untouched. I laughed bashfully and took a bite. The beef was tender, juicy, with the rich flavors of French butter and garlic, combined with the aroma of thyme in a harmonious symphony of tastes inside my mouth. Truth be told, this might be one of the most delicious meals I''ve ever had.

    But why is there still something missing, why do I feel unsatisfied? I looked up, met Christophe''s curious gaze, and felt a bit overwhelmed. I smiled softly, responding, "This is the best steak I''ve ever had."

    Christophe chuckled and said nothing more, and both of us continued our meal. I tried to finish my steak, but my mind remained entwined with those street performers. Then I paused and looked at Christophe, and suddenly, my heart opened up to more questions. He''s a good man, gallant and a great listener. Without him, I might still be a woman trapped in an empty office at 34 Rue de la Paix. Without him, I might still be defending petty theft cases. I value Christophe, but whether I love him, I''m unsure. I don''t know anymore. I want to love again, but the past keeps haunting me. Oh, what should I do?

 Final - The First Tango (2)

    We left Le Fou''s restaurant and headed towards the Paris Opera House. The movie we were going to watch tonight was ''Napoleon,'' a silent film depicting the historical life of the misguided general. I tried to push away other thoughts from my mind and focus on the movie, but doubts continued to linger. I glanced at Christophe, who was smiling like a child, and my heart felt both light and heavy. Every time I faced him, I saw Andermis. I had never discussed my past with him, nor had I mentioned the man I loved. I didn''t want Christophe to know that there was a striking resemblance between him and Andermis in terms of appearance. I didn''t want him to misunderstand that I accepted his date only because of his looks. But... what if that was the real reason? If I came to Christophe because of his appearance, would it be fair to both him and me? Part of me wanted to hold on tightly, while the other part felt compelled to let go, unable to make a decisive choice. I might be getting older, but I wasn''t growing wiser. Selfishness still lingered, slowly corroding my rationality once again.

    On our way back, Christophe kept asking about my feelings. In front of him, I could only manage simple "yes" and "no" responses. The outing would have been enjoyable if I hadn''t been so hard on myself. Seeing Christophe genuinely happy, I couldn''t bear to make him sad. It was now midnight in Paris, with a serene sky accompanying the chilly mischievous breeze that found its way into the gaps of our clothes. We strolled along empty streets, passing by darkened rows of houses. Perhaps the only people awake in this glamorous Paris were those who couldn''t sleep due to empty stomachs, pondering how they would manage the next day. In the distance, a few dimly lit shacks remained, a couple of fortune tellers still peered into glass crystals, old rusty coins, and abandoned tarot cards of a Gypsy woman lay strewn about.

    "Is there something you don''t like?" Christophe''s question startled me out of my reverie.

    "Oh?," his question brought me back to reality abruptly.

    "You seem rather quiet today," his voice rang like a gentle piano melody. "Did our outing disappoint you?"

    "No!," I shook my head. "I just feel a bit tense... It''s been a while since I had an outing like this."

    "A date, you mean!," he chuckled.

    "Yes, a date...," I lowered my head, smiling softly. "Who would think a thirty-six-year-old woman still goes on dates!"

    "I don''t mind!," Christophe shrugged. "After all, I''m forty."

    "You''re a man, it''s different."

    "Even if you''re sixty, I''d still pursue you."

    As he spoke, Christophe suddenly halted right in the middle of a nearby building''s archway. I instinctively clung to his arm, and thus our steps came to a pause. Both of us stood there, facing each other in a silent moment. Oh, how could Christophe resemble Andermis like this? Under the dimly lit night, my heart raced for a man who looked like my love. How could I become so sinful? I couldn''t control my heartbeat and emotions anymore. In an instant, my body felt numb. What should I do now?

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    Christophe slowly leaned down to place a kiss on my lips. I wanted to refuse him, but the longing and vulnerability of my heart didn''t allow me to do so. My feet lifted slightly to receive that kiss. And then, we kissed. In a brief moment of awareness, I saw Enzo, Augustin, and Andermis. All three of them looked at me with disappointment. They were not only criticizing me for taking another step, but also for causing more pain to another man. Especially Andermis. His gaze toward me was no longer as gentle as before. All I could sense from him was a pang of heartbreak and disappointment. In that moment, I knew this kiss was wrong. I didn''t think I loved Christophe, yet I accepted that kiss, even embraced its intensity. But this kiss held no flavor, it was just empty excess. I couldn''t! I couldn''t do this anymore! I had to put an end to it before things went too far!

    I pushed him away in anguish, not allowing Christophe to conclude that kiss. Tears streamed down my face as I kept apologizing and then ran without caring into a dimly lit alleyway. I hugged myself, crying, leaning against the wall, and eventually kneeling down. I had shattered my faith with God, and He was punishing me for my disbelief. I would never experience true love. I would never love anyone again!

    Eventually, Christophe found me sitting huddled like the little match girl on Christmas night. He stood there for a while, not saying a word. I looked up at him, my eyes filled with teary trails. I shook my head, guilt-ridden, and said:

    "I can''t, Chris..."

    In that moment, a part of me expected a face filled with disappointment. He could have been angry, cursed at me, or even left me alone here, and I wouldn''t have protested because I deserved it. But surprisingly, Christophe extended his hand before me, appearing like a lifebuoy to rescue this sinking life. I stared at him in astonishment, a tinge of emptiness in my heavy heart. I took his hand, then slowly stood up.

    Christophe pulled out a scented handkerchief from his pocket and gently wiped away the tears that were drying due to the gentle breeze at the corner of my eye. His heart must have been aching and torn too, but his nobility was surpassing it all. Christophe slowly led me to a spot illuminated by a nearby street lamp. Beneath the twinkling night lights, Christophe stood tall and forgiving. His shadow enveloped me entirely, with a heart gentle enough to warm this cold and desolate soul. How could someone like me, a woman with a painful past, encounter such good-hearted men? I wished I could see a bit differently so that I wouldn''t have to agonize when stepping beside him. A good man like Christophe deserved more than being a replacement for someone else. My gaze carried a hint of remorse, my hand gripping his tightly, I asked:

    "Aren''t you going to ask me anything?"

    "I''ll let you tell me when you''re ready," Christophe smiled gently in response.

    "And what if I''m never ready?"

    "Then it''s quite clear we won''t get very far!," Christophe replied with an untroubled demeanor. "However, I do genuinely want to know."

    "About what?" I nodded, asking.

    "Why you rejected me," a tinge of sadness appeared on his face. "I''ve lived long enough and experienced enough to understand when a woman turns down my affections, Fiona."

    We stood in silence for a moment before I could open up and share with him what was weighing heavily on my mind right now. This was the first time I had talked about my past to someone of the opposite sex. The moon followed our footsteps like a line of chicks following their mother. Not needing to know where we were going, the moonlight continued to shine as if we held the keys to the night. I told him everything about me, laying myself bare like an old sweater beneath the bed. I told him about Enzo, about the unwilling husband, and about the lover who disappeared without a trace. I told him why I couldn''t take another step forward, how I still felt fearful after all these years, and how I hadn''t truly moved on from my old love. I rejected Christophe because I couldn''t continue being a villain and dragging him into a shadow. I valued him and felt something for him, so I had to build a barrier around the gates of my heart.

 Final - The First Tango (3)

    Christophe opened the door for me to step out. It was now two in the morning, and I stood right in front of house number 38 on Cr¨¦mieux Street. I looked at my house, then turned to see Christophe still waiting politely, leaning against the car''s body. His face held a gentle smile, shielding me from embarrassment or shame. I tried to find words to say to him, but I felt too weak to open up again. After a brief moment of contemplation, I realized words were unnecessary. I simply nodded in lieu of a farewell and turned to go inside. However, as my hand reached for the door handle, Christophe suddenly spoke:

    "Fiona?"

    "Yes?" I immediately turned back.

    "Will we still be as we were?" Christophe''s eyes bore a seriousness that was unusual.

    "I was actually going to ask you the same thing..." I smiled and replied. "Will we still be good friends?"

    "Then you can rest assured!" Christophe let out a sigh of relief. "Until next time, Fiona."

    "See you later, Chris."

    A seemingly ordinary conversation, yet incredibly significant for the two of us. I had been so anxious, fearing that I might lose a genuinely sincere connection. I opened the door to the house, ready to conclude my long day, but I paused as Christophe began to speak again.

    "Fiona..."

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    I listened as his voice grew deeper, more earnest than before. Christophe looked down at the tips of his shoes, his hands tucked into his pockets. I stood upright, waiting for what he was about to express. Insects hummed softly, like tiny lights illuminating the street. Christophe then raised his gaze to meet mine. As if he had carefully thought through his words, he spoke with genuine sincerity:

    "If at any point you''ve truly moved on from your past love, and if I still haven''t found peace with anyone, I hope you might consider giving me a chance."

    At first, I didn''t know how to respond to his words. I thought it might be a jest until I peered deeply into those blue eyes. I knew it was a heartfelt and serious proposition. I bit my lip gently, lowered my head in thought. I needed to delve deep into my emotions. I wanted to be truly sure about what I was about to say. They say hope is the death of reason. I didn''t want anyone to lose their faith because of a mistake or an immature feeling. But I also didn''t want this loneliness to linger forever. I was getting older, and I could feel the current of time flowing cyclically through this body. I wanted to age with the person I loved. Life only had meaning when you loved and were loved in return, and I was ready to embrace that!

    I smiled at him, a smile that held both confidence and sincerity. With a soft yet genuine tone, I spoke:

    "I don''t want you to wait for me alone," I hesitated, letting an air of mystery hang in the words. "But if that were to truly happen, I will consider it."

    A radiant smile lit up Christophe''s lips, and I knew he felt immense joy and happiness. We said our final goodbyes, truly this time, and each of us walked away in different directions. I stood in the room, gazing after his departing car, a gentle smile lingering on my lips.

    Francine had fallen asleep at some point, and all I could do was stand by the door, watching the tranquility that enveloped my daughter. She had resilience and a greater capacity for healing than I did. Three years ago, we returned to England to see my mother for the last time before she passed away. At that time, I also shared with Francine about Andermis''s departure. She became more desperate than ever. She cried so much, for so long, and even went through a period of fasting. But now, much of that pain seemed to have faded away from her. Perhaps she inherited a bit of her father''s ability to let go. Oh, Francine! Looking at her now, I felt warmth and a sense of peace. I hoped her life would remain as serene as this, at least in love.

    In the quiet night, I faced myself once again. Tonight was another sleepless night. I sat in front of the mirror, gazing pensively at my reflection. I tilted my head slightly, a wrinkle near my eye becoming prominent. This beauty was slowly approaching its expiration date. No springtime could last forever. I had truly aged! Would I have enough time left to continue dreaming? There were too many questions to face tonight. I sighed heavily. Tonight was another sleepless night.

 Final - The First Tango (4)

    Paris, August 1927, Windrose Villa.

    I attended the ball with a sense of unease that couldn''t be shaken. A recent setback in court this morning, where the witness for my side miraculously altered their testimony, had left me at a disadvantage. To add to it, Andermis''s enigmatic pocket watch might not be ticking anymore. And not stopping at that, my daughter Francine had experienced her first bout of "becoming a woman," marking her transition from girlhood. I had a busy day to contend with, yet here I was, obligated to attend this party. How could I refuse? The host was Madelynn, who was also one of my closest friends. She had implored me to attend her bachelorette party. Tomorrow, Madelynn would be marrying Mr. Leo Murray, a World War veteran nearly a decade her senior.

    Madelynn had treated me well in the initial years when I arrived in France. We started as roommates in the same row of houses. She was three years younger than me, a French country girl who had come to the city to pursue her education. Madelynn''s dream was to become a nurse. She met Mr. Leo at the hospital, and over time, their connection deepened into love. Madelynn and I had stayed in touch even after she moved out of that row of houses. So, I couldn''t possibly miss an important day for Madelynn because of my own troubles. And here I was, present in this lavish setting, where everyone was dressed elegantly and alluringly, hoping that after tonight, they wouldn''t be single anymore.

    For nearly half the party, I remained in a corner, observing everyone while nursing a glass of wine, nibbling on some crackers. I wore a dress of emerald green and a feathered mask concealing my eyes. It was Madelynn''s theme for the eveningˇŞto dress as one''s inner self. No one''s identity was to be revealed, and everyone attended with a sense of mystery and thrill. This concept of Madelynn''s was born from her own experience with her husband-to-be. Mr. Leo had been injured on his face, and Madelynn had to wear a mask during their courtship. They connected through words, stories, and thoughtful actions, slowly bringing them closer without ever seeing each other''s faces. I had to commend Madelynn for her unique and meaningful idea, but honestly, at times, the mask felt suffocating against my skin. I yearned to take it off, even remove my gown and leave, but I pushed these thoughts aside for Madelynn''s sake. I sighed, and then sighed again, and silently buried myself in a corner, in sync with the ticking of the clock. Tick... tock... Tick... tock...

    Finally, Madelynn noticed my visible discomfort in this overly crowded event. She excused herself from a conversation with guests and came over to me in her crimson dress, clapping me on the shoulder, and exclaimed in excitement:

    "Come on, Fiona, cheer up! Today is my joyful day!"

    "Isn''t tomorrow the official day?" I teased. "You''re saving up emotions for tomorrow, aren''t you?"

    "I know you so well, Fiona. You don''t have to hide it!"

    "Okay, okay!" I sighed. "I just feel so out of place and distant!"

    "Then let me introduce you to some gentlemen!" Madelynn enthused.

    "No need..."

    "Do you see the tallest man among that trio over there? That''s Mr. Eug¨¦ne Warren, a prominent businessman in the textile industry. He''s been divorced once and is currently single."

    Madelynn hardly cared whether I wanted to mingle or not, she continued introducing me to one man after another. She went on and on, forgetting the rule of maintaining guests'' anonymity. Counting again and again, there were probably more than ten distinguished gentlemen she had showcased.

    While appreciative of Madelynn''s patience, I felt overwhelmed by the pedigrees of these men. Editors, war veterans, even a heart-throbbing doctor. Despite hearing all these grand titles, I couldn''t sense an ounce of substance behind those names. Fortunately, Madelynn was pulled away by her friends, and I was freed from the list of those refined and charming men. Of course, I intended to find someone, but it had to be someone who resonated on a deeper level, not just a hollow title.

    I waited for what felt like an eternity, so much so that I lost track of time. The tedium was sapping my energy, to the point that I fell asleep without realizing it. I slouched in a corner, looking quite pitiful. If not for the dress I was wearing, someone might have mistaken me for a market woman. My head nodded like a pecking chicken, groggily drooping like a pile of crumpled paper trying to reform into a sphere. I hadn''t realized I was nearly collapsing on the floor when a pair of hands caught me just in time.

    I awoke from my drowsy slumber. Before me stood a man, of course, wearing a mask. I recognized him, though. Madelynn had mentioned his name, but curiously, I couldn''t recall who he was other than being a children''s book author. Before I could fully gather my senses, he smiled amiably and initiated conversation:

    "Is the party that dull for you, madam?"

    "Thank you," I tilted my face away from his hand, responding with a grateful expression.

    "I''m aware of the party''s rule against disclosing identities, but I find it rather impolite if a gentleman doesn''t introduce himself to a lady," the man spoke with a layer of elegance, impressing me completely. "I am Daresmin Lambert."

    "You''re the novelist, aren''t you?" I exclaimed in astonishment.

    "Yes, that''s me. I''m surprised you know me, as I tend to keep a low profile."

    "I''m Fiona, a family law attorney."

    "Quite impressive!"

    I held his hand, our fingers interlocking, and suddenly a strange feeling surged within me. I didn''t know who he was behind that mask, yet there was something about him that felt incredibly familiar. For a moment, I behaved quite rudely, staring at him intensely. I didn''t want to appear as if I were swooning, but his jawline seemed oddly close. Not only that, his lips, his nose, they resembled someone I once knew, someone I loved and cherished. Despite the dim lighting in the room, as faint as fireflies'' glow, I could make out every detail perfectly. I knew I was being foolish, entertaining such thoughts, but I couldn''t help myself. Emotions inside me swelled like crashing waves. The most terrifying thing wasn''t accepting that someone was no longer here, it was confronting those who bore an uncanny resemblance to past acquaintances. Christophe was a case in point, and now, here, I was faced with someone so similar again.

    "Why is my face sticky?" His words snapped me out of the dreamlike trance. It was just a person resembling someone, after all. Why hadn''t I learned my lesson by now? I quickly shook my head and responded, "It''s nothing... it''s just that you remind me of someone I know."

    "Can you recognize even with this mask?" Daresmin''s surprise was evident in his voice.

    I offered a faint smile, using the mask as an excuse to be candid and open. I didn''t know why I was doing it, but words poured out freely from my lips. Daresmin wasn''t privy to who I was, after all, so maybe that''s why I felt I could express myself so openly.

    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    "He used to be my light, my elixir, and my warmth. He used to be everything to me. I would be cursed not to recognize him." Daresmin seemed taken aback by my words, as if surprised a lady could utter them so frankly. I hadn''t expected much of a response from someone I''d just met, though there was an uncanny connection I couldn''t explain. Surprisingly, he seemed genuinely intrigued by what I shared. He chuckled, his demeanor light, and asked, "But you almost mistook me for him?"

    "Just a resemblance, that''s all!" I shook my head with a chuckle. "But you do bear quite a resemblance."

    "Should I be happy or sad about that?"

    "Perhaps you should stay away from me," I replied playfully. "No one near me seems to have a good outcome."

    "Then my latest book is surely doomed!" he quipped.

    We exchanged amused glances and laughed together. Moments ago, I had appeared serious or disappointed with myself, and now I was laughing like a child while conversing with him. I let out a sigh of relief. I hadn''t expected a stranger to engage with me so easily. His presence reminded me of Andermis. When we first met, he approached me in a similar manner. Penetrating my fa?ade, teasing me, and making me laugh. Even my lips felt moist from that humor. While I didn''t need to jest or engage in any silly banter, and regardless of the formalities or pretense, without any hidden agendas, Daresmin effortlessly overcame my defenses with that tone.

    Oh! If Daresmin spoke English, I might have truly believed he was Andermis!

    My mind raced back to Andermis. The first encounter had been similar. Looking into my core, playfully teasing, and making me laugh. Even some of his story elements were similar. Could it really be a coincidence of this magnitude? I wished I could just remove the mask now, immediately, yet a final shred of dignity held me back. What if it were Andermis? If he were alive, why hadn''t he tried to contact or find me in all these years? Why approach me now? But if Daresmin wasn''t Andermis, then was I just making a fool of myself? No matter the outcome, I was powerless.

    Suddenly, a drop of insight fell into the tranquil pond of my thoughts. I lifted my head, locking eyes with him, a gaze of determination. I grabbed his hand after a prolonged internal struggle. I held his hand not because he resembled Andermis or because of the feelings he stirred. I held his hand because Daresmin was the only one who approached me out of all the ladies out there. He chose to engage with me even when I was concealed beneath this mask. He chose me because of me, and maybe it was time I did the same.

    As I reached for his hand, it wasn''t about the resemblance, the familiarity, or even the potential feelings he might evoke. It was about him, about us, about the choice he had made to step forward into my world, into the realm of a mysterious stranger. And now, maybe it was my turn to take that step.

    "Daresmin led me into the bustling dance floor, keeping pace with the others. One of my hands held his, the other rested on his shoulder, while he placed his on my waist. Our bodies swayed to the gentle rhythm of the music, like a stream flowing smoothly through its course. The feeling of suffocation had lifted completely. Everything seemed to loosen up in his presence. I had chosen him for himself, yet I couldn''t ignore the uncanny resemblance between the two of them. My heart pounded erratically as I felt the warmth his hand provided. And this fragranceˇ­ How could I mistake it? Beneath this layer of perfume, there was something that still lingered from Andermis. I tried to suppress the emotions that threatened to overwhelm me right now. But I couldn''t be sure if it was him, and I couldn''t directly ask. Left with no other choice, I had to rely on my scarce luck. I cleared my throat lightly and cautiously said:

    "Andermis?"

    "Who?," Daresmin looked surprised.

    I felt disappointment wash over me. I had hoped for a startled or dazed reaction from Daresmin, yet perhaps I was overthinking things. I smiled apologetically and shook my head:

    "I''m sorryˇ­ For a moment, I thought you were my Andermisˇ­ I shouldn''t have treated you that way!"

    "Do I really look that much like him?," Daresmin gazed at me with eyes full of depth.

    "Yesˇ­," I nodded. "It''s ironic, fate always wants me to face people who share the same appearance and featuresˇ­"

    Melodic notes of the music filled the air like heavenly harmonies. Everyone in the room seemed intoxicated by the lavender scent on their faces. I thought I could finally dance comfortably again, but the profound love I held for Andermis remained restless. He had left with countless promises left unfulfilled. Every passing day, I waited, just because of his single promise. I even felt anxious on sunny days, as he had once casually mentioned he would return on such a day. But what was left after all those nine years? I was growing weary from this waiting, yet I couldn''t resist it.

    Daresmin''s hand on my hip suddenly tightened. I sensed a firm grip from that position. I looked up at him, but by now, Daresmin had lowered his head slightly. I wanted to inquire why he seemed so emotional. I didn''t want to appear rude in our first meeting. But before I could ask, the music changed, becoming more intimate. Daresmin didn''t dare to look up at me, as if intentionally avoiding my gaze. And then, with a voice quivering with emotion, he spoke:

    "What if he''s still alive?"

    I froze for a moment. No, it felt like I was turning to stone upon hearing him. My intuition seemed to whisper something about this man. My feelings about him, from the first encounter, were becoming clearer. I couldn''t say anything until he repeated the question. My lips trembled slightly:

    "If he were truly alive, he''d surely never stop searching for meˇ­"

    "What if he''s been searching, but in ways you haven''t realized?," Daresmin continued with concern. "What if he''s been dropping hints that you couldn''t see?"

    "I don''t need hints, or riddles. I just need Andermis to appear right in front of meˇ­," I choked on my breath as I uttered those words.

    "What if he vanished for reasons that he couldn''t control?"

    "What reason could cause someone to disappear for such a long time?," I shook my head, speaking with tears welling up in my eyes.

    Unintentionally, we moved toward the center of the room, where all the lights converged upon us. I could hear murmurs from beneath the mask. My lips pressed tightly, holding back a torrent of emotions. Daresmin''s hand on my hip slowly retreated. He hesitated for a moment, then raised his face. Were those tears? For some reason, the corner of my eye was dampening even before he did anything. Daresmin''s trembling arm reached up, gradually removing the mask that hid his face. My eyes widened like two open windows, eagerly welcoming the morning sun of a new day. The atmosphere seemed to freeze around us. There was no music, no movements, only me and Daresmin. Or rather, Andermis.

    "For this reason, Fionaˇ­"

    That voice, in English, returned like a magical elixir, awakening all the memories I had gathered over the years. I might not be able to see Andermis in that face anymore. The faded burns, the prominent scars had marred the familiar features. But I couldn''t forget his sweet voice. That sound had saved me throughout that time. It was inspiration, burning love, an addictive drug that I willingly indulged in, knowing it could be harmful, yet diving in without regret. I hadn''t uttered a word since Daresmin removed that mask. How could it take me so long to realize that the man I was talking to was, in fact, him all along?

    "He never stopped loving you, Fiona, all these years. He was by your side, hidden beneath this mask. He just couldn''t face you in this guise...

    He thought he''d never appear before you. He thought he''d silently watch you date and marry. He thought he''d be ready to let go. But Fionaˇ­ he''s just like you, the one thing he can''t let go of is you!

    Among these men, and behind this mask, you still saw him through the voice, the form, even the scent. You recognized him even before he recognized himself. That''s why he could summon the courage to unveil himself to you.

    He wished he could have come to you on a sunny day..."

    I knew everyone was expecting an outpouring of pain, with tears and reproach. I was probably predicting the scenarios people were thinking of. But weren''t they all just ideas? My mother once said that reality is often simpler than ideas because sometimes it just happens without any orchestration. My reality was simple, tooˇŞI had taken too long to understand it. But now, at an age my mother was when she spoke those words, I suddenly got it. I didn''t even need to think, it just felt right!

    The music still played gently, and the tempo gradually picked up. The second round of the dance had come to an end. Andermis and I exchanged five minutes of silence, just looking at each other, no words needed. The others around us had their own conversations, unaffected by our shared moment. The initial notes suddenly resurged, and I felt like the person at the end of a tunnel seeing a glimmer of light. A tango! I remembered the night before my wedding. I had thought it would be my last tango, but based on past experiences, I didn''t think so now.

    Slowly, despite the music having advanced, and everyone comfortably entwined in their couples, I didn''t force anything, regret or analyze, I simply took off the mask I was wearing on my face. I didn''t let him continue to hide behind those scars either. The masks fell to the floor with a sound as if love''s music was swallowing them whole.

    I was still waiting for something. My body remained fixed in place, and Andermis looked at me in bewildered incomprehension. The clock''s hands ticked away relentlessly, each movement emitting a crisp sound in the night. The drum''s beat fell, accompanied by the graceful melody of the violin, like a silk scarf caressing the body of a beautiful woman. I suddenly extended my hand in front of him, bending my knee slightly. The audience seemed affected by the scene, their feet hesitating in mid-air. The orchestra paused briefly to witness the unusual occurrence, but they resumed playing upon Madelynn''s request. Andermis couldn''t stop his astonishment at what was happening. But I didn''t care, because amidst all the grandeur here, the only thing I focused on was a single truth. I didn''t need to know what war had taken from him; I just needed to know that battered heart still beat fiercely for me. Life was inherently simple, but people had a way of complicating everything. I''d experienced it, and I knew it well. This time, that wouldn''t be allowed to continue.

    I looked at him, smiling with utter simplicity. People crowded to one side of the room, observing like an audience at a play. Up on the balcony, Madelynn leaned into Leo''s embrace, her smile radiant. I''d always believed he''d return to me, regardless of how much time had passed unwaveringly. Suddenly, I thought of Christophe. Poor boy, it seemed I''d have to shatter his heart all over again!

    My gaze remained fixed on him, brimming with emotions. I raised and lowered my hand in a seductive and deadly invitation. I batted my eyelashes. Gently, pure, and unhidden, I became entranced like a Russian girl with fingers twined in the strings of copper by the calm shores of Lake Baikal. Playfully, I purred:

    "Mr. Morten, would you care to tango with me?"

    The End.