Scribbles of truth

A keen aspect of having less almost always results to bitterness and disdain to the world; a world where materialistic belongings are what everyone aspires to aquire, nothing is far from the reach of money unless you do not have that treasure to start with.

This writer was never one for realisim, but life will always catch up on you, entraping you with its sharp glare, that you can do nothing but look yonder...towards the black abyss of reality.

Victor Hugo wrote - So long as there shall exist, by virtue of law and custom, decrees of damnation pronounced by society, artificially creating hells amid the civilization of the earth, and adding the element of human fate to divine destiny, so long as the three great problems of the century- the degradation of man through pauperism, the corruption of woman through hunger, the crippling of children through lack of light- are unsolved; so long as social asphyxia is possible in any part of the world;- in other words, and with a still wider significance, so long as ignorance and poverty exist on earth, books of the nature of les miserables cannot fail to be of use.

There could be no better words to describe fictious realisim - stories that tell of a world that could be in ours, characters in which are as real as a next door neigbor but with the makings of a convict one hears about in a news flash.

Poverity, brutaulity, war, death, greif, cruelty, are sadly what describes our world of the now, prayers are set on every pair of lips beckoning each god known to man to step forward and set an end to the turmoil we- as humans have unleashed upon ourselves, all for the usual nessisities, Power, wealth and greed.

After thoughts...

In a perfect world, life would be set in the clear, good and evil will show they're true colors, white for purity and black for venom.

But here, Ah…In the real world, there is too much of the grey spots that is in-between, mankind has become a rubber, once white but then when erasing the bad deeds becomes stained with the darkness he encounters.

The irony.

I am far to judge anyone, I am flawed in many ways, too many infact, selfish, cunning, and a spender much to my husband's displeasure. 

But what is it about us? That drives us to the worst , is it all really the workings of the devil? Are we really the angels we presume to be? Aren't we just the lesser demons of the earth?

My ramblings could go on till the morrow..

But it just shifts me, the shock you feel when you think someone is all good, a hero of light, the ultimate saint, when in need they turn into that clear color of in-between, that cloudy grey of impurity, and then you know, you realize…There is no such thing as a saint, let those stories be in they're leather bindings, in those glossy pages that are printed every day.

This. This is the real world,mate.

Demons prowl our corners, angels watch from above, and god sits upon his throne of light watching us eat at each other until he sets us for doomsday…

Indeed, we are doomed. 

Victor Hugo- A Preface

A famed writer once wrote this...

'So long as there shall exist, by virtue of law and custom, decrees of damnation pronounced by society, artificially creating hells amid the civilization of earth, and adding the element of human fate to divine destiny; so long as the three great problems of the century- the degradation of man through pauperism, the corruption of woman through hunger, the crippling of children through lack of light- are unsolved; so long as social asphyxia is possible in any part of the world;-in other words, and with a still wider significance, so long as ignorance and poverty exist on earth, books of the nature of Les Miserables cannot fail to be of use.'

Victor Hugo, although I haven't read his complete works, was always one of my idols, his dark themed stories captured me and sculpted my thinking into what it is now, VH was a visionary, much more than what I can write about here...he was a hero of the written word, he made each paragraph speak like a sword in a holy battle, the man had propose often lacked in modern literature, you could feel it in his books...the way he talked about the world made you feel that he believed, even in a skeptical way that the darkness we live in can become light once again.

He believed in humanity. 

I've watched more than my share of Les Miserables, and even though I had skimmed through the pages of the book as a young adult I couldn't go on with it, I found the book dark, and had too much realism for me -a fanciful girl of 14 to grasp- now as an adult I welcomed his mastermind, the aches of his characters, the beauty of his written words.

Such an epic.

Her. Over cake.

It was a week later of unanswered calls that she began to panic.

Was all this a joke?

Did he realize they're union would be a scandal and had decided to back off quietly?

But that wasn't fair!

She finally had some reigns back to her life, and him added to the picture seemed to make her being whole.

She slumped back into her bamboo chair and stared up at the sky once more, she had been sulking for days, nothing much to alter her being, her hands smelled of ink, her blouse blotched, her hair in airy disarray she had recently opted to prefer.

So this is life.

She would think sometimes.

"Easy come, easy go."She whispered to the morning lights, a bird seemed to echo her sentiment for it had landed for a moment on her balcony railing only to fly off once more.

She had been writing nothing for ages, her new book was nibbling its way to the finish line but there was much to do, he had plagued her mind so much, it seemed every character she would concive mimicked his coloring and actions, she was unfocused.

Unfocused spelled out failure, and she did not want her first attempt to fail so soon, it was like an abortion, living with the pain of pregnancy with the hope of a little one joining the clan soon only for it to be dissolved in a pouring of blood, skewering that dream alive.

She shouldn't think about it anymore, let the days come, she cradled her pen between her thumb and forefinger, and continued on her adventure in paperland, her coffee forgotten.

An hour later, her maid knocked on her door, she stifled her annoyance at the disturbance instead she called for her to come in.

On que, the woman walked in with a polite greeting handing her the the daily mail with a copy of today's paper.

She ignored the cluster of bills on her table, wondering how she would pay this months wages, it seemed she would have to call on her aunt again and have her lend her some money, the woman was a paragon of righteousness, things like "Lend me" did not go well with her, especially from an orphaned relative, she would frown at her and take out her check book always writing her a generous sum that would not only pay her bills but keep her in a comfortable lifestyle, her bank account was never empty because of the woman, she couldn't thank her enough.

She decided she would bake her a date cake and pop in on the dear woman, it would do well for her to move her legs and have a refreshing sit down with someone other than her fictional characters.

She found that baking was an easy relief for her stress, she baked horribly but it always tasted good, her frosting consisted of cream spread across the smooth texture and then sprinkled with a bit of Cocoa, her cousins had always exclaimed that it looked endearingly homemade…and she grasped at that piece of a compliment instead of doubting them and assessing that they were only saying that to make her feel better, but she was in no place for assessment she would grab at that branch of good fellowship and carry on.

They pity me, but who cares?

It was later that day when she had finally finished baking, looking like a cake herself with her cheeks dusty with flour and hair tied up in a crooked bun, she sailed out of the kitchen all smiles at her small accomplishment, telling her loyal maid to wrap it up for her after it had cooled, she quickly took a haste shower, combed her hair, applied no makeup, and wore a mid length dress of ice blue.

She glided to the kitchen, packed up her cake and went out to the garage to start her black mini cooper, her purse already flung under the side seat while the date cake was securely adjusted in the back.

She rang the engine and drove off.

She ignored the honks, and the rowdy teenagers with they're stereo's at full beat, her sights set on the tan painted mansion, with its brick covered columns, see through gates of iron blocked her from the green pastured passage way, she honked lightly for the doorman to click the gates open, she drove over the cement drive through, parking her car under an over grown tree at the edge of the space, she did not want to impose on the rest of her cousins parking space, humbled as she was, she couldn't risk having them get upset, they were her only leverage to society.

She ignored the rile in her belly as she approached the large wooden doors, recalling that the subject of her lodgings would have to come up, if anything her dear aunt was a traditional, she walked steadily by the book, and she; her niece was surprised she did not shun her first for her poor display in marriage affairs. Instead the woman held her close, backed her up completely.

"You smell like him."She had once told her while weeping into her shoulder, reminiscing about her dear father, she had cried buckets all over again that day, and her aunt joined her weeping, it wasn't right for an old woman to cry, the sight of her frail shoulders shaking made her realize all the wrong in the world, it was devastating. 

"Good afternoon Aunti!!" She said in a sing song voice coming to the parlor, her Aunt sitting cross legged looking like an elegant painting of the french art, her summer dress smart of a deep blue.

"Blue is the mood, my darling." She said, eying her ice blue dress in a approval.

"Yes, I so adore the color." She commented coming to sit by her aunt, the cake laid on the coffee table beyond, "I baked a cake for you." She said kissing the older woman's cheeks, "Oh…you witch!"Her aunt had joked, "Your going to make me into a big cow with all these sweets!"

She chuckled devilishly in reply, already ringing for the maid to bring a couple of plates, forks and a knife.

"Well…What's new with you?" Asked her aunt taking a sip of her tea, She shrugged telling of her impending writing projects, her hands still smelled of ink even though she had scrubbed them clean, she was stuck with it, just like she was stuck with her own creative insanity.

"What are you writing about?" Her aunt asked.

"About the war, my main character is girl who is faking being a foreign  soldier to gain safe passage out of her torn country."

"What a sad concept!" Her aunt said scandalized. 

"Too strong?"

"Why can't you write about the war without the women? Really. Everyone would think it would be your new fancy to join the military, it would just make the gossip come again."

"Oh, Auntii…I don't care what people think, I'm writing this for me, its a story, I do not come from a war torn country, well not recently! and I do not seek to be a soldier…I'm a writer, a visionary, last I checked they do not need those in the military." 

"Yes, but you can't say that pretty speech to everyone." 

"Tell you what…When I get it published, I'll post that very line at the very beginning…then nobody would dare gossip, at least not openly."

"Ohh…Hush! Writing is useless, all those writers you like are all dead, and all they're writings are a bore! They only wrote all that nonsense to analyze the world, but I'll tell you this darling, the world is simple, there is nothing but beauty, life and death, ugliness and horror, love and heartbreak, those are its elements…Its just the basic knowledge for any human, no smarty pants could contradict that!"

"Oh Auntii…I concur." She sighed.

The older woman sat back relishing her successful argument, her plate before her now, a slice of cake on it to go with her tea.

"Now baking is a lady's profession! This is delicious…"She said in praise about her cake.

She dodged the barb and simply answered, "I'm so happy you liked it."

"Now there is some gossip adrift…my silly neighbor, You wouldn't believe what she had made her son do."

She took a sip of her tea, her ears half listening, though she was always thankful for her aunt's entraining conversations.

"Can you believe, she had him court three girls simultaneously!! It has the whole neighborhood buzzing, how on earth are the father's alright with this is beyond me, I know all they're mothers, halfwits so intent on marrying off they're daughters they wouldn't care about the talk."

"How sad."She murmured.

"Exactly so, but he is very accomplished I hear…An architect, handsome, I think you and he went to the same school at one point actually, just came back from France after finishing a very important project there."

She was uninterested until her aunt finished the descriptions about the groom, her heart thumped into pieces in her chest, and her throat went dry, she couldn't form a sentience for long moments but then when she managed it, she asked for his name.

And when her Aunt uttered it, she slumped back against the cushions, her eyes glazed with emptiness.

"Goodness, Darling! What's the matter!!" Her aunt exclaimed watching her vast change in mood, taking her wrist in her own hand as if trying to measure her pulse.

"Oh Auntii…I think its time I tell you what really happened in France."She murmured, her shattered heart in her eyes.

And then she talked, unveiling every intimate detail, her gathering with him in Paris, they're private dinner, the way her husband had found out, the real reason for her divorce, and how he had visited her the other day to propose. 

"Oh god."Whispered her aunt.

"I think he was pulling a joke on me all along, I guess its his sort of revenge for all the things I've done to him in the past…I was fool enough to believe he really wanted me." She sobbed.

"Oh darling…"her aunt shook her head and continued rubbing her shoulder.

"I thought it would all end, the emptiness, you should have seen him, the way he asked me to marry him! It was an oscar winning act…I ate up all his words, and I stayed up night after night waiting for his mothers call…it never came."

"She'd never do that, She's a bigger stickler than I; avoids a scandal like the plague, She's very medieval I confess, divorce to her is the end of the world to a woman."

"I did not know."

"Well, needless to say, that boy is long gone, I do hope you come live with me from now on, your so pretty, such easy prey for any of those ruffians out there…I'll arrange a suit for you, keep your house until another worthy fellow comes and you can use it as a family home, your father would have loved that."

"Oh Auntii…I don't think I will ever get married again."

"Hush darling, Your grandmother married three times, children from each of those men and she did not care to start a new romance every time! Your young with no baggage, beautiful and intelligent, you are the package, my dear. Any man would be crazy not to want you."

She just looked at her, hatred and jealousy eating at her heart, she was broken, his boyish smiles still lingered in her head, the way he had said her name, the way he had touched her, his voice and those endearing words he spoke.

Liar.

She shivered then, and her aunt drew her against her with a hug.

She did not go home that day.

************

I do hope you have enjoyed my silly post...

There's more, so stay tuned!! :D

Comments please, I would love to read your thoughts. 

The love doctor

Often time's when I go out with a friend, or have a good night gathering of my acquaintances, I'm always approached for advice.

What's funny is its all about men and love.

I never claimed to be an expert, but the women who have approached me were idealistic- a trait I long ago discarded- imaginative romantics, that expect they're love interest to remember what sort of flower they liked, how they had envisioned they're men to tell them how they're eyes reminded them of melted chocolate.

I suppressed my giggles of course.

Now, don't take this the wrong way, my contact with men are limited, I was never a fan of they're long strides in, of the guerilla like stances when they spotted a woman they took interest upon, nor did I like they're voices, harsh, loud and just plain disruptive.

Yet, I observed.

Its funny really, often times I found myself suppressing laughter at a failed attempt of flirting, the classic lean in, the way they crossed and uncrossed they're arms, begging to be looked at.

It was like going to a circus, watching on in disinterest as each performance boarded on the common usual.

Well, now my friends did not see men as I saw them, they envisioned they're love's to be the one, the true, the hero.

and then when that did not happen, they fell, crumbling into confusion.

That's the thing about women, we are so dumbfounded by men, they make you think they can carry boulders when really...they just want an easier way around it.

Women, are the hero's of this age, I am sorry to say this, but my opinion of men has dimmed over the years, call me a cynic, but the odds in finding that one true hero has become a rarity, that is why women tend to be jealous over a satisfied friend with her mate.

It just does not happen that often.

Anyhow, back to my point, My friends come up to me and ask me for guidance more times than I could count, they're high chins and laughing eyes change into the negative, they are not them anymore, they worry too much.

Why?

Because they are consumed with the classic tale and wonderment of: What a man wants!

The key here, and I implement this in my own life, the simple solution of it all.

Don't, stop!

Just don't go there, don't wonder, don't change yourself to please. Be yourself.
To most men I think that is the biggest turn on, to walk on nonchalant of him and any of his antics, to act as if his show was expected and believe that you deserve more than this.

Believe that you are the jewel that many miners would fight for, don't ever doubt it.

I'm not here to relish in my wisdom, simply telling you of the one thing that has worked in my life, when I was shy and expecting I was bombarded with disappointments, but when I matured and realized that I was more than any man could ask for or could have- I don't want to come across as arrogant, but I do really believe that of me and of most  women- I was surprised with the results.

Believe you are desirable and you shall be.

That is my only advice, the only lesson I have merited in matters of the heart, for it is really a game.


Sometimes my advice would not be incorporated with my friends, they do not take it seriously and would turn away to the bosoms of they're mothers where they are counter told to be what her man wants her to be.

And then it starts, the loop of female weakness, where women tell they're daughters to be what they're husbands want them to be, of friends encouraging they're own 'besties' to get skinnier in order to get her man, of misery and companionship, of tears amid masses.

Ohh the drama!

I choose not to envision anymore.

I hope this post would be a reason to ponder for my female readers, of womanhood and what it truly embodies, to look at it as a whole and not of how others paint it to be, seek within yourselves and find what your truly made of.

His Home 2

He was on air.

 His head was empty, his face set in a wide grin as he passed the empty side walk of the quiet neighborhood, all that was left of him was the memory of her and his hasty proposal.

 It was the best thing he had ever done.And it seemed so right to have it said where it all began.

 He drove off making his way back home, intending to break the news to his mother as soon as possible.  He turned alleys, swished past elegant drivers, he looked every bit the menace he was once reported to be, the wolfish laugh that echoed from inside his vehicle seemed to only confirm it.He blasted his stereo speakers, a song he did not know sounded and he hummed to it anyhow.

 Finally!! 

Was the word that went on and on in his head, it was the only word he could think of that described his situation completely.

 He parked his car in its designated space, strolled out into the courtyard of his family home and inside to where his mother preferred to be seated, he saw her soon enough, her spectacles a bit crooked, a cup of red tea in her hand, her eyes glanced from him then back to the tv set, possibly still miffed at him for ignoring her plea's about his smoking state.


 "'Evening."He greeted, the grin still on his face as he closeted the gap, kissing both her cheeks fondly.

 "To you to."She replied in a bored tone.

 "Where is everyone?"He asked looking about the small yet fashionable sitting room.

 "Your sister is studying for an exam, the twins are asleep." She replied, it was never an easy time for his mother, especially after his father passed as a child, most of all it was this time of the evening she was most melancholy, her world was silenced and her children were taken upon they're own lifes and interests to share the night time with her.

 She always sat up late watching old movies, sometimes he wondered if she had watched them with his father too.

 "Mom."He started to say, sitting down on his knee's by the recliner, "I have news to tell…Oh! How you will like what I'm up to."

 She removed her spectacles and looked at him fully, her interest very much perked at his starter announcement. "What is going on?"

 "I decided I'm getting married!" He said a masculine chuckle followed his words, it was so joyful to have his thoughts mouthed.

 His mother's eyes glazed, her hands clasped on her lap, her tea rested on the side table forgotten, and then she touched his cheek, as if to make sure he was there saying the holy words every mother dreamed to hear from her son.

 "You really mean that?" She whispered enchanted.

 "Mhmm." 

"You devil! Who is she?" She asked in an instant coming back to her usual chirpy self."You already know her."Came his reply, his eyes guarded now when he spoke her name.

 His mother sucked in a breath, looked away then turned back to him once more."I can't believe this!"
 
"Why?" His voice was patient but his mood was turning sour fast, he did not want to hear any objections anymore. He was so damned sick of it.

 "She's divorced, a widow! I don't know what she is exactly, but she is not the kind of women society pictures you to choose!"

 "Damn society, Mother. Do you want me to be happy or not?"

 "Of course, I do!" She replied aghast.

 "I already asked the lady, I'm a grown man, I can choose who I want to be with, I don't need you going off choosing for me."

 Her lips thined, and then she glanced away in silence, he swore he saw her eyes go wet, but his masculine mind did not choose to go down that path to ponder, he could not weaken now.

 She seemed to find her voice once again after a moment.

 "So this is it, then."

 "Yes."


 "She'll take you even with out my consent?"

 "I hope so."

 "So you choose her over me?"

 It was those words, damn those words.

 It was the words that no mother should say to her son, it made him soften on his resolve, his eyes saw only her pain, and he realized for the first time how much hurt he would inflict to get what he wanted.

 He felt low, selfish.

 "Its not like that." he argued, though he heard his voice crumble now.

 "I can find you a better bride, I know I can, there are so many beautiful girls out there, love. Untried, with no excess baggage and no expectations."

 "I love her." he said, his shoulders straightening, like a soldier about to go into a sure battle.

 "I know you did at one point, she broke your heart once, don't handed it over so easily again."

 "Its too late."

 "Darling…the woman is at her wits end, a certified divorcee and a widow at that would jump at the chance of marrying you…any girl would."

 "Its not like that with us."

 "Us? You spoke to her before now?"

 "We met in Paris, she was still married, we renewed our acquaintance and she realized early on that she was going to ask for a divorce and come back home."

 He hated how he summed up those memories of her, how her eyes had glowed when she looked up at him, that little detail she did when she scratched her thumb into her palm, how she had looked that night under the stars, it seemed pitiful of him to tell his mother in such a way, but he wasn't going to share those intimate details about her with anyone.

 "How could you?! Have a deliance with a married woman! That poor man! I can't blame him for throwing her out! What a nightmare…Oh god. I need my tea."

 It seemed comical to him now, his mothers reaction, it was exactly the embodiment of all the gossip that would soon come out of them, he did not care a fig what people thought about him, he never had the best reputation when it came to women, but he worried about her, all alone now, she would be easy prey to the wolfs.

 "I'm sorry, mother.  I didn't do anything wrong, I did not touch the lady, we merely met, she was uncomfortable in her marriage. Nothing more, quit with the allegations."

 "Fine, I'll forget I heard anything, but I propose a compromise."

 He listened, did not show any emotions of interest because if he did his mother would swoop in and make him take what she offered by default.

 "If I have any place in your heart, as your mother I beseech you, there are three young ladies that I had always envisioned you with, -perfect backgrounds, beautiful, and conservative- Take this last wish, meet them and decide for yourself if you truly found the woman for you, see what the world has to offer, if you come out sure that you still want the lady then I will give you my full approval and welcome her with open arms."

 His eyes flashed in anger, but he repressed the fumes for now, he had known enough women to know which one mattered, his mother did not know how far he had gone in numbers of women, she did not want him to regret his choice, but what was there to regret?

 A beautiful young woman, who knew him well enough, who he had known well enough, who mystified him with her voice and grace, he was like a deer in her headlights unable to look away, but when he spoke again he did not say those thoughts, he voiced something else entirely.

 "I'll give you one week, starting tomorrow. I'll meet them."

 His mother broke into a grin, then clasped her hands together charmed by his agreement to her plan, and she told him in a sing song voice, that he would not regret it.

 all signs of tears in her eyes dried in an instant.

 *********************

 Sorry for the long wait, but here it is, I apologize if it's shorter than usual, promise the next part would be longer. 


 Thanks for reading again. :) 


 Comments and critique greatly appreciated.

His/Her-Balcony Scene.

It was already dusk, she watched on the sky turn its familiar shade of red and pink, a flock of birds tweeted its retreat to they're hidden nests, the sound echoed through her balcony, her hand painted with all kinds of ink, she had stayed up all night writing again, and had yet to sleep for the day, she yawned, it was too quiet in her olden house, except for her maid, her only confidant now.

As the cheerful older lady brought the antique silver tray in, a lone cup and kettle of fresh hot tea, its aroma filled her senses, it was her only luxury now.
And it brought her so much peace.

She had managed to auction off most of her lavish gowns, which had brought her enough profit to live by for a while.

With a gentle smile, she helped her maid lay the tray upon the small gilded table, she cheerfully lounged onto the bamboo chair, one of her father's most favored piece of furniture that she now cherished.

She had decorated the balcony with paper butterflies on strings, chinese lanterns began to shimmer above her with the coming of night, and she relished this little piece of magic she owned.


It was quiet a challenge running the hefty mansion, but she had strived to keep up its keep with setting schedules and the occasional help she got from her fathers side of the family, long lost cousins and aunts occasionally popped in for a chat, and urged her to reconsider leaving with them, it wasn't healthy for a young woman to live alone after all.


She gave a long breath, sipping her tea, deciding it was no time to dwell on the present, rather than enjoy her moment of now, distant lights flickered open around her on the main street, the familiar wiff of jasmine gifted by the cool breeze was always her undoing.

Bittersweet, painfully so.

And then there was the usual ruckas, Rajo had probably come to clear out the mess in the garden, poor soul, always helping even though she paid him very little.

His footsteps lingered underneath her, and she called to him laughingly to get back to work and not play the poet to her poor harassed maid.

It wasn't until she looked down that she realized who she was truly addressing.

It took her a moment to realize who it was, but the unmistakable built and those eyes, dark and unblinking looking upwards at her, she half expected him to be an apparition or a dream of a long torn memory, a piece kept away from the puzzle of her mind.

She watched as he stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked up at her, silently, perhaps even memorizing her, she suspected.

Her throat constricted in that awful way it did when she saw him, she turned away from the mesmerizing apparition below and tried to find composure; but when she looked back, he was gone.

So it was my imagination after all.

She sighed in disappointment, although her active mind promised that it was best that it was.

She sat back on her straw chair, staring up at the stars coming to glitter above, one by one they appeared.

And then she heard something else.

A scruff of shoes against metal, when she glanced to her left, she saw hands on the concrete railing, then a face;and then he came afoot, standing all male; feet's away from her.

"You could've rang the door bell." She said to his familiar face, her voice came out soft and not with the sarcastic undertones she had intended to say.

"I like it the old way." He said glancing back at the neglected ladder by the railing, when he looked back towards her, his eyes were grave, the clamp of his jaw was evident as he surveyed the grounds around her.

She saw that it did not escape him, the state of her finance's, and she sat silently, straight-backed, chin high and defiant at whatever let down he was going to say to her.

"You did not write."He said finally, "I tried contacting you at that address you gave me, you never answered." His words were accusing yet his tone was gentle, questioning.

"I couldn't then; the situation was too bleak, He was dying and slipping away fast, what little time I had to myself I was faced with paperwork, besides phonelines were tapped. When the news came out of my estranged divorce, I assumed you heard about it and decided you changed your mind."

He just looked at her, mouth agape.

She shrugged.

"I waited for you. I'm still waiting." He said, his voice full of anguish.

"I can never understand you." She said rising, her hair braided to the side, she was dressed simply in an oversized white shirt and dark leggings, the sight of her would probably send most of her fashion crazed friends to a swoon, but she lingered with him.

"You can have anyone, anyone!"She repeated, "Do you realize the effect you'd have on society, an accomplished bachelor falling for a divorced widow?! They'd call you insane, or worse call me a witch!"

He did not rise to her goading, that confident aura he had, always laid siege on her heart, his hand outstretched to pluck a flower from its stems, the blooms snaked about her balcony in abandon, he circled the small flower between his fingers, then glanced at her.

"You really are a witch." He said as an after thought, smiling her way, his eyes breaking into that familiar warmth, "You gave me no choice when I was fifteen but to look at you, by seventeen I was already at the palm of your hand, but it was when I turned twenty you made sure that I was never to forget you when you left me." His voice turned choked now.

"By twenty two all I could think of was my studies, the friends I had, and my family, yes, there were other girls, there always were, but they were never you. when I saw you in Paris you were a memory, but then you were there…reminding me once more of what I never had, and I wanted you back all over again."

He seemed to gulp away his emotion, then continued in a more leveled voice,"Having you, those stolen moments in Paris validated what I had known, that you still felt for me, you remembered me, and what we had. Even if it was childish.
It was never that to me. As cliche as this might sound, You. You were always the one."

She did not realize until her eyes blurred and she no longer saw him, tears streamed down her face unheeded, then he stepped closer taking her hands in his own, his warm hands calming her own clammy ones.
"Before I heard the news of your return, i was defeated, but when i knew…god. When I heard it, I had to see you, Society be damned."

Her heart burst with a million emotions, her mind churned, memorizing every word and tone, locking it all in the folds of her memory.

"I don't deserve this." She whispered, for she did not dare speak lest she fell into sobs.

" Of course you don't. But you'll have the rest of your life to make it up for me." He said, that devilish grin on his lips once more, and she gave a hesitant smile behind the viel of tears, he check her chin up and goaded a grin out of her.

"I'll let the women call you tomorrow, we'll set the preparations, I hate these customs but we'd best stick to the rules this time,agreed?" He said, and she gave him a nod, telling him with her mystified eyes that she was indeed his for the taking.

With that, he kissed the back of her hand and slipped into the night.

She stood there mystified under the moonlight, a dreamy haze coming to sit upon her heart, she was on air, all smiles and hums till bedtime.



***************************************************************************

Finally its here.

I apologize for the long wait for this post, I hope you enjoyed it.
There are a couple more posts I think for the completion we'll see, looks like all's well with our characters, and we'll soon leave them in a good place.

Thank you all for reading.

Comments are always anticipated!!
XOXO

Currently reading-My Ruthless Prince

Currently Reading-My Ruthless Prince


Its been ages since I read something romantic but I'm currently reading a new book by the infamous Gaelen Foley -Love her.-

The woman brings to life what women want in a man, and then just throws him into the arms of another woman! -SOB-

Hahahahaha, I'm Just kidding....Sortaa. >:^

Anyway here's a looksee of my favorite lines so far.


He reached for the door handle.

"Um, Drake?"

He paused, glancing back in question.

Emily folded her arms across her chest with an irresistible, teasing smile. "I heard them force you into admitting you love me."

"Hmm," he said, rather on guard. "You heard that?"

She nodded, regarding him in amusement.

He looked at her for a long moment. "What makes you think they forced me?"

The joy that broke across her face was like the sun bursting out from behind the cold, formidable mountains.

Her smile beamed: He sent her a wink from the doorway, then he went out and closed the door behind him.



And this part..



"Emily?" he called after her in a low tone.

She stopped and glanced back.

He stared at her. "You've always had my heart."

Her violet eyes lit up. She ran back to kiss him one more time, throwing her arms around him.

"Go to bed," he scolded in a warm whisper after a moment, smiling. She gave him a final, stubborn kiss on the cheek as he playfully pried her away from him.

"I wish you were coming with me."

"So do I. Someday," he said.


The woman makes me gush, and giggle like a teenager while reading her books. (even though I usually appear composed, bored and adult like)

The book is her latest edition in her Inferno Series, which I'm not totally keen on but this book is the best of the lot in my opinion.

<3

His Home

The trip back home was a quiet one, no tumbles in the air, the business class part where he stayed did not have any squealing babies, in fact it was not occupied by anyone except for him, and a few of his own teams countrymen.

He listened as they conversed of what they're going to tell they're firms, what they would keep on the report and what would be kept in memory.

He smiled inwardly as he overheard one of them tell the other that he would taunt his envious co workers with this new found accomplishment, another telling the rest that they would keep they're parisian adventure high on they're resumes.

He on the other hand was not excited on the familiar faces he would see, his broad frame filled the spacious seating, the effect of his bored stare out the window set most of the females on board gushing at the beauteous male specimen on board.

He wasn't oblivious to his looks, but he wasn't one to dwell on it much, looks change and he was never vain, though secretly he had relished the way she had eyed him, from under her lashes, the coy way she would search him from his neckline down to the length of his chest, she wasn't like most of those blushing maidens his mother threw his way, she looked at him in a knowing way, as if she could tell the effect she had on him.

She was practiced now, long gone was the secluded girl he knew, now she was a full fledged lady true. She could bring any man to his knees if she tried.

He tossed his silly imaginings away, clamping his jaw tight.

It didn't matter anymore.He slid back into his seat, Soon he will be home.

*********************************************

He woke up once more with a start, a friendly stewardess had patted his arm to rise him for lunch, he rubbed his eyes open and took the humble meal offered.

"Would you care for anything to read, Monsieur?" Asked the attendant, he merely nodded in answer.

She brought it a couple of business magazines and a newspaper, he picked up the later, intending to go through the new happenings of his local territory.

The front pages read of political outrages, civil wars, massacres and the usual going on of the very disturbed region, but to most this was unaffected news, he ran through it all with boredom registering that naught has been done about the many pressing situations, he surprised a yawn struggling to bring all the pages together so he could go on ahead with his meal.

And all of a sudden he saw it.

In memory of Sheik X….

He double checked the name again and again just to make sure he had not mistaken it, it read after that of his sons and where the funeral reception would take place, there was a small column of the passing mans many tributes to society, but other than that he did not care to read on.

His dark eyes shifted to look outside his window in bafflement, questions running through his head, his awestruck gaze taken in the familiar piece of landing below.

Are you back?

***************************************************

It took him a while to find out all the details after that, and they weren't happy ones.

From what he could snatch up from his mothers gossip, it seemed that she had come back, a fallen woman of divorce.

"Poor thing he did not leave her a thing. What a cruel cruel man!" Said his mother, putting down her tea cup, "Such a lovely girl, so young." she said tutting.

"So she came back? She's all alone in that house?" He heard his sister ask, her face sallow.

"I hear some of her relatives asked her to move in with them, but she refused, Though I do not think she will stay there for long, people are talking, and it won't do for a woman to live alone, divorced or not."

"Poor girl." Murmured his sister, younger and way behind in experience to understand the full meaning of their mothers lectures.

He decided to rise, taking up the most natural excuse that he had to leave for a smoke.

"You better stop with that. "Said his mother sternly, "Did you read those journals I left you about the dangers of smoking…Oh you never listen to me! Just go, go!" said his mother at his unflinching back,as usual ignoring her advisory barbs.

Truth be told he was not leaving to smoke, he had crossed the hallways of the newly decorated house, down the gardens to the garage.

He retrieved his SUV and drove off, to an olden place.

The streets here smelled of Jasmines, her old house; a white Andalusian inspired mansion, with peeling walls, he parked his car far from the house, deciding to take a look around with out the added attention of a motor.

His hand touched the gilded fence, Its been years since he had come here last, he had refused to come back.

They're naughty escapades as children always started off here, with her house as they're starting point, as young adults she had looked down on him from her mothers balcony, too pretty for words, seeming to him like a forbidden princess he would have to wait to touch.

But then it had all happened too quickly, he had applied for college knowing full well who his bride would be when he would come out triumphant but he had lost her, In an instant.

And now, it seemed that he might gain her back in that same amount of time.

God, You never quit! You pin for her even though she treated you like a dog!

His mind seemed to say, but he ignored it, always the rebel, his eyes watchful behind the aviator sunglasses, it was already dusk but he hadn't bothered taking them off just yet.

Do I dare?

He asked himself, a devilish smile already on his lips as he held on the railing, stepped up the fence, and hung on to ledge, tossing himself on to the other side, down to the familiar berry bushes.

Now, where are you?
*******************************************
Okay loves, I almost did not post this today, but I went to bed with a churning mind, had to get up and finish  to post.

Damn, isn't the He delish? A friend of mine read the posts and was like "OMG, You created the perfect clinging man!" LOL, do you think the male character of this is clingy?

I personally think he's a helpless romantic with a dark side to him, but here's to you…love to know what you think. :)

The dream (His/Her)

It was almost noon, his final meeting was adjourned, and he was set to review his work while he was in they're midsts, the effect of they're gazes, some was judgmental others simply contemplative of his work.

He was not a pro, well not in the eyes of these artistic architects of the real world, he was a man with a vision, yes. But his vision was somewhat limited.

He had learned a lot within these few months, it layered him in every aspect of his being, the way he looked at the possibilities was more optimistic now, he smiled more, and found that life was not such a bad place to be.

His eyes roamed over his colleagues, his supervisors, and otherworldly geniuses among his team of revolutionary minds.

He enjoyed every moment, every sweat it had taken for him to produce, the effect of piles of work done, the sense of pride he had with every pat on the back, every congratulating smile.

He had made it here somehow.

And that was something.

She didn't come in his thoughts then, did not intoxicate him with her eyes, and voice.

No, he was still and focused at the task at hand, the world looking only to him, reporters filming in the background as he finally went on to his unveiling.

As he pronounced his accomplishments, the world around him beamed, and glittered, the masses at his feet began to clap, and at the end cheers of hail come to voice at the foreign man before them.

"Bravo, Bravo!" said one, another clapped him on the back and an older french woman tried agilely to kiss him flat.

He was brought up laughing and the camera's told of how he looked, the way he beamed at the international array of faces, forgotten a dream in his head.

Yes, how long has he come to forget.

And here, it had happened.

Her face became lost in the masses that surrounded him, and he finally forgot.

At least for that moment.


*************************************************

She finally entered her old chambers, the white of her walls turned yellow, her bed spread smelled of dust, her father's old room she did not dare enter, she had designed it in her head that it would stay just the way he had left it, an old portrait of her mother by the lampshade, his own picture from his army days tucked into the wood framed mirror of his dresser, the scent of his old spicy cologne still clinging on his grey sheets.

How she missed him.

His smile, the fabled pat on her shoulder when her head was looking downwards, tears lurking in her eyes, he was always optimistic about the world, like it would one day rain flowers.

She did not know how he could do it, he had lost so much before her eyes, everything around them seemed to shrink and disappear, his own career, his early retirement, his business falling into crumbs and all he was left with was debts, and more debts at her lavish education.

Her mother gave up her luxurious life style, of shopping and relying on the help, instead they had let go most of they're servants, they're expensive european cars to used asian ones, she was riding a benz to school when so abruptly she had switched to riding the bus instead.

Her mother gripped at the changed life poverty had introduced, but she wasn't one accustomed to strain.

She had left them when she was thirteen.

Of course being her father's daughter she never once looked back on her, her mother was half french and had taken flight to her family in Nice, she had tried to contact her several times but to no avail. -That was how she had come to speak french like a native, though very few people knew of how she had obtained it.-

She was not one to be discarded then picked up again, she would never take such a person back.

She had decided to keep true to her father's memory, and leave things exactly the way he had left them.

Well, atleast what she could keep the same.

Her marriage was over, and so was her deliance in paris.

The thoughts she had built on they're meetings, what a fool she was.

To think that she could take back the things she had left and just simply start over.

The world was not a white page, and she certainly did not have the means to change it.

Memories, words, and actions took to come where she was now, she had dug herself an exit and she was yet to go through it.

Where would she go from here?

So there she sat on her old bed, a lone lamp open in the darkened house, the walls seemed to hum at her presence, and she tried to ignore the normal fear of anyone who was alone in an old house.

She picked up a pen, an old note book, and began to scribble.

"The world around me has changed, I no longer see the ghosts I fear, the words in my head encourage me to step forward, and the corridors of life seems to light at my every step.

My world has changed, papa.


I am no longer a little girl in need of your embrace, I've grown, I miss you terribly, yes. But I know that our times will all come to an end someday, now, for no reason at all, I live on. I regret not having you feel pride for me, the way you'd look at my failures sympathetically and continue to cheer me on, I never looked upon you that way when you most needed it, papa. I only wished for the things I could not have. I complained about wanting my own car, when yours barely got you to work, I imagined journeys to foreign worlds, when you barely could pay my school bills, I never cared one whit about your composure, the way you looked on to me and smiled, shaking your head at the ideals of a dreamer although promising you'd get me all that I wanted and more. Papa, why do I ache? Why do I fall every time I look up? Why am I lost now? How did you peruse through those dark moments when no one was there?

I have so many questions, yet. The answers I seek are buried with you. I cannot face the world yet, Papa. I will stay here, in the place where you breathed your last breath.

I love you,
Your daughter~


She looked upon the sheet of paper, her eyes blurry, and she blinked the blur away, only to find that her words became wet, and her breath was stolen in a moan.

She brought her knees together and wept, she let her pain seep through her tears, in the private place that was completely hers, she cried.

For her past, the chance at a dream, and her loneliness.

**********************************************************

I Just wanted to comment that this post really made me tear while writing it, I hope my thoughts in words actually succeeded in showing those characters true emotions, please keep in mind that I do not edit. This is a very raw draft, I hope you enjoy reading the His/Her posts as much as I enjoy writing them.

Those characters unnamed as they are seem to really grow on me, and some of you might wonder why I choose to leave them unnamed, well; I don't know. I like the concept of keeping that way though. :P

Oh! Commet please. :)

Until next time,
Adieu . :**

The singalong song

So the other day I was jamming with my baby sister to this really old song...



To my english speaking friends I'll write you the translation, Don't want to leave my lovelies out of this. <3



If you ask the ground about the taste of rain, it will swear it did not quench its thurst.
If you ask the wind, about the road to travel, it will reply He went on to travel.

Repeat x3



If you ask the night about the moonlight، with the ages it has lost its glow.
My love I cannot look, for in your eyes I see our beginnings drowning.

Repeat x2

Chorus:
If you ask the ground about the taste of rain, it will swear it did not quench its thurst.
If you ask the wind, about the road to travel, it will reply He went on to travel.


Orchestra...

The voice of fate made us retreat on our love, every easiness is swamped with perils.
if we drink patience, we reach disappointment, and if we seek glory we are brought down to defeat with the truth.

Repeat All.


If we forget time, wakefulness will remind us, and if we wish for pride, minutes will disappoint.
My luck is fallen, and your luck has followed the same fate, and now a lover mourns his love.






I just love this song, its so beautifully worded though it might sound a bit corny translated...I just wanted to share. :)

Italy-Paris/ The turning point

His mind had been racing, the effects of her note had driven him for long nights of wakefulness and a somber mood, his coworkers had commented that he was not himself ever since he had set foot in the city of lights; but they did not know his true reason.

This trip had brought out the child, boy and man in him, it had been fun working on such an exclusive project but his worries had turned from professional to extreme personal, it all happened when he saw her…

Of all the people he had to run into it…it was her.
He was always told that god worked in mysterious ways but this was a cruel joke.

His first love thrown into the streets of paris just in time for his arrival,

Ever since then, his dreams would be about her, the mysterious softness of her, eluding him like always even in his own slumber…

Not this time. His mind reasoned, this time she'd come back to him, riches or not, she would be truly his.

The inside pocket of his suit carried a small black box, in the crimson interior of it, laid a rock that might seal his future forever.

If only she'd come back sooner though, it was almost a week since her departure, and he had this itch in his spine something was not right..

****************************************

"So you dare come here?!" Spoke the graceful woman rising in a growing tantrum of her daring to interfere with they're family matter, sons and daughters stood around her like a military force ready to attack with just a word from they're hysterical mother, blocking away the white bed behind them from view.

"It could not be helped, he is my husband too." Replied the younger lady, words of ice against her oppositions screams of fire.

"Not for long, you idiot!" Said the first wife, "You were hoping for the inheritance yes? You little slut, my husband had supplied investigators after you…it seems you were canoodling with that man, I even received pictures of your affair, It only became more apparent when my love came to tell me of your request for a divorce…you want to go back and join with that man is that it?"

"I was raised to be a lady ma'am, and I ask you not to use such language when addressing me, and I care not for an inheritance, you said yourself I had asked for a divorce, but I do not think my marriage with the Sheik is that to be forgotten, I've never wished him anything but happiness and health, will you please move aside and let me see him."

"Mother these kind of discussions cannot be good for father, Let her see him for a moment and be gone." Said the elder son, a man in his thirties about ten years her senior, she gave him a polite nod of recognition, his mother stepped aside at the sense he voiced.

Beyond them, sat her recovering spouse, covered in white sheets, his eyes open looking upwards, "I apologize for not coming sooner, I was only told about your situation an hour ago…how are you feeling?" She said softly taking his hand between her own.

"I'm dying." He said in a croak, his hand cold in her own warmer ones, "I should have known…"he murmured, barely audible, "You never were content."

She almost sobbed into the sheets, her guilt escalating with the effect of his words carried in the weakest of whispers, "I don't want to see you."

"I know, but I couldn't not come."She whispered kissing his palm, "You were my savior in my time of need, I shall never forget that."

"I have spoken to my pilot to take you back home, Your belongings will reach you there."

"As you wish." She said, her voice meek infront of his hardness, she couldn't argue now, not anymore, she was a used and tossed woman.

Good for you.

Her mind jeered, if she had kept shut about her deliance in Paris and regarded it as one all this would never have happened, such dishonor has fallen over her, she couldn't lift her head anymore now.

Forgive me, father.

She then excused herself, a few cruel chuckles of her step daughters echoed behind her, whispers containing the world Slut wafted to her ears, but she ignored it.

But it was then she realized how far down she had went; it seemed to her that it was that moment of confrontation that had made her use that trait she had never used before.

Guts.

;Guts to speak out against a room full of enemies and come out, alive yet frail and defeated, she deserved it though, she knew.

Later that day she boarded the private Jet she had been so accustomed to using, the lush seats, the delicious array of trays she had always preferred, but this time it was served with catlike glances at her from the crew, they're taunting quips of "Until next time." and "See you again, Ma'am." It made her turn her iciest, sitting straight and bold through out the six hour flight home.


That was the end of her marriage.

*****************************************************************

It had been almost two months of no answered calls, or messages, he was still in Paris swamped with work, his superiors rushing him with projects and drawings, blueprints that needed his approval, his assistants working day and night to finally get it done.

He had felt selfish at the time for discarding such a turning point of his career for a chance with a dream.

His one true dream girl had eluded him once again, she had tricked him into waiting for her while she went cruising to Italy to her beloved husband, He concluded that he must have been nice company for a bored rich man's wife.

He imagined asking her,

Would anyone have sufficed for you?



His mind warred with his heart to give up the erotic thoughts of having her beside him, perhaps even more than a lover, he had wanted to take her back home as his, and proclaim it to his family.

But Alas that was never to be.


His phone rang then, "Monsieur Architect." His superior's voice joked, "Zer is one last project you must finish to return home, I already sent zee documents to your assistant, will expect your reply at the end of zis week." Said the snob frenchman.

"Oui, Monsieur Jaques, Just leave it to me." He replied in a humble tone, never one to cross down a job.

I just want to go home.

it was a silent wish, one he did not reveal to anyone but himself.

**********************************************

To be continued….

Thank you all for reading this, please leave your comments and thoughts, would love to know what you think.

I know its a bit slower than my last posts, but this is such a turning point for our characters…

Fingers crossed!! <3

Italy- Confessions

Hey everyone,

Here's continuing my Paris story...I thought I'd post this before running to the gym,thought it would be good as an afternoon read.

Enjoy!

*******************************************************************************

She had to force herself to rise the next morning.

She spent the last two days, reliving the past night in her head, but today she had to make her move; she had to decide.

His words rang an alarm in her head; she did indeed feel for him.

Very much so.

His voice in her ear as he told her she was his.

It had made her shiver with excitement and fear all at once; she had never felt this much -anything in a long time.

He had beckoned her corpse from its tomb of nothingness and took her to the world of contrasting past and the unexpected, he was her past and everything she did not expect him to be.

Her eyes found the number of the concierge, and instructed them in a husky voice of recent awareness that she needed someone to pick her bags up, later she sat down to write a telegram in it she wrote the following:

"I do not know what to do or think, but I will be back."
she hesitated in writing her address in Milan for fear that he might take it upon himself to follow her there, but she threw out that possibility.

He had too much pride for that.

Soon she made her way into the shinny black Benz parked infront of the hotel entry, her Louis Vuitton classic trunks rolled behind her.

As the car rolled through the stylish bends, her gaze slipping outside looking out the familiar lanes, knowing the streets by heart, having familiarized herself with most of them some years back.
Looking upon gaping tourists, to stylish Parisian women in fur coats, and finally to well dressed gentlemen lounging in open coffee shops, she distinctly found herself smiling at a memory.

A movie she recalled, in it there was a line said by one of the actors;
"We will always have Paris."

Indeed we will, she thought agreeing to it in an instant.


She had finally made to her destination abroad the private jet, though it was hours later she clearly realized the task at hand.

Divorce him, I'll take you back in a minute.

She closed her eyes once more to recall his exact wording of the phrase, her heart had thumped like a lovelorn teenager then.

Can it really be that easy?

When her eyes opened again, she was thrown into a wondrous surrounding that was Milan, the animated streets were ones she had only read in books and saw in movies, her lips lifted in a still smile, strangely though she had found no pleasure watching such splendor, her heart did not beat the same way it did when the images of him had flashed through her mind, the way she imagined him next to her, wrapping his fingers through her dark hair as he looked out at the buildings and streets that had inspired her all this time.

The Images in her mind looked so vivid that inclined herself to turn to her left, , her white Hermes laid discarded but there was nothing more.

She swallowed the bile coming back through her throat, and blinked her agony away, what torture was this?

Belonging to a man through a contract, and another through the writings of her heart.

The world was said to be cruel but she had never imagined it to be a cruelty such as this, she clenched the air on her palm, manicured nails digging into flesh, she was at a crossroads now.

And she had to make a decision soon, for at the entrance of the stylish villa, stood a man in his late fifties, tall and distinguished, he looked upon the approaching vehicle with hawk like eyes, though not unkind.

When she had emerged with the usual dash of saucy female her voice ringing all flirty approach, "Darling!" she called.

She found herself in his arms and gave him a kiss on the cheek, then with a tut tut of soiling him with her lipstick, she quickly wiped the red stains off his face and gave him a lingering smile.

I have to play this right.

*****************************************************

It was two days later of lounging in the luxurious villa, her gaze fixated upon the Turquois waters of the lake, her husband had indeed made her yearnings true, the magnificent view beyond her was all that she had dreamed and expected of Italy.

Her hair was drawn up in a bun; she still wore her nightdress and robe, not feeling like coming out of her room just yet.

Her breakfast tray lay untouched, and her mind churned with the memories of him, her palm touched her lips as if to stifle another sigh.

How in the world would she start to tell him?

Would he strike her?

Feminine reason argued that she did not have to tell him the whole truth, just make up an excuse for him to finally end this…


But how could she do that to him?

He was everything from dear and kind to her, if he had been mean and unjust with her this would've been so easy; yes he had been strict with her sometimes, like a teacher with a bright student, trying to bring out the good in them, he had always showed her the best of life, when her father had passed away, he barged into her old room of girlish memoirs, saw her clutching the old photograph of her father with the Eiffel tower behind him her tears staining the crumpled paper. He had decided to ship her there after a few weeks of mourning, to recuperate; to finally make peace with the loss of her parent.

Do no linger on memories, child.

She remembered him saying before he kissed her goodbye, She had felt like a worthless orphan but he had picked her up and mended her to be strong, a true lady of character.
And now she had gone to reminisce on an old love of hers.

I'm awful.

It was a knock on the door that roused her from her thoughts; she looked towards the door with a sunny smile.

"You look beautiful." He said, coming to sit down across from her, his white hair combed and righted, a handkerchief in his breast pocket; he was such a strict dresser unlike her.

"Thank you, love." she said softly, already going to pour him a cup of tea, he had accepted it with a smile, his eyes warming at the sight of her, a few of his family and friends had seen him like this, from afar everyone saw the pair of them as daughter and father, upon close inspection one would call they're arrangement "A marriage of benefits."; A match between an old billionaire and a young beauty, but they both knew they had something more than that, an understanding, yes, she couldn't say her marriage was barren of benefits, when her friends had to save up for shopping trips, and mythical holidays, she had to simply snap her fingers for it to happen.

She never blushed about her good fortune, never really looked upon it as a regret, until now…

"You know, the other day I came across a friend of mine."

"Oh…In paris?" he asked half interested.

"Yes, she said she dreamed of father, he said he told her to get a divorce."

"From the looks of it, she wants to file for divorce, and had made up that story of a dream to have your support." he said, quickly assessing her imaginary friends story as a ruse.

"I don't know, but I must say she had succeeded, I told her if one of the partners wants it to be over, its over." she said wisely.

"Yes, that is true." he said after thinking over it for a moment.

"Anyhow. “ He continued, quickly wanting to end the disturbing matter, for he could see his dear wife had gone a bit pale of retelling the trifle story to him. "I had arranged to go on a boat ride today, I thought to take you out to see the sights"

"Oh no, darling. I don't feel well today." she said, quickly throwing the idea out, she was never one for long boat rides, the feel of the tide swaying the metal leverage always made her uneasy, besides she couldn't continue this charade of being the virtuous wife.

She felt rotten and sinful all the way.

He deserved to know.

"Actually I have something to tell you." she said putting her teacup back on the saucer.

"Hm?" said her husband giving her a courteous smile, the crow feet at the corner of his eyes deepening.

"That story I told you…I meant it for us. I think we should get one."

It was a long moment of forbidding silence before he replied.

"Get what?"

"A divorce." she said watching the jaw clamp with emotion.

"Your Insane." he said.

"I really do think it’s the fair thing to do." she replied in the most polite tone she could conjure.

"Fair? Fair!" he repeated looking at her like she had lost her wits, "You marry me with your fathers consent, then when he passes on, you lose yourself in your own sorrow and come back to me asking for a divorce?"

She realized then that he thought she had been speaking from the aching sorrow she had felt for her father’s death.

"You shouldn’t think of it like that, I do feel its the right thing for us." she said softly putting a hand over his own aging one.

"You already have your children, your first wife. I feel its time for me to move on, be those things I could never be to you, a mother of my children." she said trying to show him reason with her decision.

He gave her a knowing look then. "So…there's someone else." he said, it wasn't a question, but a conclusion. "Is this your friend? The one you spoke of?"

Oh god.

She was cornered now, she did not know if answering with the affirmative would bring the matter to close, but she was making him angry and it wouldn't do to his health.

"That’s not the issue." she argued.

"That's all the issue, you never complained about our arrangement, you never cared for children in fact you were thankful you wouldn't have any, or do you not remember our wedding night?" he said cruelly.

She deserved every word.

"Or was the Oscar De la Renta too comfortable? “he asked referring to her wedding dress, she turned every shade of pink at the mention of that, she had been a fanciful girl then, thinking that luxury was all that mattered in life, throwing away anything that made her feel, made her too weak, she had sold her very Humanity without even knowing it.

"Its over. “she replied simply to his stabbing words.

"We'll see about that." he said softly, already excusing himself.

It was a week later when she dared ask for him again.

One of the servants looked at her like she was daft, he spoke to an upper servant in Italian and the later came back to her bearing his master's whereabouts.

"The sir is with his family, they go with him to Ospedale." he said in broken English.

It was the last word he spoke that made her eyes widen, and her heart beat faster.

Ospedale?

"To the hospital?" She repeated searching they’re features for confirmation.

Both of the servants nodded.

“Si, Signora.”

Please god, don't let his fall be my burden…I cannot bear it.

She clenched her eyes shut in a flinch, then opened them once more with new resolve, she had to see him, civil rules be damned.



To be continued