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.



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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