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Think of you! I do not think of you; you are always before my soul.
The Sorrow of Young Werther, Goethe
Pantalone already has a fiancé.
Yes, I know. I'm well aware of that.
Actually, it was the first thing I heard when I first met him at a party, which I hated so much. Even though I heard it, I couldn't take my eyes off the purple glow in those pretty eyes behind the glasses.
That smile helped me breathe for a while.
His presence had completely changed my routine. Every morning, I pay him a visit. I have to meet him. It's all I think about when I wake up and look out the window. I never knew how beautiful the sky at sunrise was.
That was all I could think about. Nothing else enters my mind.
Those purple eyes behind the glasses frame gave me a welcome smile every time I saw them. I went to him as an acquaintance and brought him some fresh flowers (picked from my garden). His fiancé was out at the moment, but even though he was, he wasn't in my interest.
I absolutely loved our conversations. Whatever the subject is. Whether it's a silly topic, a triviality, the weather, books, or fanciful poems.
His soft voice was deeply rooted in my brain. When our feet accidentally touched, my heart skipped a beat. I flinched as if I'd been hit by a hot flame, but my desire tells me to reach my leg out and touch him again.
When we were talking, his slender hand rest on my body, especially when he was enjoying the conversation. Our body moves closer. His warm breath caressed my cheek. At that moment, it was like a lightning strike in the middle of a pathetic man's chest.
Will he recognize my overflowing adoration and reconsider his decision?
I kept asking myself this question as I looked into his eyes. I hope he has some thoughts about how I feel.
I began smearing my brushes across a large canvas in the middle of my room. His image gradually appeared, though it did not exactly resemble him. But I'm satisfied with this. I hung it at the far end of the empty bed. I'm not lonely any longer.
That night, I stretch out my arms toward him when I awaken from my weary slumbers. I seek for him in my bed, but I found only emptiness. Some sweet dream has happily deceived me, and placed him near me under the tree I often visit. His crow-colored hair was tied up loosely. Even though he wears glasses, but it didn't obscure his beauty at all. I seized his hand and covered it with countless kisses.
And when I woke up, tears that I couldn't identify as joy or despair started pouring out of me.
Pantalone is getting married.
He told me one morning that I had cooked for him. His fiancé has returned. It reminded me that I needed to get as far away from him as I could.
I decided to leave the city for a while. A week or so I don't even remember. Keeping eyes on new attractions, my friends gave me a lot of advice. But in everything I did at that time, he was always there.
I have so much in me, and the feeling for him absorbs it all; I have everything, and without him it all comes to nothing.
I couldn't resist this pleading feeling, so I came back. He is married, yet my heart is burning. Sometimes I don't understand how people can love him as much as I do. I loved him so completely myself, all of me, he had it all. Those people couldn't even be compared. I have nothing but him.
But then he invited me to dinner, all of these thoughts vanished.
I waited for letter that his wedding day had arrived, and I planned to remove Pantalone's portrait from the wall and destroy it with some other papers. They are now married, and his picture still remains here. So let it remain that way. Let it be a reminder that I still have a place in his heart, even if it isn't the first place.
One day, as I had come to Pantalone's house for dinner as usual, I noticed a letter on the table that he must have written for his husband who was away on business. The letter said 'To my dear husband. Please come back as soon as possible. I'm waiting here with countless sentimentality.'
I heard that he hasn't returned anytime soon. This letter had not yet been sent and it was in my hands. I read it and smiled. My beautiful Pantalone asked why. I replied.
"I fancied for a moment that this was written to me."
His expression was stoic, but seemed displeased. I did not say anything further. Today's dinner was less flavorful than usual. Maybe it's because those eyes aren't fixed on me anymore.
After a long period of silence, the dishes on the table were being kept away. It's time to go. He walked me to the front of a gorgeous polished wooden door. I said goodbye to him and he waved before saying 'Farewell, dear Zandik'.
Dear Zandik. He calls me dear! Pantalone has never called me that before. This voice will live on in my heart until the day I die. I played that voice over and over in my head. If it was a record tape, it would definitely be broken.
Before going to bed, I stood in front of the mirror and then said, 'Good night, Dear Zandik,' before letting out a soft laugh.
It's raining today, as if the sky is about to fall. The flowers in the garden sway under the weight of the raindrops. Bright light does not shine on me like everyday. The cold air was so overwhelming that the fireplace couldn't help relieve it. It would be great, if Pantalone was here.
I imagined a picture of him having fun with his husband in this cold weather. My heart ached just thinking about it. But then there was a voice in front of the door.
'He' came to me
With a food box in his hand. He said he made it for me. He assumed I must be hungry in this terrible weather. I smiled and accepted it with joy. Before he walked back in the rain with an umbrella, I didn't even hold him back.
He might not know that he is preparing a poison which will slowly destroy us both; I drink it willingly. His gentle gaze pierced into my body until there was almost no space left. The light he was for me was burning me to ashes. There was never a place for me in his heart in the first place.
I slowly accepted this truth. This story would only come to an end if someone died. I can't kill him, but I'd never hate his husband even if I wanted to. There was only one solution left.
Myself.
The red apple in the food box had been poisoned by myself. I bite it slowly, allow it to gently destroy me. The delectable flavor melted into my mouth like his lip. Before the vision in front of me blurred, my heart skipped a beat. If this was the death he chose for me, I would gladly accept it.
The rain was silent. 'Goodbye, dear Zandik' were circling in my head, and my eyes could only see pitch black.