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All was still.
She had lost her battle. Her breathing had given out, and after a long fight, her body relaxed. Her pale face was unnaturally peaceful for someone who had been hanging onto the threads of life so desperately due to a worsening illness just moments earlier.
His dear Violetta, who was previously clinging onto his button-down shirt; now motionless, in a deep slumber from which she would never wake up from. He ran his hands through her soft hair, tears dripping from his eyes— why had he ever left her? He cradled her tighter, as if his own body heat and sheer will would miraculously revive her. Of course, it did not. He had to be practically pried off of her while Violetta’s handmaid, Annina, rushed to find Doctor Grenvil.
“Alfredo,” Germont tried to divert his son’s gaze away from the dead woman on the bed. “She is in God’s hands now. She suffers no more.”
Alfredo did not seem to hear. Or perhaps he did, but simply refused to accept it. Violetta couldn’t be dead, not after all she’d gone through and put up with. He realized he still clutched the locket she had given him; one with her portrait in it.
‘Something to remember me by,’ she had told him. She was insistent on him having it.
How silly of her to think he’d ever forget the imprint she left on his heart! It seemed like every waking moment of his was spent thinking about her— the brightness of her eyes, the gentle curl of her hair, cascading down over her shoulders. He still remembered the camellia she had given him, which was originally pinned to her dress; it was white and perfectly intact, even throughout a whole night of partying.
He’d never forget Violetta.
~•~
“Violetta,” a hand on her shoulder interrupted Violetta from getting herself ready.
She turned her head toward Annina, who wore a concerned expression. “Yes?”
“I am not so sure you are well enough to..” she trailed off, clearing her throat. “Doctor Grenvil is on his way here to check on you. Just to make sure things are alright.”
Violetta gave a look of disconcertment. “I am fine. ” She replaced her lipstick into the drawer of her vanity, attempting to dismiss Annina’s concern for her— but even she noticed the subtle tremble in her hand. It was leftover weakness from her flare up that left her bedridden for nearly a month. Violetta swore she was on Death’s doorstep during those weeks.
“Very well.” She gave a single nod. Violetta knew she only meant well. Annina was scared half to death worrying about her, the poor thing. She would sit at her bedside, offering her water or helping her sit up to cough up concerning amounts of blood into a handkerchief.
As Annina went off to fetch Grenvil, Violetta sat down at her vanity for a moment, lost in thought. What would have happened if she were to die last week? Or the week before that? She shook her head to rid herself of her worries— she was about to host a party, after all— there was no time to worry!
The door clicked open at the top of the stairs. “Violetta? Doctor Grenvil is here.” Annina’s voice sounded from the doorway, letting her know once again of his arrival.
“Yes, yes,” she replied. “Come on down.”
The prick of Grenvil’s needle caused a sharp pain at first. Violetta winced, looking away from the blood. It was very ironic that despite practically vomiting blood for weeks, she was still very squeamish toward it. Grenvil wrapped a bandage around the prick site and turned to speak with Annina in a hushed voice.
Violetta could not make out what they were saying, and it made her feel like a small child whose parents were keeping a secret from her. It was not like it was new news for her; she knew that she would die some day, perhaps sooner than she’d hoped. However, why dwell on that? If anything, that should fuel her motivation to live out these months in pleasure and joy, of course! She stood up and waved Grenvil off with a light scoff.
“Annina, could you perhaps take Doctor Grenvil to the door? The ball is about to begin.” Violetta was not necessarily asking her, moreso commanding her gently.
Annina obliged, and the two left at once, leaving Violetta alone again. She returned to fixing up her make-up— touching up her lipstick and adding a little more powder to hide her still-pale face. Just in time for Annina to start letting guests in.
Clink . The sound of glasses and people talking slowly subdued as a man got their attention by tapping on his own glass with a spoon.
“Why, we should have someone make a toast for the lovely lady hosting us!” He looked around briefly, as if he were surveying the crowds for someone who potentially looked like they could have a word to say. “How about you, Baron Duphol?”
The Baron, a man with greying hair and a face red with anger, simply shook his head. The woman next to him snickered, and whispered something to her companion.
“Very well.” He continued to scan over people. “What about you?” He outstretched a hand. “Alfredo, was it? Are you not a poet? Give us a word or two!”
Alfredo felt the burning gazes of nearly everyone in the room on him, but especially Violetta’s. She stood at the foot of the stairs, waiting expectantly. There was no way he could disappoint her.
“Ah, well,” Alfredo cleared his throat, trying to find something. “Would it please you?” He asked Violetta.
She seemed to consider it for a moment. “Yes,” she responded slowly. “It would.”
His heart nearly jumped out of his chest. “Alright then… I’d like to start off by thanking Ms. Violetta, for organizing this ball…”
A few laughs poorly disguised as coughs could be heard. It was obvious that Alfredo was very naïve.
Violetta had the ghost of a smirk playing on her lips as he continued his monologue. She seemed to be listening to his blabbering intently, despite it being very… silly.
Alfredo felt the pressure and scrambled to grab a glass of wine. He held it up. “Why don’t we have a drink? Start the night off nicely…” He paused, he had an idea. “Drink to the thrilling sweetness, brought to us by love.” He looked directly at Violetta. “For these fair eyes, irresistibly, pierce us to the heart.” He grinned. “Wine will warm the kisses of love!”
The crowd seemed to be into it.
Violetta approached Alfredo, glass still in hand. Everyone had dispersed once more, listening to the music that was now being played.
“Not bad for being put on the spot, hm?” He smiled at her. He still felt like his cheeks were warm from the embarrassment— or maybe it was from the fact that Violetta had come over to talk to him .
She giggled. “You seemed very put on the spot, yes,” she swirled the wine in her glass and finished it. “Blushing red as a tomato… However, yes. Not bad.” She teased.
Alfredo opened his mouth to speak, but Violetta was already on the move.
The two sat down on the couch, before being joined by one of Violetta’s dear friends, Flora.
“Violetta, dear, how are things with the Baron?” Flora placed her hands on Violetta’s. “He seemed very flustered earlier.” She had a teasing edge to her comment.
“He is just upset that I pointed out that he seemed to care about me less than our friend Alfredo here, who has barely known me!” Violetta laughed. “It’s a shame, though. You’d think after doing so much for him—“ She was cut off by a bout of coughing.
“Violetta!” Flora immediately grabbed a napkin off the table and handed it to her. “Are you alright? I had thought you were better already.”
Violetta put a hand up. “I am alright ! I am fine.” She protested, trying to stand up. She seemed to get dizzy, though, because she immediately fell back onto the couch.
Alfredo watched panickedly, unsure if he should offer to help her or not. He noticed the blood on the napkin Violetta had just coughed into.
Flora immediately jumped up. “Come on, dear.” She lent a hand to her, helping her stand up. Her voice was oddly calm, but her expression was entirely of worry. “Maybe we ought to get you somewhere quieter.”
Dizzy, weak, and sore.
Violetta lay in bed, dizzy, weak, and sore. She clutched a bloodied handkerchief in her hand as she lay in bed.
“Annina?” Her voice was quiet and hoarse. She leaned forward to try and get the attention of her handmaid.
“Violetta? Do you need water?” Annina responded, rushing over to her lady’s side. She helped her sit up, pushing more pillows behind her back to support her.
“… call Doctor Grenvil.” Violetta spoke. “Please.”
“Oh dear. Has it gotten that bad?”
Violetta nodded. “I can barely breathe, Annina.” She felt her eyes water with tears of fear. “Something is very wrong.”
Annina took one look at the handkerchief in Violetta’s hand and gasped. “Is this the first time you’ve coughed up blood?” She took it from her and stared wildly.
Violetta paused. “Yes,” she lied. It was not in fact the first time, but the earlier times did not cause her that much of a concern. She had brushed it off as her stressing too much over her clients’ approval. She had also been ill before, but she was fine. What was so different now?
“Heavens! Violetta, what if—“
“Please call Doctor Grenvil, Annina.” Violetta didn’t want Annina to state what was on both of their minds:
What if she was dying?
“Right.” She glanced over Violetta one more time before hurrying off to phone Doctor Grenvil.
It seemed like ages before he arrived. When he did, he took one look at Violetta before shaking his head and turning to Annina.
“How long has she been like this?”
“I am unsure. She told me that this was the first time she coughed up blood.” She paused. “She has not eaten nearly enough as she should in days. She looks sickly pale.”
Doctor Grenvil took one of Violetta’s hands and examined it. He took her temperature and took her blood. “Annina.” His expression was grave.
“What is the matter?”
“I believe she is ill with consumption.” He concluded.
Violetta was listening, but she could barely muster the energy to respond. When she heard his diagnosis, though, she felt her heart stop.
“If she rests, she should make a good recovery.” Grenvil followed up. “Please,” he turned to Violetta. “Do not push yourself. Rest.” He ordered.
“She will.” Annina nodded.
Sunlight filtered through the thin curtains covering the windows that showcased the beautiful countryside. Rolling spring-green hills stretched out for kilometers, ending where the lake met. The home was silent.
There was a subtle stirring in bed as Violetta awoke slowly. She turned over, expecting to be greeted by the warmth of another, but realized otherwise when she was met by a cool, empty spot next to her.
With a sigh, Violetta sat up, feeling the morning warmth escaping her as she stepped out of bed into her slippers. She took a moment to intake the moment— the sunlight, illuminating the room; the half unkempt bed, one side messy from Violetta sleeping in it, the other, untouched— seemingly fixed while she was asleep. She slipped on her robe over her light nightdress, heading out of the bedroom.
The wooden floorboards creaked as she walked through the house, getting used to how bright it was. It was silent in the living room, aside from the gentle whistle of the morning breeze blowing in from an open window.
“Annina? Are you here?” Violetta looked around. It felt oddly strange to be alone. She’d been alone, of course, many times; nights where her clients would leave soon after business, or nights where she could not sleep. Perhaps it felt different because she had no more reason to do either of those things.
Almost as if on cue, the door opened and shut as Annina came in with the laundry that Violetta had helped her hang yesterday.
“Oh! Violetta, you’ve woken up!” Even Annina seemed to look like there was a large weight lifted off her chest. She looked much happier knowing that Violetta was recovering.
“Oh, Annina, I could have helped you with that—“
“No no, it’s quite alright— you were asleep, I do not see why waking you up would have been a good idea!” She laughed. When was the last time Violetta heard Annina laugh? Surely not in a while.
“Ah—“ There was a flash of something in Annina’s eyes as she placed the laundry temporarily on an armchair. “There is a note left for you on the table.”
Violetta’s curiosity was piqued. A note? She looked over to the table, and yes, there was indeed a note. She picked it up, skimming it:
“Violetta—
I am out running errands this morning, though I expect to be back soon. I love you very much!
— Alfredo”
Alfredo… how unnecessarily kind he was to her. He was lovestruck . Yet she adored him— despite his silliness. She could not help but smile, imagining those words in his voice.
Ever since Violetta had decided to move away from lavish parties and frustrating clients, she had felt so much better. With Alfredo, she felt loved.
Alfredo did not care if she needed to stay in bed for a while longer because she felt ill; she still occasionally would have bouts of coughing fits that would leave poor Annina and Alfredo staring worriedly. If anything, Alfredo insisted she stay in bed while he fetched her water and something to eat.
He did not mind the first couple of nights, when she could not sleep at all, used to countless nights of being unable to. He would lay by Violetta’s side listening to her talk of her life— her mother who did not seem to care for her much at all, even when she was a child, or her father whom she never met. In turn, she’d learn about his life.
Violetta, note still in hand, went to sit on the armchair. Annina had gone off with the laundry, leaving Violetta alone with her thoughts once more. What had she done to deserve such kind treatment? From tiring nights of seemingly endless parties and clients who would just demand more and more— to a quieter, simpler one, with someone who cared about her more than life itself.
Violetta stood in front of her vanity, my goodness, how pale she had gotten! She desperately layered on powder, trying to hide it once more. She silently thanked Flora for having stayed with her for a few moments while she regained herself.
“Violetta!”
She spun in the direction of the voice, only to be met with Alfredo, the young man she was speaking to earlier.
“You? What are you doing here? Should you not be out there, dancing?”
“I… got worried about you. Are you feeling alright?”
She couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “Why do you care? You barely know me.”
Alfredo, ignoring her attitude, responded. “I think you ought to settle down.”
“Is this your poor attempt at trying to woo me?”
“No, no,” he shook his head. “I’m simply worried about you.”
“Again, you barely know me.”
“I know enough to know that you shouldn’t be causing yourself this much distress over a party!”
“Alfredo, my friend,” She looked at him through the reflection in the mirror as she reapplied lipstick for the nth time that night. “You should not waste your time nor love on me. I love freely,” She turned to him. “But I am not looking for love like you want.”
“You’ll kill yourself with this ‘love’ at this rate.”
The house itself was in a quaint location, not too far off from a lake nearby, but still enough to where one would need to take a brisk walk to it. The trip to the house, however, was a different story. It was long– of course, because it was far from Paris.
The house had large windows, framed with white trimming. The door was a large, dark oak door with a shiny gold doorknob. Two strong knocks at the door brought a woman, smaller in stature, to the door.
“Good afternoon, sir.” Her voice was softer than he expected.
“Good afternoon,” He observed her, trying to pinpoint who she was. “You are..?”
The woman opened the door a bit more. “My name is Annina. You must be Alfredo’s father?”
“Please, call me Germont.”
Annina acknowledged him. “I’m very sorry, sir, but Alfredo is not home at the moment, he is off running errands in Paris.”
“Not to worry, Annina. Is there a woman named Violetta Valéry here?”
“Oh,” Annina looked behind her, into the house. “Yes, she is. Come on in.”
Germont followed Annina into the house, glancing around at the interior. It was a clean home, with wood flooring. The large windows had white sheer curtains.
Violetta wore a white blouse with grey trousers; a simple necklace adorned her neck. She was in the living room, pacing back and forth. When she caught sight of him, she froze.
“You must be Violetta Valéry.”
“I am.” She stood, staring at Germont, who spared no time getting into why he was here.
“I have gotten word that my son, Alfredo, has been spending incredulous amounts of money on you.” His voice was tainted with contempt. “Why? What spell have you put him under? Have you manipulated your way into getting a young, naïve man’s money?”
Rage burned in Violetta’s eyes. “How dare you?” She stepped forward. “You have no idea what sacrifices I’ve made– I quit my life to live here with him.” She shook her head. “He has been nothing but kind to me, and I to him.” She picked up a pile of papers off the table before them. “How dare you assume that I am but a leech, only here for his money!” She shoved the papers into his hands, turning away from him slightly.
“...what are these?” Germont thumbed through them, his eyes growing wider with the contents of each one. “Dear Lord, you’ve sold all of your possessions!”
Wordlessly, she took the papers from him again. She gripped on to the arm of the sofa, seemingly needing extra support. “God has forgiven me for my life before.” She said after a moment. “I know that my life was less than favorable.”
“Violetta,” Germont approached her, offering a hand to her. “I’m very sorry for my poor assumption.” He wasn’t sure about how to go about the heartbreak he was about to offer her. “Alfredo means a lot to you, I see.”
Violetta did not take his hand. She sat down in the armchair by herself, avoiding his eyes. “He does.”
Germont gave a heavy sigh. “I have a very large favor to ask of you.” He started. “Please, listen to me, Violetta.” He waited a moment before continuing.
Violetta said nothing.
“One day, when you have children, you’ll understand. I only want what is best for my two children.”
Her gaze snapped up. “Your… two children?” She questioned.
“I have two children. A son, Alfredo, and a daughter. My daughter was proposed to by her lover,” he continued. “However, if Alfredo stays with you… it will get ruined. Violetta, I am asking you to please, leave Alfredo.”
Violetta stared at him, bewildered. “ Leave Alfredo? After all that I have given up to be here?”
“Yes, Violetta. Leave Alfredo, for his sister’s sake.” Germont repeated. “You will find love again.”
“Alfredo,” Violetta felt his arm brushing against hers. “Are you sure?” Her heart pounded. She hadn’t felt like this before. “You have known me for barely one night.”
“I have never been so sure of anything in my life. I love you.” Alfredo took one of Violetta’s hands into his own.
“I do not want you to be heartbroken if something goes awry, Alfredo.”
“I will not be.” He was looking directly at her, his amber eyes burning with a fiery passion she hadn’t noticed before. “Because I trust you.”
Violetta felt one of his hands rest on her hip gently, the other still holding hers. The energy between them felt electrified.
“May I kiss you, Violetta?”
“Yes.” There was no hesitation there. Was it because it was what she was used to, or was it from a place of true love? She couldn’t tell.
He was gentle with her, not like the Baron, who was rough— only after what he wanted, not really caring about how she felt. This kiss felt like it came from a place of care and warmth. She leaned into his touch, she couldn’t get enough of how damn gentle he was.
“What the devil are you two doing!” The sound of two guests laughing and joking around startled the pair.
“Nothing!” They blurted in unison, which made them look all the more suspicious.
Violetta broke away from Alfredo, wiping her mouth gently so as to not ruin (as if she wasn’t just locked lips with a man she barely knew) her lipstick. She saw that Alfredo had lipstick staining his lips and had to stop herself from laughing.
Before Alfredo headed out, she unpinned the white camellia that was on her dress. She presented it to him, “Take this flower.” She said, “Bring it back.”
He took it from her. “When?”
She smiled. “When it has wilted.”
His eyes widened. “So.. tomorrow!”
She could not hold back the laughter. She wiped his mouth with her thumb, finding that dopey stare of his amusing. “Very well. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
“Giorgio Germont.” Her words were spoken with venom. “I am dying. I do not have a life ahead of me. I will die before I find love again.”
“Put yourself in her place.” He tried. “When you die… I will let Alfredo know of your sacrifice.”
Violetta seemed to be considering his words. “How heartless can a person be?” She whispered.
“You’d be more heartless if you fulfilled your selfish love for him and ruined a perfectly good future marriage with your status.”
Offended, but silent, Violetta once again looked at him. “How am I supposed to…” She trailed off. “...where do I begin?”
“Leave a note. Say you went off and returned to your life of being a courtesan.” Germont suggested. “And– do not mention that I was here.”
Violetta picked up a blank paper. He hadn’t noticed before, but she was crying now.
“Thank you, Violetta.” Germont realized that she had silently agreed to his terms. “Your sacrifice will never be forgotten.”
He was breathing heavily, eyeing her wildly as she stared right back, teary-eyed and scared.
“I trusted you, Violetta!” He yelled. The ruckus alerted all the guests, who curiously entered the room they were in to watch.
“Alfredo, I am so, so sorry—“
“Why did you leave me? Was it Duphol?” He left no time for Violetta to try and explain herself. “I loved you, Violetta. Did you ever love me?”
His words stabbed at her. “Alfredo–“ She tried to reach out to him and explain, but he stepped away from her. “It was a person who had every right to tell me to leave.”
“So you love the Baron?”
“… I suppose I do. Yes.” The words came out impulsively.
“ Fine then,” He slammed his earnings from the game of poker he had just miraculously won in front of her. “To pay off my debts to you.” He shoved the bills toward her aggressively, earning boos from the crowd as they outraged at him for shaming Violetta’s name.
Pain burned throughout her entire body– from the body aches to the soreness of her chest from coughing so much. Her nightdress was stained with blood, and her face pale with illness. She could barely sit up by herself. Yet most of all, her heart ached with loneliness. Letters from Flora still came in routinely, but she had not visited in what felt like years.
It was quiet, but it was unlike any quiet she’d experienced before. It was a silence that seemed to thicken the air, filling her lungs, dragging her down. She wondered how long it would be before she died.
There was one letter left on her nightstand, unopened. It was addressed to Violetta in oddly familiar handwriting, from what she could tell.
“Violetta,” Annina’s voice startled her. “Doctor Grenvil is here.”
“Ah,” she tried to sit up on her own to no avail. Annina rushed over to help her sit up. “What time is it?”
“Around seven in the morning.” She responded. She pushed open the curtains gently, letting the morning light in. It did not make Violetta feel any better, like it used to.
Grenvil did his usual check-ups; he took her blood, took her temperature and then talked in a quiet voice with Annina quietly. “Did you sleep well?” He asked Violetta.
“Peacefully,” She responded.
“You should make a swift recovery soon.”
“Doctors are permitted to lie to their patients, hm?” Violetta cracked a small smile.
“Goodbye, Violetta.”
Violetta wasn’t sure if she had fallen asleep from the time that Doctor Grenvil had come around, but she did not remember anything after that. She reached for the letter on the nightstand, spilling her water in the process.
“Is everything alright?”
“My apologies, Annina. I am fine.” She opened the letter slowly.
Annina was alerted to a knock at the door, so she left promptly.
“Dearest Violetta—
You have kept your promise, and I, mine. Alfredo and the Baron have dueled— though, only the latter was injured, but now recovering. Alfredo went abroad; I revealed your sacrifice to him. Almost immediately, he decided to return to ask for your pardon. I will join him.
Take care of yourself, Violetta. You deserve a happier future.
— Giorgio Germont”
It was almost impossible to keep from weeping right then and there. Would Alfredo really want to see her again? She almost did not believe it— perhaps it was a faux note.. or maybe she had dreamt it all up. Maybe she still was dreaming—
“Violetta!”
Her attention was drawn to a very familiar face. It was enough to let her cry out tears of joy and break into a smile. A genuine smile.
“Alfredo!”
At last, they were reunited. Alfredo came crashing into her and, through a few moments of Violetta regaining the breath that had been knocked out of her, she clung onto his shirt to make sure this was real.
“I am so, so, terribly sorry, Violetta.” Alfredo embraced her tightly. “What I’d done can never be forgiven properly.”
She didn’t say anything, only continued to hold on tightly to her Alfredo. That was enough to get the point across.
“I missed you so, so terribly.” He continued.
Either the excitement of the moment overwhelmed Violetta, or the weakness was overtaking her, for all she could do was just rest there, clutching Alfredo.
“I love you.”