HER
I got three years.
Not peace.
Never peace.
But quiet, maybe.
Three years.
HIM
It was around this time of year, the last time I saw Laura Charles. Just after the spring festival, when she left for the Kingsward social season.
"Aleksi! Get those bags up here now!"
Servants rushed past me as I carried armful after armful of luggage up the stairs.
I took a moment to collect myself, while everyone was rushing around. Leaning on the table in the mending room, worries weighed heavily on me.
Laura had run off after we kissed. Sprinted, actually.
She ran out into the pouring rain to get away from me.
Great for a man's ego, that one.
I thought everything had gone to hell. That I would never get her to forgive me.
"Aleksi."
I thought I imagined her voice, but when I looked up, I saw her slipping into the room, shutting the door behind her.
She looked at me, wide eyed.
We were both frozen, unsure how to proceed.
"Laura!"
"Alekis!"
We both winced at the various calls, summoning us from our hiding place.
She swallowed, looking suddenly determined, before marching over to me and grabbing my hand.
I was so shocked I didn't even register that she had placed something in my palm until she was at the doorway, looking over her shoulder at me.
The moment is burned into my mind. How her slender hand gripped the door. How her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes bright.
She was gilded by the sun, stray curls caressing her face, as she looked at me.
"See you soon, Krasivak."
I thought she meant it.
I didn't get to read her note until after they were disappearing down the drive.
Dear Aleksi,
I don't know exactly how to write this, you must know by now that I'm not exactly good with feelings or hard situations. And that I may have a tendency to run away. But it's not what you might think. I don't run away because I'm unhappy, but rather overwhelmed.
Do you understand?
I hope you can forgive me.
Yours,
Laura
P.S. Wait for my letter, I'll write you.
I gently pull the old letters from my drawer. A whole stack of them. Covered in the same, precise writing.
True to her word, she had written me.
Two whole months.
The paper is worn now, tearing at some of the folds.
I swipe my thumb over one, sighing.
A soft knock at the door snaps me out of my reverie.
"Thought you might be here."
I know Amber doesn't mean in my room. She means in the past.
I hum noncommittally before gently tucking the stack of letters back into my drawer, right next to the other stack.
She waddles over to the fireplace, frowning at my bare mantle.
"Do you still write to her?"
I glance at her, hesitant to answer.
My silence seems to only confirm her fears, though.
She sighs, coming to stand next to me and look into my drawer. The one drawer in my room that locks. The one I open once a week, to tuck a new letter in the stack next to Laura's letters.
The other objects in the drawer might seem random, but they all tell their own story.
A drawing of Laura.
A flag ripped from the decorations at the spring festival.
A pressed flower from a Christmas crown.
If it was anyone else, perhaps I would close the drawer. Hide it.
But Amber never judges me.
Not after everything.
"I still write to Grace."
Sadness curves her shoulders forward, heaviness rimming her eyes.
I just nod.
"You know…" Her face twists, as though she's already disappointed in me. "I know you've told me not to bother you about it, but Sara does like you—"
"Amber." My voice is flat. Uncompromising.
"You have to let go eventually."
"Like you do?" The words come out sharper than I meant them. All acid. All pain.
"My sister is dead, Aleksi. Laura just broke your heart." Her words are full of the same pain. The kind that takes itself out on others. "Some day you'll need to wake up and face reality. She left you. She isn't ever coming back!"
"Get out."
"Gladly."
I slam the drawer as she slams the door.
Familiar pain grips my chest.
She left you.
I recoil from the words, despite the truth that rings in them. Yet, I know Amber wasn't really saying those words to me. After all, I wasn't the only one Laura left here.
She never came back from Kingsward. She handed in her notice while there and disappeared into the night. No goodbye. No forwarding address.
Gone.
Flopping onto my bed, it groans in protest under me.
I had asked Adah time and time again if she had given any hints, any indication as to where she went. But Adah only knew that she had left to look after some sick family member.
Guilt pricks at me for how I treated Amber, but exhaustion weighs heavily on me.
I'll apologize later, I tell myself dismissively, drifting into familiar dreams.
—
"Aleksi!"
Something's wrong.
Usually, it takes a small miracle to get me out of bed. But the panic in Elliot's voice makes me aware in an instant.
I'm out of bed before he's even in the room.
"What happened?"
His face is stained with tears, fear in his wild eyes.
"It's Amber."
HER
Two Months Prior
"Damn it." I sigh heavily, frowning at my attempt to make Mrs. Kozlov's signature fish pie. Although, just calling it fish pie is a serious understatement. It has multiple layers of fillings surrounded by a flaky pastry.
Though my cooking skills have improved over the last few years, clearly I was too ambitious.
It looks somehow both undercooked and burnt. Mrs. Kozlov would cluck her tongue at me if she could see this.
But I wanted something special for today.
It's been six months since her last visit, and I'm anxious to see her. I look around at my somehow clean apartment.
I live above the dress shop, but usually my work leaks into my home space. Fabrics of all colours draped over every available surface. A tuft of lace here, a pin cushion there.
I'm fussing with the simple flowers I picked and put into a vase when there is a sharp wrap on the door.
In a moment I'm there, throwing the door wide, grinning ear to ear.
"Adah."