between us

Enveloped in the light streaming down from the heavens, still feeling the sensation of her touch lingering on my skin and her sweet, hypnotizing aroma swirling in my nostrils, I finally arrived home. Yet, it felt as though a part of me remained back at her place, lost in the embrace of her presence, still engaged in the dance of our shared moments. Her delicate figure, gracefully locked in my arms as I pulled her close, the memory of her bosom lingering in the air as I kissed her and savored her lips.

As I stepped inside, greeted by a cool rush of air, darkness surrounded me, punctuated by a scent both familiar and foreign. It took me a moment to place it, but when I did, it hit me with a wave of nostalgia.

Walking further into the darkness, a pang of homesickness gripped my heart. Suddenly, memories of Mom, Dad, and my past flooded back, moments I had been running from for so long.

Flicking on the switch, my eyes fell upon a box placed near the sofa, a reminder of my hurried actions earlier in the evening before heading to her place.

I didn't bother opening it immediately; I knew exactly what it contained the moment I saw the sender's address. It was from Dad, his new address clearly printed on the label. He had called me just a few days ago to inform me of his marriage to some woman and his move to live with her and her daughter, Nora—he made sure to mention her name.

I didn't express any disapproval over his marriage because, truthfully, I had no interest in his life anymore. After Mom's passing, when I witnessed his involvement with other women, I had made a firm decision: I had no business left with a man who couldn't remain loyal to his own wife, with whom he had shared so many years. Even during Mom's life, I had sensed his affairs with other women, despite her efforts to shield me from the truth.

"That's good for you," was all I had said in response to his news. After all, he hadn't called to ask for my approval; it was just a formality.

"You really shouldn't have to do this either," I muttered to myself, shaking my head in disgust at the information he had shared. My mother had died, and he hadn't cared for her. All he seemed concerned about after her death was his next marriage. With a woman he likely loved long before my mother's passing.

Ignoring the box initially, I headed straight to my room to freshen up. It wasn't physical exhaustion weighing me down, but rather the incessant thoughts of what could possibly be inside it. Despite quenching my thirst in the kitchen, I couldn't shake the urge to investigate further. Grabbing a knife from the counter on my way out, I found myself drawn back to the box.

Placing it between my feet, I began methodically cutting away the plastic wrapping. My hands paused momentarily when the last of the wrapping fell away, hesitation gripping me before I mustered the courage to open it.

"What could possibly be inside?" I pondered, contemplating the consequences of uncovering its contents.

As I lifted the lid, a folded piece of paper caught my eye. Retrieving it, I found a blank sheet containing only a single line nestled amidst the endearments.

"Dear Arthur,

Accept the accessories belonging to you.

Your father."

Folding the paper back, I placed it on the table before turning my attention back to the box. Its contents were sparse, explaining why I had been able to move it near the sofa unaided.

As I pulled out the frame and turned it over, I was met with the sight of a beautiful young lady. She was dressed in a black frock with a white D-shaped collar adorned with delicate lace. Red lipstick adorned her lips, while white pearls dangled from her ears. The olive green hues of her eyes shimmered with a sense of inner contentment. It was a picture of her from the early days of her marriage.

Every time I gazed upon this image of her, I couldn't help but wonder if this man had ever truly loved her. She was so innocent, so pure, yet she seemed oblivious to his true nature.

I wiped my hand across the frame and pressed a kiss to it before turning my attention to the next item—a box containing all the toys from my childhood that had managed to survive over the years, some of which Mom had saved.

Beside it lay another envelope and an album filled with photographs. A strange mix of nervousness and terror enveloped me as a curious urge washed over me. I couldn't quite pinpoint what troubled me so deeply, or why I felt both nervous and terrified at the same time.

Did I have an inkling of what might be inside these items? Perhaps. Or maybe not. Doubt clouded my thoughts, but it was something more profound than mere uncertainty.

I reached for the envelope, my hands trembling as if seized by an unseasonal cold. It sent shivers down my spine, the kind that threatened to crush every bone in my body and steal my very life away.

Carefully extracting a paper from within, I unfolded it with fingers that felt like ice. The page was only half-filled with ink, leaving the rest blank. Perhaps the sender had run out of words, or perhaps they had left space for me to pour out my own hateful thoughts. But as I began to read, the endearment at the top left corner of the page—"Dear Arthur"—felt bitterly unfamiliar, knowing who had written it.

"I know you're in pain, and unfortunately, I'm the reason," the letter began. "Though I never intended for things to end up like this. You know that, don't you? What happened that night was wrong, and it shouldn't have happened that way."

Tears welled up in my eyes as I continued to read. "I tried to plead with them for you, but they wouldn't listen. And you... you never came back after that. I waited for you every evening by the riverbank, hoping you'd return. At night, I would envision us both there."

My heart ached with every word. "Unfortunately, Arthur, I had to obey their orders and leave this state. For us. Because of us. All I ever wanted was for us to live happily and cheerfully together."

"Yours, and always yours, Liesel."

"Liesel," I whispered, tears streaming down my cheeks. "It's all because of us."

"We never should have gotten so close in the first place," I muttered, the weight of regret heavy in my voice.

"Yeah, all because of us," I repeated, folding the paper and slipping it back into the envelope.