I remember it well enough, seared on my flesh—the night itself heavy with unexpressed sorrow and unshed guilt. Even the villa was drab, once melodious corridors now ominous and malignant foreboding. A table lamp lit a patch of light downstairs, and I awoke and fidgety, the ticking of the clock and far-off vibration of the city to listen to. Outside the window, there was a winter moon hanging low in the sky, its light filtered through the curtains as a hope and an eternal grief.
I had lived the weeks in a state of terror, our lives governed by rumour of danger and Caspian’s relentless over protectiveness. Each day a fight with an unseen enemy, each night a fight to pacify our devils. And now, tonight everything changed.
It began with heavy quiet in my bedroom. Caspian had already been distant for days—a man who had entwined me in his love and adoration was now a form of fear and remorse. I sat up on the edge of the bed, folding my exhausted blanket on top of myself, attempting to hold onto the flames that I was certain burned at the core of me. But his distance, his emotional removal, hurt harder than any physical wound.
I stepped into the sitting room, the polished hardwood floor chilly against my naked feet. The gentle patter of rain on the big windows merged with the gentle rumble of a gentle wind in the distance. I bent over the fire, where the ashes glowed dully in the waning light, and wrestled with the hollowness that had descended on us. I remembered the acrid recriminations of the previous evening—the stark confessions and supplications we had made to one another—and asked myself if our love would ever grow strong enough to bear the weight of our mutual terrors. I could hear the sound of footsteps—a light, hesitant sound—descending from the study.
I stood rigid, my heart pounding, and entered the room. There, where the light had dimmed, Caspian leaned back across the desk, his own face a battlefield of conflicting feelings. Paper covered the floor in all directions, and the soft whine of an unlit lamp hung suspended in the stillness between us. I had observed the lines of self-blame and exhaustion inscribed in his face, and had myself experienced a quick gust of such resentment that tears had brimmed at the outer corner of my own eye. “Caspian:” I began, my own voice trembling, but he raised his head before I could say another word. His dark wild eyes, which had overflowed with hope not so many moments ago, flashed with something that tugged at my heartstrings with pain now. Shame and desperation were mixed with love in the white naked face. He was trying to conceal himself from me, but pain was etched on his face.
“I’m sorry, Lily,” he wheezed, as if to say something foul. “Sorry I’ve gotten you into this mess.” He coughed and his voice broke and he couldn’t even look at me. I pushed him along with my hand on the crown of his head.
“Please,” I whispered, “I have to know what is that you are thinking.”
For what seemed like an eternity, the room was as silent as a graveyard, interrupted only by our hacky breaths.
And then, as if the dam of terror had finally burst, Caspian’s voice blew out, his raw, tortured voice voicing the words his eyes had never had the courage to say out loud. “I’m afraid, Lily,” he confessed, clinging to my hand around it. “Not of the dangers from outside—of the danger to which we’ve been brought, but of you. One day, I believe, you will wake and realize that you are better than to be left in this perpetual shadow. That you’ll leave.” Those three words—heart wrenching, raw, and unfiltered—burned their way into my soul. I stood there, shocked, and for an instant, all the safety and security of our world was gone. “Caspian, I… I can’t afford to ever lose you,” I whispered, my words shaking with emotion. “I choose you every day, even when it is difficult. I do not want you to feel that you are not enough for me.”
His own eyes full of unshed tears, his eyes locking with mine and bulging, filling my chest with unshed tears.
“I’m sorry,” he growled for the umpteenth time, his voice heavy with regret. “I built all those walls thinking I was protecting you by doing that, I thought I was keeping you safe from the monsters of my past. But it looks like all I have done is trap you and lose you gradually.” And I’m so scared… Scared that if you look just how much darkness there really is in me, you’ll go.”The bitter truth of his confession contemptuous as slivers of ice seared the corner of my eyes.
“Caspian, listen,” I gasped, leaning in so our foreheads were almost touching. “I love you for who you are—your strength, your passion, your flaws.” I don’t want to be denied the world because you are afraid of letting go. I want to live, and I want to battle our demons side by side. I deserve to be happy, as do you. His fierce gaze was overwhelming, his face dark pools of despair. That was how I remembered him at this moment of insight—a shattered man, trembling in fear and shame, searching for the sole love he knew that he had more of than he did. His trembling hand touched my face, his fingers hot but tight as if he longed to mend the pieces of his shattered heart together.
“Lily, night after night, I’m filled with dread I’ll lose you,” he panted, his rough, rasping breath hardly more than a whisper.
“I dream I lose you by my side, and with fear, I wake, dreaming of a world where I shall never be able to find you.”. I’m so scared that if you ever get to see just how much you deserve—a life of hope and light—you’ll leave, and I’ll have nothing but this darkness.” He was shaking in his voice and for a moment, he looked like man that was utterly defeated.