Chapter 26 : The Mysterious Letter

Paris, 1995.

In front of the Eiffel Tower glows yellow and majestic at night, this city holds so many hopes. For me, personally, those dreams continue to grow. Like roots that continue to dig into the soil as the sun's rays shower them with a million warmth. Just as I have always learned that being the best is never perfect. Our wishes in the world will never always be realized. Just like when I finally had to leave this city forever.

Yes, forever.

This letter will only ever be a love letter between myself and Paris. The romance that existed between me and this city made me remember that the dream that lives like the magnificent lights of this city at night is so attached like the blood that flows in the body. But apparently, after I opened this letter with the first sentence, I couldn't lie that there were still hopes that ended up empty.

Hopes that will never be realized.

Dreams that were finally abandoned.

Little Cornelius, do you still remember when you first yearned to create one grand work, one grand building to join the history of infrastructure in this city?

Of course, I still remember, said little Cornelius.

As much as I love architecture, everything is revealed through the messages and history that each building has. It's not just people who have stories. But every building also has its own reasons and stories of why it was built and exists.

Unfortunately, the dream is dashed.

We must be separated from the tangle of hopes that have been strung together for almost a lifetime.

The question is, can I bury that dream?

Can I go back to Jakarta and focus on working there without thinking about this?

President Anwar had put so much trust in me. I couldn't just turn him down because he was the President. He was the one who deserved my dreams. Small dreams that might have seemed unattainable at first, but when I was about to kiss the end of them, I chose instead to exhale and take a step back.

To a different opportunity.

To a life I never imagined.

Paris and my little dreams, I leave everything to you. I leave the past, the hopes and disappointments to you. Through the night sky with magnificent stars, I hope, there is still a place for me to pray.

If not Paris, then find me something else.

Something that can make me feel in love again.

Cornelius, H.

*

The words in the letter seemed to sink into Fiona's heart. In her mind, Fiona could clearly imagine the figure of a young Cornelius, writing in the garden in front of the Eiffel Tower, accompanied by a flake of wind that blew softly in the remaining words of goodbye that he would say.

Was this the day he would leave Paris?

A few days ago, Fiona had also read a short article about Cornelius' past. How that man had to give up his dreams to work with President Anwar and honor him for the sake of the country. For the sake of the country, Cornelius had given up his dreams in Paris and let him settle here.

It must have been an extremely difficult choice.

Especially, after that choice had already trapped him in the Marionette pressure that terrorized him.

Instantly, Fiona could feel the pressure of the horror that held Cornelius' emotions back. Through this letter, Fiona seemed to be able to feel that what Cornelius had said all this time was true. The sadness that was covered by time now turned into a form of shield against Marionette which even brought many disasters from the 'sacrifice' Cornelius made when he was young.

Is Cornelius now living in such great regret that the man is now so eager to avenge Marionette that he wants to keep Fiona that hard?

Fiona closed the letter, choosing to put it back into the old document folder. But as she moved to get up, she felt the wind moving behind her. As soon as she turned her head, Fiona jumped in surprise and almost slipped before Leonard's hand grabbed her waist and easily held Fiona's body that was holding on with one leg.

Their eyes met for a few seconds before Leonard tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Seriously, did you not hear me come in?"

Fiona furrowed her brows in annoyance. She was pulled gently to stand upright and then immediately moved two steps in a hurry to put the outdated documents back into the books on the shelf in front of her. She ignored Leonard beside her.

"What are you doing here? I want some me time," Fiona said with a bit of a snarl. She walked to the other side of the closet, but Leonard followed.

"It's past lunchtime. I happened to be able to leave work at the office for a while. I suddenly thought of you and wanted to see what you were doing at home. Oh yeah, I was also thinking about our wedding day."

When Fiona's hand was about to touch the book, she held back and turned to Leonard who was approaching. His eyes looked intensely into Fiona's eyes. There was a sensation that Fiona could never escape from Leonard's sharp, warm, and curious gaze. It was as if Fiona, who did not let go, also answered through that gaze.

But she couldn't.

Fiona looked away and scowled, turning her back on Leonard.

"I don't want to hear it. I hate you."

Leonard wrapped his arms around Fiona's waist, pulling her into a hug. She could feel his breath tickling around her neck and shoulders. Under the invisible pressure, her body involuntarily stiffened again.

"You're not a whore. You're not the fulfillment of my lust. But you are my first love."

Fiona's heart was beating irregularly. She was upset to hear that. She hated hearing that. Her ears were burning, let alone her breath. But why did she continue to freeze and instead let Leonard's lips come close to her ear, kissing softly and inhaling deeply? In fact, when Leonard left one thin kiss that vibrated her skin, Fiona was stunned. Trapped in a sensation so intoxicating. The sensation she hated so much.

"As a writer, do you ever believe in first love?" Leonard asked in a low, drifting tone.

Fiona had to bluff. She had to break free of this man's hold.

She jerked her elbows free from Leonard's embrace behind her and picked up the book she had been about to take from the middle shelf. She turned her head and looked sharply at Leonard who was smiling wryly. His eyes went from sharp, to seductive. It was as if the thin thread of seriousness he had spoken earlier failed to synopsize her.

"That's not love, Leonard. It's lust. Whatever it is, I'll never believe that you love me."

Leonard confined Fiona with both hands between the bookshelves. He bent down slightly and leveled his gaze with Fiona who was only a shoulder's length away. He smiled faintly.

"I'm not someone who falls in love easily. Even when my mother told me to marry Giovani so that my father could work with the East Jakarta mafia, I couldn't do it. Giovani is more than you. She's more beautiful, sexy, smart, and great than you. But why am I not in love with her?"

Fiona's breath caught. She realized that she had been wrapped up in Leonard's nonsense for too long.

Leonard's eyes searched for Fiona and then caught her in a snare that was so thin.

"That's because you're special. Because you made me drunk from the beginning."

After saying that, Fiona's whole body stiffened. She vaguely remembered the passionate intertwining the night she got drunk and asked to be driven home.

Did she really enjoy that too? Did she really like it so much that Fiona's subconscious had a hard time resisting Leonard?

Leonard didn't need any answers. With gentle movements and light pressure, Leonard pulled Fiona's waist, then leaned down to kiss Fiona's red lips.

***