"I proposed to seven Palom."
The wind was stale. It wailed in the dark space like a wandering owl, flapped its wings, freeing the sky. Silence poured in, as did Harold's saliva in shock shared by the elderly woman, who was speechless after her grandson made his final pronouncement.
"What... what did you say?"
All eyes were fixed on Louie's back in surprise as he sighed deeply, finally turning to reveal the impassive look on his face.
"I proposed to Sigin Palom in Ilgan, and I renewed my proposal tonight. But she demanded that I do it formally, which I couldn't do because I thought you should know first."
"How generous you are!" his grandmother commented indignantly. She couldn't believe what he had actually said or done behind her back. She didn't want to believe it. "It's Sigin Palom we're talking about here! The one everyone's talking about! The corrupt Palom descendant. Does she realize what she's doing?"
"Gran, I love her!"
"You're not allowed to love her!"
Things were tense. Harold stayed in his council, sensing the heat and the demons of anger licking the embers between grandmother and her grandson with all the malice stirred by the fierce winds of rebellion that the stern Englishwoman didn't like.
After all I've done for you, after all I've done to secure a good future for you. You waste all that on the cheap sentiment of a woman like that. What about Hazel, Louie?"
"She's a little girl, Grandma. She has dreams and ambitions. Her mother should be taking care of that instead of finding her the perfect husband!" Louis rushed in, nervous and heart pounding, as his grandmother waved her hand away in protest .
What a load of nonsense you're saying! What do girls know about dreams and ambitions?
Their eyes met in anger. She wasn't convinced, and he didn't like her beliefs. Louie rubbed his forehead, feeling his body heat up with the raging flames of his anger, as he calmed his voice. "I'm in love with Sigin, Grandma. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"
The woman stiffened in protest. Struggling to soften her resolve under his expectant, softening gaze, she grimaced harshly. "I'm not against you falling in love, Louie. But Sigin Palom isn't the woman you should be falling in love with."
"Why?"
"Can't you hear what's being said? Can't you see what she's doing? Take tonight, for example... you in that very feminine, eye-catching dress, with your hair down like a teenager. She doesn't even respect her husband who died a month ago! How do you expect her to treat you?"
"What do you expect her to do? Shut herself up and cry for years? She's only 26!" He couldn't hold back his argumentative voice from rising sarcastic, and it bounced back onto his grandmother's face, who snapped. "She's older than you!"
Two years! What could be wrong with that?"
His grandmother blinked harshly at his sharp statement. Harold followed the raging argument with all his attention until the woman exhaled heavily, punctuated by the irritated and angry breaths that had settled in her throat .
"You don't know what's been said about her and her family for years, Louie!
You were both young. You didn't see her father suddenly move in next door with a creepy little girl in his arms who no one could possibly like. I've heard about how many nannies couldn't stand to look after her for more than a month and then leave without giving any particular reason, except that the house was hideous. Even when her mother suddenly showed up, we didn't know where she was during the two years Palom stayed here with his daughter. She was an unlovable woman with a strange behavior that that cold-blooded, snarky blonde inherited. Her father was known for his temper, and the Palom family was known for many hideous traits, which were only averted by their profitable business in the market. It was said that intermarriage through the generations had given them a kind of hereditary madness. Did you know that it was also said that they worshipped the devil?"
The intensity of the situation and the burning conversation were broken by Harold and Louis' laughter, neither of them able to hold back the last denunciatory remark the lady made with emotion and extreme seriousness.
"This is no joke! They're a suspicious and dubious family. I can never allow my family name to be associated with them. This is non-negotiable. You will never meet this woman again, Louis. And you will cut off all contact with her, and if you happen to see her, you will not even look at her."
Louis took a deep breath, dispelling the remnants of his worried laughter and looked calmly at his grandmother. "I can't promise you that, Grandma."
She didn't seem satisfied with his answer, but she didn't attack him with a sharp statement that might further fuel the fires of that difficult night as she stood up, leaning on her cane, muttering indignantly, "One is in love with a dissolute widow, and the other is infatuated with a woman we know nothing about!"
"At least I know she doesn't worship the Devil." Harold sneered, returning a smile with Louis, who stifled a chuckle at the resolutely reproachful look directed at his friend. "Harold Edward Sigrid, it's not polite to make fun of other people's talk!"
Harold bit back a laugh and snorted gently. "Sorry, Mrs. Legrent."
The past situation, which hadn't reached a decisive point but had come to a halt at an intersection where both sides stuck to their decision, had barely settled. The lady shook her head sadly as she made her way out. "Young men these days."
They watched the lady's shadow disappear around the high turn of the stairs. Louie shattered the cool air with a heavy sigh, turning to the fireplace where they shared a heart's fire, eager and angry as he listened to Harold's lighter gently flicking his cigarette.
"Glad you took my advice after all," Harold declared after a moment, picking up the glass of wine he had poured again and heading over to his friend, who kissed him, pursed lips in argument
Perhaps that was what he feared and prevented him from telling Harold the truth, because he would think that he had taken his advice and was only marrying her to pay off his debts. No one would really understand.
"I didn't ask Sigin Palom to marry me to pay off my debts with her money. I did it because I really want to marry her." Louis shook his head in disappointment, before his eyes slid down to his companion's blazing emeralds, looking at them sincerely. "I love her, Harold."
He didn't know how. He didn't know when. He didn't know why. But he had become attached to her like a little child in a few days, capturing his heart and mind. Perhaps she would never understand, perhaps she would see him like any other man who had tried to woo her, but he could prove that he was the complete opposite
Harold's eyes fell on a lake of warmth and stillness. He puffed at his tobacco as he watched the fireplace tongues clatter against the wood with a dull ache that overwhelmed his senses. He muttered, "We're worthless in your grandmother's eyes now, and we're both in love."
"You're not in love." Louis sneered in surprise, a small smile crossing his lips as he reminisced, recalling his memory, his heart pounding with weak passion .
"I think I did."
With a gentle, soft touch, the night brush stroked the sky with a sunset about to descend, a pink gown draped with scarlet clouds laden with a sadness that had colonized hearts. Maybe for days, maybe for weeks.
The smell of alcohol wafted from every corner of that narrow tavern. With the absence of sunlight, oil lamps dimly illuminated the place, crowded with wooden tables occupied by men chatting together, far from his own world.
He wasn't the type to change his habits in protest. But with his desire to please his grandmother and the urges of his heart to go directly to Palom's house and propose to the blonde, he had to escape
So there he was sitting in that cheap tavern, drinking wine that was nothing like the fine wine he was used to. He stared blankly at the cracks in the window. Two tables away, Harold was playing cards with some men with pleasure.
He was once living his friend's wild life. From the upscale cafes and bars of Paris to a simple English pub. His mood had clearly declined, but at least in that place, his ever-increasing problems didn't catch up to him.
There was nothing he could do anymore.
He put down the almost empty glass of wine and stood up with extreme laziness, walking towards Harold and muttering to him that he was leaving. He didn't give in to his friend's urgings to stay, as he had been keeping his senses from getting drunk well up until that point
The night enveloped him in monotony, with sad winds and silence that accompanied him all the way through the cold streets of London, overwhelmed by floods of resentful feelings that he could not escape .
He had always imagined himself having a tragic love story hampered by big, raw problems and turbulent emotions, but now he was in a situation he didn't dare call a tragic love story.
It was more like an unrequited love. Not a single man separated them, but all the people, their conversations, their judgments, everything that stood in his way for a blonde he had fallen in love with at first sight and didn't even know it. Even her.
The echo of his footsteps could be heard on the ceiling of the English Quarter. He looked up at his lit house, watching his grandmother who sat by the window, knitting her wool with concentration, and sighed at them. She had been talking to him out of necessity since that night, and he hadn't found anything to talk to her about.
The mortgage term kept decreasing, and there was nothing that could prevent Zain Haroun from throwing him out into the street. He was in a hopeless state he had never imagined himself in. He didn't want to go inside. He wanted to talk
His ears strained at a soft, almost whispering movement from behind him, causing him to turn around, feeling a waterfall of emotions slapping him in the face as he faced Palom's house. She was sitting in the well-groomed garden, painting under the cover of night... just as he had seen her do on previous evenings.
He didn't hesitate for a moment to advance toward her. He was far from caring about anything that would be said or any rebuke that would be made. His teeming heart was at the mercy of his own, which floundered as he stood in the middle of the garden, looking at her back with a concerned look.
"Good evening."
He could see her body rise in surprise as she turned to look at him in surprise, which was quickly dispelled by a gentle frown as she turned her attention back to her painting. "You're late."
"What?"
She sighed, putting her brush and paints aside before turning to meet his uncomprehending gaze, aiming her mischievous eyes questioningly. "You said you didn't give up quickly, and yet I haven't seen you since the night of the party. You almost disappointed me."
A small smile broke the sullenness of his face. He was glad he was finally understanding her ambiguity without her having to explain it to him. He was melting into her, and she was enjoying it.
"I knew I'd come." It was more of an admission than a question, but she nodded, confirming his statement with a dismissive smile. "Of course I did, even though you look absolutely miserable. What happened to you?" she sneered, giving him a raised eyebrow in confusion
He had already had some hard days, which he attributed to not being used to the heavy burdens of the city. For the first time, he was the one in charge of important matters... and he didn't know if he deserved it or not.
"Albert said you make good coffee. Would you mind if I had a cup? I promise not to say anything you wouldn't like." He looked at her demandingly. He needed company, and she read that clearly.
She smiled as she stood up on her heels, her clothes stained with touches of color that only enhanced her beauty, and suddenly linked her arm with his, to his surprise. "Nothing you say pleases me, and yet I find myself enjoying it."
This time, he smiled sincerely, letting herself be led inside. She didn't push him away, didn't refuse his shy request to talk to her despite everything. Instead, she welcomed him with open arms and a wide smile. She made him fall deeper and deeper into her every time he saw her.
Entering her empty and quiet house was a special feeling for him. It was as if he were entering her lair, welcomed by the nectar of jasmine intertwined with the scent of colors mixed with the fragrance of solitude and calm. It was her world, and it was warm .
He leaned on the balcony railing that opened onto the spacious living room. The moonlight overcame the illuminating lamps, pampering his still blue eyes with a lifeless sea.
She didn't leave him alone for long. She returned a short time later with the two cups of coffee without changing her stained clothes, as if she didn't want to be late, as if she wanted to listen to him.
He took the cup from her gratefully, and she leaned beside him, letting the breeze play with her while she looked at him with a serious, questioning look. "So what's going on with you?"
He didn't know what to say. He needed to talk, but he didn't know he would have to. He sighed, arranging his sentences slowly. "When you came back from France, did you feel like you didn't belong here anymore?"
He knew what he'd said wasn't very clear, but she nodded in understanding. "Yes. I was only there for a few months, but it was hard to adjust to the ways of life again, let alone five years away from home."
"It's just that I almost forgot how people think here. In France, it was different. You could live your life freely without others interfering. But here, you have to think about the gossip before making a decision in your own life." He denounced, making her smile small.
"You're the one who decides how you live your life, not others. People only see one side of the coin." He kissed his lips silently as he watched her sip her coffee calmly, its green lips glinting against the distant moon.
"...just like you."
"What do you mean?" He frowned, not understanding her last sentence, and her mouth widened as she left the empty cup on the wide railing and turned to meet his eyes again .
"You asked me to marry you before you knew anything about me. You said you loved me and you've only seen what I wanted you to see. What if you don't like my other side?"
He was distracted by her shining eyes. He felt the storms in his head calm as he brought their hands together ever so gently. "I'd love every other side of you."
"Don't be so sure." Her gaze seemed steady, almost smiling with a bitter sarcasm that she turned as she threw her head forward, keeping the spark of their soft fingers meeting. She reminds me of the fourth man I married. He used to be a flirt to win my favor, and the rhythm of my heart, he claimed.
His lips curled in annoyance and he pulled his hand away from hers, giving him a puzzled, sideways glance. "I don't like hearing you talk about one of your husbands."
A thin smile played across her lips, narrowing the distance between them to warmly caress his heat. His hand gently touched hers, sending shivers down his spine as he tilted his head to meet hers again. "Are you jealous?"
How short the space between them was.
"I'm angry, though. They found you before I did." He whispered. They were in the same passionate position again, his heart beating for hers.
"And she found me?"
"I think I did."
They kept their voices low, as did their hands. Minutes of silence punctuated by the singing of a nightingale that fluttered high above, before he broke his face with a soft laugh, which dispersed her. "I'm terrible at poetry."
His thinking was poetic, but he couldn't translate it into actions and words. He felt like an idiot. His smile was mirrored on her lips in turn, and she rested her other hand in comfort .
"That's strange. You were in Paris, the city of love, for five years and you couldn't be more poetic? No wonder you didn't come back with a woman."
"I'm grateful. Any woman I met there would never have been like you."
Her smile didn't diminish at the dreamy gaze that stole his eyes. She placed her face perfectly in his until their lips touched on a path that was almost destroyed by the slightest movement either of them dared to interrupt, and she remained. "What a curse it is for a dreamy heart like yours to be captivated by a woman like me."
"I didn't think of it that way." He shook his head slightly, stealing a glance at her smiling lips. It is surely a blessing to be captivated by a woman like you, Mrs. Palom.
"My name is seven ."
She had no idea what to do with him. He stared blankly into her enigmatic eyes and calmed down, before his gaze slowly lowered to lie boldly on her lips, without suppressing the desire that made his heart leap with joy.
"May I?" he whispered to her ecstasies, ready to cut everything that stood between them with passion and passion. She remained silent for a period that felt like an eternity before her smile rose with maneuver.
" No "
He blinked at her sudden departure and smiled at her beloved vessel. He sipped the rest of his cold coffee before turning to face her. She was sitting on one of the seats with confidence, looking at him coquettishly. She was enjoying his tricks and seeing his passion for her in his eyes. There was no doubt about it.
"Where is Simon? I haven't seen him in a while."
He leaned against the railing, looking at her with the remnants of a smile that hadn't faded, until she sighed, her shoulders dancing lightly. "In the country, he handles some of the business there. There's just us here."
God, how he was struck by her boundless audacity
"Then I should go." His smile reappeared, and she returned it quietly as he leaned forward, kissing her hand as softly as her eyes that watched him unwaveringly.
"Good night, Saqin."
He may not have believed in love at first sight before... but he was now infatuated with it.
The sky was clear, as if its clouds had dissipated, like his sorrows. His dreamy smile did not fade from his lips as he closed the door behind him, sailing with every warm feeling he had felt in a short time, but one that was enough to strip him of all his worries.
"Louis." He stopped on the first step at his grandmother's stiff call. He closed his eyes with a sigh and walked over to the desk where the lady sat with a frown. He responded in kind, and she held out a letter that had already been opened
"Baron Lawrence sent you this today," she informed him listlessly.
He put the letter in his pocket, not feeling up to reading it, and looked at her monotonously. "What does it say?"
She didn't reply, so he faced her surprised looks wearily. "I know you've read it, Grandma. So please tell me what he wants, because I don't have the energy to discuss anything."
The lady pursed her lips gently and knitted her brows together, sniffling. "He says he's sent for his friend the iron expert and is awaiting your final answer to set a time for the two of you to meet."
He nodded knowingly and withdrew silently to his room. His bed welcomed him like a rose welcomes its bees, with all its generosity and openness. He barely managed to calm his mind and recall the pounding of his abyss.
At least he would have a peaceful, quiet night for the first time in a while .
It was barely half past six in the evening.
Seven Palom remained in her sitting room for a while, which she hadn't considered distracted by her unique kingdom, far from that sad reality, until the maid interrupted her thoughts, reporting the sudden, unannounced arrival of the publisher Arthur Nicholas.
She was surprised; this was a first for him.
She straightened her dirty dress and eagerly headed to greet him at the door of the house, which he had closed after entering uninvited. He was smiling suspiciously, which she did not miss, so she prepared herself carefully.
"What is the occasion of this unexpected visit of yours, Arthur?" She did not invite him to sit. She glanced at him with glassy eyes, which he met with a broad smile as he discarded his hat and coat. "I was passing by, and I thought I'd say hello. Won't you invite me in for a glass of wine?"
She glared up and down at him before shaking her head with the ghost of a faint smile, guiding him into the living room, uneasy at his sudden presence and worried about whatever he was up to.
Slowly, she moved toward the small bar, reluctantly picking up one of the bottles of white wine and two glasses. No sooner had she let the ice sink amid the bubbles than she stiffened with an arm he possessed, his hot breath caressing her neck like fire.
"Get away from me, Arthur," she ordered harshly, despite her heart pounding in panic as she felt his lips violate the corner of her neck, paying no attention to her protests or attempts at escape
"Aren't you thinking of taking our relationship to a deeper level, Sikin?" he muttered. His lustful tone sent shivers down her spine, sending a chronic tremor through her veins that almost made her tremble with weakness, even if she fought it .
She feared his intention. She feared the audacity he imposed on her, and he didn't back down after her decisive statement. Like someone drowning in a lake of misery, she was attacked by hideous memories that made her blink and push him away with all her strength.
"What's wrong with you?" the publisher denounced in front of her agitated face and angry red eyes. "As if it were the first time I'd kissed you!"
"True. But I said no!" she admitted sternly, trying to regulate her breathing that had rushed like a fast train. The harsh pounding of her heart almost drowned out every other sound around her as she received a mocking, sarcastic look from the man in front of her.
"And since when has there been a 'no'? And since when have you refused any man's touch? You are nothing but a woman who has abandoned herself to the whims of others. You have no right to say 'no'!"
"Even if I were a girl of the night... no means no!"
Her breaths rumbled with her screams. Every cell in her trembled like demonstrators in Revolution Square. She swallowed her saliva tremblingly and pointed to the door with a rough, agitated look. "Get out of my house now!"
His eyes burned with hatred as he glared at her with a look that wasn't new to her, even though it hurt like every time she received it. A look of contempt and malice that no one had the right to inflict on her. He gathered what remained of his dignity and left her to fight the demons that had awakened in a hell whose door he had cunningly closed.
She pushed away the tears of anger that had gathered at the corners of her eyes and looked at her violently trembling hands, which explained to her what was almost reaching its peak inside her. Fires ignited in her chest, leaving her wandering in the depths of memories that had departed from her... but remained imprisoned forever.
The harsh crash of wine bottles suddenly rang out in the sky .