The day that Calais asked for my entire day, it didn't happen. After the meal and the brief visit to his small farm, I requested to return to my bedroom by reasoning that I was exhausted.
And now, in the afternoon, after the lunch that he also prepared, Calais sits in front of the piano, playing a melody that I am familiar with. It is the same piece that I practiced with him, that same day that it was raining hard and we decided to stay in the piano room, where we shared intimacies instead. That was the day when I was testing his love for me. Unfortunately, he failed the test miserably.
He might have thought that this would remind me of my love for him, but unfortunately, it is bringing up the opposite emotion in me.
"Do you remember this piece?" Calais asks, his fingers gliding gracefully over the keys.
I grit my teeth, trying not to let the memories overwhelm me. "Yes," I answer as curtly as possible.
