We were 15 and in the same class when I saw her for the first time.
"Fausse Vanya."
"Here.." She was quiet, extremely quiet.
"Rue Helt."
"Here!" I announced.
She wasn't particularly beautiful, or intelligent, or strong. Her large glasses were always so wonky, her hair was stiff-straight, and her body looked so fragile, that even by the smallest touch would break her.
She was like a doll-piece, someone who was meant to marry purely out of political interests. No man saw her for who she was, I could see through them so easily.
Even if years passed, all of them were the same, not one was original in their thoughts. It was all the same, no matter their approach. They were so revoltingly predictable.
Their intentions were obvious, it was plastered all over them, from their large movements, down to the small minute details in their eyes. It was written so plainly on them, like a big sign with a list of all their schemes.
But why? How was I able to discern their desires, and objectives so easily? It wasn't because I was observant, or that I was extremely aware of my surroundings. I had none of that, it was all because I had those very same intentions.
Her name was Fausse Vanya, a high-ranking noble's daughter, and that very person held a bountiful amount of power at his disposal. It was second to none, however my family was equal to their own. If I married Fausse, there'd be no other family capable of bringing us down.
And that's why everyone, including I, had those desires. It was for power, 'if not power, why would we go for you?' Is what most said, some tried to hide it. But, when they were rejected, they all eventually let what they hid so deeply inside their soul out. It was pitiful, and I knew I was just as pitiful as them.
Even within my own mind, I had thought of some disgusting things that I'd bash myself for. 'Why does she reject them even though she has no redeeming qualities', 'If I was her, I'd want to be accepted by anyone.' or 'If I was her, I wouldn't even want to look at myself.'
Eventually I had also gone up to her, we had many conversations, and at the time I felt like I was one of them, and I was. It probably looked like my intentions were being read out loud. But the difference was that, she agreed to marry me. Why?
In the moment, I would've easily thought, 'why are men so obvious?' or 'Another putrid man.' I would've rejected myself too, but she agreed.
"I love you." I said with a smile.
It was a lie. A black lie. I had only said it for my benefit, to become a powerful figurehead in the future. Someone with as much power was definitely someone I needed, regardless of their beauty or intelligence.
"I love you." She said, reciprocating a smile just as similar to mine.
I said what I had to say, and when she said it back, I couldn't tell what she was thinking. Was it real? Was it fake? Did she only say it for my sake?
The news spread throughout the noble families, even a party was prepared to celebrate our upcoming wedding. 'Congratulations!', 'I wish you two the best!', 'You two look so good together!' It was common courtesy to compliment the main stars of the event, even if they didn't actually mean it.
I didn't care either, it was so easy to read them. Their hugs felt fake, and the small wrinkles whenever they smiled, was so clear and obvious. And of course, as Fausse and I were the main focus, we naturally stayed together.
Hand in hand. 'Inseparable' as people would call it.
After the party, day after day, if we encountered each other in the halls, or were about to leave for business, we'd both say the magical words, 'I love you'. After all I didn't want it to feel awkward between us even if I wanted her to be a doll-piece.
In my head, I hoped she'd think that too, 'to not be a burden', 'to use me as much as she wanted too.'
But, each time I recalled a time we said those special words that kept our relationship together, I could remember every detail of her. Every detail, even the most miniscule movements in the fingers. Despite that, I still couldn't read what she was thinking, not one bit.
Even though everyone's intentions, goals, and thoughts were so recognizably apparent to me. Hers wasn't, the black lie that always left my lips, soon engulfed me in it.
Soon enough, I didn't even know if what I was saying was a lie anymore. Days, weeks, months passed and I couldn't even read others like I did before. Their expressions felt oddly vague and weird to me. Their movements were indifferentiable, and the things I could discern so easily, like the small wrinkles of their eyes was so much more difficult now.
It was like a sword piercing my heart. I had realised that, back then, it was because I was observant, and that I was extremely aware of my surroundings. Then were my feelings for her really not what I thought?
No, they still were, it was just that my intentions overshadowed how engrossed I was by her, that I was stupidly conscious of everything around her.
So, then were her 'lies' lies? Or were they real? I couldn't tell, for the past 4 years, we continued to say the words like it was nothing. Even during work hours, I said them. Even during break times, she said them as well.
I had said it so many times that I felt something within me swell up, burning me. I couldn't think straight anymore, work that I completed so easily soon piled on my desks like towers, and sleeping slowly became a problem.
Everything she did stood out, and everything else merely became a blur to me. And every memory I had from that day was just of her and I spending time. I didn't know if she liked my company, or if my hair was combed properly, or if my suit was fit for me anymore.
Everything became a mess to me, during spars with others, I was sloppy and I could only think of her. I couldn't even remember names of others besides my own and hers. 'Fausse and Rue'. Her name, and mine.
Fausse.
Fausse.
Fausse. Fausse. Fausse. Fausse.
Her sleek and delicate purple hair, her light purple eyes framed by her long lashes hidden behind her cylindrical glasses. Her slender, slightly upturned nose and lips coloured in a soft natural-pink hue.
Bright, porcelain-like skin, and whenever she smiled, her lips slight curve, and her light cheeks which brimmed a soft pink. She radiated within my dark hazel eyes, I was completely mesmerised by her.
She was an angel; ethereal compared to my mortal self.
I did everything to make her like me, to not have to say anymore lies. It was to the point that I even had the maids to teach me how to cook, I helped her with her work, I cooked breakfast, lunch and dinner, I worked on myself more than I had done ever.
Wearing things to make her look toward my direction, to where I wanted her to compliment my hair, my clothes, and even my smiles.
I wanted her to love me genuinely, I wanted the political marriage that we had to not be political anymore. I wanted her to smile at me like it was her first time ever. I tried my best to do everything, my surroundings weren't blurry but felt vibrant.
Things that were dull and plain appeared to look as if it was the first time I had seen it. Trees that were dark and sullen before were now healthy green and flowing through the comfy breeze.
Whenever she was around, I felt warm and euphoric. We birthed a son, we both took care of him, feeding him, reading stories to each other as he'd fall asleep, cooking, working. We were inseparable.
Every night we'd dance, it'd start off with only a few minutes, I was a complete beginner, unable to get things right at all. Stepping on her feet and always falling, she'd do the same back, and we'd laugh it off.
I worked my ass off. Dancing, falling, dancing, and falling again, and dancing, and falling again. It was till I got so good that I never fell, or stepped on her feet again. We uttered to each other those very same words that we used to call 'lies'.
It was also when I found out hers wasn't particularly the same as my lie. Hers was a white lie. Nevertheless, it didn't matter anymore.
"I love you." She whispered.
"I love you." I exchanged.
We danced endlessly, minutes per day were now hours passed midnight. Our legs never broke out on us, nor did we feel fatigued. The moonlight shined on us, like we were the spotlight, like we were the only ones in the entire world.
All we ever said in those nights were the words, 'I love you.' Even if countless arrows struck me, I would say the same words again and again till my very last breath. 'I love you.'
Our child, our dear Lione, had already grown to 15, and he was maturing better than I ever was at 15. The maids would surely help him, I thought. I neglected him because of that thought.
"I've never even loved you, Rue. It was all just a white lie, so that you wouldn't look so pathetic every day."
And soon, it was because of that, that she and I grew distant, is what I thought too. It was because I had neglected him right? I even bonded with our son quickly to help our relationship, but she still felt so far from my reach.
Like she was just a touch away from my fingers. I tried so very hard, to do everything in my power to just hug her again. But in every memory, it felt like I hadn't seen her. It was like she was gone. The world crashed upon me, or rather it left me.
She went to sleep in another room, cooking which was just for us was now only one, working together in the study was now vacant to only 1 as well.
Did I not love her enough? Was it all a façade? A lie? Was it all a white lie? I was consumed by despair, the halls felt empty, the bedroom was gloomy and dark, the study was filthy and rotten, the skies and the environment felt distorted and cold.
The sense of touch grew numb to me.
Food that came out fresh and warm only felt unappetizing to my taste.
What did she look like again? Forgetting only jammed a dagger in my heart.
When did I see her again? Another stabbed into my heart.
What was her name again-
I opened the doors to her chambers, and there she was, lying on her bed. A slow turn, her wrinkled self only made me drop to her bedside. I clutched her cold fingers within my own.
The wet tears that slid down my face were constant, and my heart throbbed a million times a second.
Bit by bit, little by little, she made a small smile to me.
"I.. love.. you.." She mumbled quietly.
"I love you.. I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you!" The tears kept sliding down my face. Even as I tried to wipe them, she gently grabbed my hand.
"Please.. Please.. Please don't leave me! Please don't die! I love you! I love you! You know that Fausse! It's my fault! All my fault! I should've helped you, I should've been there regardless!" I wailed in frustration. The words that I said were probably incoherent to anyone but her.
"It's.. okay." She mumbled, if only I had known, if only I had done everything in my power to help her. Her dying purple eyes that still shined so vibrantly. And her wrinkles that made her only more beautiful to me.
"Wait.. for me.. Okay? Let's dance.. once more tonight. Till the sun.. comes up." She uttered, my lips trembled, before turning into a smile.
"Pro.. promise..?"
"Promise.." She held my hand tighter than before, "I love you.. Rue." A small tear fell from her delicate and gorgeous face.
"I love you, Fausse. Till the day that I die."
"I will"
"Forever and always"
"Love you." The tightness I felt so vividly, slowly, but surely, faded.
At the age of 37, she, my world, had passed on. I was told she had secretly been trying to find someone who could cure her, a disease, that was unexplainable. Corneal Lymphfyds, a disease that only permanently blinded someone because of pure Aether clumping the cornea.
However it somehow affected her heart and thus, her physical body aged rapidly and her heart weakened.
I danced, through stormy nights, artic winters, blistering summers, and day through midnight. I danced. In my mind, and in my heart, she had been dancing with me all this time. For 40 years straight, we had danced our hearts off.
It all started with my black lie, and her white lie.
I love you.