How long will I run away from myself?
“I am here now!” Edward looked up, watching Rosalina walk into the dining room, still her extremely bright self.
She sat down comfortably as the maids served them, leaving them alone in the dining room. Edward did wish to talk to Rosalina, but he was already filled with sorrow and unable to realize the cause of it. It almost felt as if something in his life was going terribly wrong, and he had no control over it. They continued eating in silence for a little longer, Edward still lost in thought when Rosalina put her fork down loud enough for Edward to turn and look at her.
“Is everything alright?”
“That is something I should be asking you,” she said meaningfully, looking him straight in the eye.
“Everything is perfect.”
“Lies,” she said, turning her chair completely. “Now try again.”
“I do not know what you mean, Rosalina.”
“Edward, I am done playing around trying to talk to you. So now, I will ask you one simple question and expect one simple answer. Do you understand?”
He nodded.
“Are you in love with Ophelia?”
Edward was stunned. He had expected Rosalina to ask several questions, but this was certainly not one of them, especially since he did not even know the answer to it himself. What he felt for Ophelia was both foreign and unexplainable, something he had never felt before, but he did not know if it could be called love.
Or perhaps he was simply in denial.
“I …” He could not form words. “I do not know.”
“From what I can see, you are completely in love with her and simply refusing to both understand and accept it. You have not been yourself since she has left. You are upset and easily irritable, as if something important and meaningful is missing from your life. What else is this if not love?”
“Rosalina,” he sighed, pushing away his plate, “I do not know what to say.”
She stood up in frustration. “I want you to tell me the truth and nothing else. Do you feel something when you look at her?”
“I do.” He ran a hand through his hair, feeling cornered.
“Do you wish to converse with her, spend time with her?”
“I do.”
“Then tell me, Edward, what is this if not love? You do not seem yourself, and your life completely refuses to make sense in her absence. What is this if not love?” Rosalina was shouting now, both of them worked up.
“Yes, yes, I love her!” Edward shouted back. “Happy? Yes, I do love her. I have never loved anyone or anything more than I love her, and I have no clue what to do about it. I do not know how to let go of it. I just don’t.”
He kept his head on the table, a weight lifted off his chest.
He did love Ophelia. No matter how much he tried to run away from it.
“So why have you not told her yet?” she asked, sitting back down.
“I am not a good man, Rosalina,” Edward said, looking at her, “I have no right to love and no claim over happiness. I killed my sister. How could I live peacefully and happily after committing such a crime?”
Tears stung his eyes at the thought, but he forced himself to stay in control.
“What do you mean?” Rosalina appeared horrified. “How can you blame yourself for Margaret’s death?”
“Who else is to blame, Rosalina?”
“Anyone but you, Edward!” She was beginning to appear angry again, “You were there with her from the beginning till the end. You were the one who held her when she was sobbing with pain while her useless husband was absent. You were the one who went to look for a physician in the middle of the most terrible storm when she could not give birth with the help of the midwife. You were the one who held her hand while she gave birth and the one who held her while she could not continue to live any longer. You only tried your best to save her!”
