Page 37 of The Tyranny of our Longing

“The next pages are badly burnt, with only a few legible lines here and there. It is difficult to tell when one entry ends and another begins, but I suppose I could read on until you have some idea of what was happening.”

“Alright,” she said, pulling the pad open on her lap. He began to read.

Thurs—- —- -0th of October, 1879

——- day he grows more open to me. He spends his time —- ——- ——— - —— - ——— ——— -nd I cannot believe the sheer joy to finally be in his favor. And I find myself doing the same, gravitating to this newfound pull, and I would be embarrassed of all that passes my lips were it not for —- —— —— —- ——- curiosity glinting in his eyes, his own fingers trailing the edges of this marvelous fabric that has become an extension of my being, and so I told him of my dreams. How this ——— ————- - ——— — ——- —- - - — ——- in the darkness, I see the rooms of this house, its walls lined with this pulsating radiance, see our halls stretching with it to labyrinthine lengths, and I feel it ——- ——— —— in tune with my very heart - ——- —— ——- ——- ——

—— ——- he told me there was more, I could barely contain my joy, my heart close to bursting as I buried my face in his warmth —— —— —- ——

I could never imagine —— ———- — - — —- ——— and now, all of it was here. Ours. Mine.

—- —- — ——— he promised to retrieve it, and have the work begin at once, and I cannot wait — ——- ——— — — —— this marvelous color everywhere I go - ——- —— - ——- — ——— - - —- ——- — ——- ———— — ——

There was a beat of silence, and Phaedra glanced up to find Nathaniel watching her, brows raised.

“Yes?” she asked.

“You were murmuring something.”

She stared at him a moment, confused. Had she been?

She tried to feel the trace of her words on her tongue, to catch the sound of their dying echo in her ears, but there was nothing. She looked down at her pad, hoping to reclaim whatever thought had sparked in her mind, but all she had drawn was a light shading with a delicate pattern, almost like⁠—

Wallpaper.

In a flash of clarity, she found she had pulled meaning from the tattered lines of the journal, some vague understanding of how the wallpaper and the fabric had had the same origins. Yet she felt there was something more, something slipping between her fingers, hiding just beyond the borders of her awareness.

“It’s… not important,” she said, not at all certain.

There was a pause, as if he too shared her uncertainty, then Nathaniel asked, “Shall I read on?”

She let out a breath, straightening in her seat. She knew she needed to focus, while also knowing that it would prove increasingly difficult, her body already portraying signs that it was nearing some limit it would be unwise to cross. Yet they needed to go on. She needed to know more so she might continue her work, because this was not enough.

Warily, she gave a nod.

——— —- —- - ————- -——

———— —— - —— much to be done, I can already feel myself immersed in joy. I feel as if I am floating in a warm embrace, this wondrous sight greeting me more and ——-— ——- ——— ——- -

—- - ——- —— ——- —- —— cold where it is absent. Yet he assures me that I must merely be patient, for in the end — —- — ——

—- — ——- ———- —- —— - and I cannot help but feel this beauty bringing us together, the way he speaks and consoles, the way he lingers within my presence, his touch a soothing balm wherever it lands, and I no longer know if —— —— ——— —- ——— ——— ———— ——

—- — ——- —— ———-

—- —- ——— ——— —- I feel she does not approve — ——- ——- ————- —- ——— ——- —- - —— catch glimpses of her watching and it makes me shudder — ———- ——- —- ——— — that she would deny me his attention - —— —- —— disturb every moment alone - - ——- —- ——- —— —- - —- ——— - he cannot even reach for —- ——— ——— ——— ——- — —— - ——— ——— —- —— - -

A seed of tremulous foreboding began to germinate, its burrowing roots shooting out in all directions. Phaedra stared at her sketch, at the grasping hand that was as of yet holding only emptiness. Emptiness she knew would soon evolve into something she was not ready to face.

But surely, it could not be right. Surely, she must be mistaken.

Perhaps she had been mistaken all this time. About everything she thought she understood, everything she believed she knew. Perhaps⁠—

“… you need more?”

She jerked at the sound of Nathaniel’s voice, the interruption—completion—of her thoughts jarring.

“The next one seems somewhat better preserved.”