Love Is Not A Fiction

For about three months now, I have hardly left the bedroom. More precisely, from a small room next to the kitchen, which was previously used by the servants. There were several such rooms in the house, and most of them were now empty. There was no room for me in the dormitory that I used to share with my sisters. With Loya and Heli, my younger sisters, we were now separated not only by age. My parents moved me away from the girls so that "not to set a bad example for my sisters and not to frighten them," as my father said then. This decision was spontaneous, based on emotions, and after that dad even apologized and offered to come back, but I did not dare. I was too worried about everything, and I didn’t want the girls to worry because of me.

In addition to the words about the bad example, I had to hear a lot more. Mostly extremely sharp and unfair, but even this was not the most unbearable. It seemed to me that now I was hated and despised by everyone, or almost everyone. My father, my fiancé, or rather, the former fiancé, his parents, who are also part-time partners of the pope in business, and also every caring city dweller who considers it his duty to procrastinate vile news every day, seasoning it with new details. In the opinion of honorable citizens, it was I who tarnished the good name of the family and brought filth and discord to our house and to the house of an honest and respected groom. And it was necessary for this to happen, arranged this right on the eve of the engagement. Slutty girl, - they whispered in the back, and without even looking, I imagined how their faces twisted.

Hypocrites.

That life that was before seemed to me now nothing but a bright, warm dream. Now I was as if in darkness and wished that she would let me go, because there was no strength left to fight. And what could I? The process was started and there was no stopping it. It was useless to prove anything. It only remained to wait for a new reason for gossip to arise that could divert attention from me.

It doesn't matter how it happened or under what circumstances. Nobody needed excuses. Especially given that the one who did this nasty trick with me is higher than our family in status and ten times richer. I'm sure I'm just one of many on his list of lucky ones he decides to play a prank on in this or that way. Destroyer of fates, f*ck him!

And I'm good, do not say anything. She turned up under the arm of a psycho and ruined the life of not only herself, but also her family. Although it was not talked about openly, I recently overheard the gardener talking to the cook. Things are going very badly at my father's firm. My fiancé's parents want to break off all relations with my family, including business ones, turning everything around so that we are left with nothing. Personal insult, yes. And so that the reputation of one of the best furniture factories in the city does not suffer.

And just as it began to seem to me that it simply couldn’t get any worse, something happened that made me desperately want to scream and cry. Which I did, burying my head in the pillow so that no one would hear how I was going crazy from impotence and injustice.

***

A short knock on the door made me jump. The flame of the candle swung, drawing terrible moving shadows on the walls. I did not turn on the overhead light, getting ready for bed, and then I got carried away reading and did not notice how completely dark it was.

Was the father drunk again? Previously, this almost never happened, but because of everything that fell upon our family, he began to break down. He mostly drank at night, when the house was plunged into darkness, and thoughts and sorrows were especially strong. I shuddered involuntarily, imagining yet another scandal. Gossip, newspapers, even photography... This has been harassing us so far. Someone deliberately fomented the conflict, provoked the nerves, did not let people forget. The hype was only now gradually beginning to subside, and for this the parents had to make a lot of efforts. And I'm partly to blame myself. Was at the wrong time, in the wrong place. And this guilt ate at my heart.

The knock w