I apologised to everyone that I was feeling unwell, and would like to have my meal in the room. I have not set foot downstairs, not even half a step. I stand by the window, looking towards the distance, where columns of smoke are rising outside. It makes me think of Enzo boarding a ship to a faraway place. Perhaps, in the smoke outside, his figure is standing on the deck, with the wind blowing, his hair blowing back. Enzo thinks of me as the waves under the boat gradually become unfamiliar. The cold Atlantic water seeps through his skin, like his heart has grown cold.

Suddenly tonight, I am not sleepy at all. My eyes open in confusion, without knowing why. I walk through the empty room that Augustin decorated for our child. He even had someone bring up the harpsichord for me so that I would not have to go up and down the stairs every time I felt like playing. The room is not entirely soundproof, but outside, only a few faint sounds can be heard. I look up at the clock. It is eleven thirty-nine at night, and though it is late, I still want to play a few pieces to relieve my tired body. Now I am of great value to the family; they probably will not blame a pregnant woman who is just trying to clear her mind. Besides, I am sure they will not go to bed until the last bottle of brandy in the house is empty.

I play Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, even though the original name is not that. It is strange that I want to play this piece even though there is no moon or star in the sky outside. I can imagine Enzo standing on the ship's deck, chasing the lofty moon that casts its shadow on the calm sea. I want to become the soft waves, embracing the sleeping ship that he is on. It hurt me deeply to see him leave England, to leave me, but I will be at ease and happy to see him pursue a new life in the United States. The American dream will lead him to pursue his dreams and aspirations. If I had a carrier pigeon right now, I hope these words will find him. That if there is another life, if he still desires me, I will find him, even if it were in the farthest corner of the world. And God please, even in the wildest dream, I would still be the ever-since Fiona Lamstrong, a girl that he once loved.

The applause makes me stop playing the piano immediately. I turn around and see my husband with an unhappy but not-sad expression, and cheeks flushed with alcohol. He staggers to find a place to sit down. I try to stand up to support him as he is about to fall, but Augustin raises his hand to signal me to stay put. He sits down heavily, breathing heavily with thoughts swirling inside. We maintain eye contact like that for a while, until the awkwardness fills the entire room. I stand up, approach him and say, "Let me take you to the room..."

"Play the piano for me, Fiona."

I pause, looking at Augustin with incredulous eyes. My husband has never been someone who enjoys art, nor has he ever made such a request. I decide to ignore my husband's words and plead with him to go back to the room. Only sleep can make my husband forget his troubles. But it seems I misjudged the situation. Now, nothing can make him forget that betrayal.

"Can't you play something for your husband to hear?"

Augustin's innocent-looking eyes, as if he did not know what was going on, make me certain that this game is over. In just one day, I have become too small compared to him. I cannot find any legitimate reason to show my disagreement. Ethics and morality tie me down and make me kneel. I smile faintly and ask, "What do you want to hear?"

"Any piece...," Augustin replies gently. "As long as it's you playing sincerely for me, any piece will be a masterpiece."

How is it that a man who only talks about business and politics can make me feel so weak with just ordinary words? I take a deep breath. My stomach feels a little queasy, as if the baby is kicking. I turn back to the piano and try to find a suitable piece of music for this situation. I want something classical, with a melody that contains a lot of feelings and affection, a piece that my husband wouldn't understand too much.

I decide to play Fur Elise, also by Beethoven. This poor man, famous all over the world, but he never won her heart in his life. There are many debates about who Elise that Beethoven is referring to. Who is the subject of his affection? Things can be complicated and clear to the extent that no one ever thought of. I believe in the hypothesis that there is no Elise in Beethoven's mind. His muse was Theresa, the woman who refused Ludwig's proposal, but also the woman he could never forget. Because, in his time, Elise also meant a lover.

"Tell me... Fiona..."

I stop playing the keys to be able to hear the low and dense voice, now mixed with the heaviness of alcohol. I turn around to look, Augustin is staring at me with a heavy face. I can see those eyes shimmering with tears. I hold my breath to listen to what he will say next. Will he expose me? Will he slap me in the face? I do not know anymore. Suddenly, in this moment, I feel sorry for him.

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"Do you love me? Have you ever loved me during all this time?"

Can I answer his question? Even I myself do not know. Have I loved Augustin, during all this time, do I have any feelings for him? I have been too busy with my desires. Facing Augustin now, I feel like I am standing in the court of justice, condemned by the chaos and violence of faith. I intended to answer his question, but Augustin seems to know that I will continue to lie. He did not plan to stop until I was pushed to the brink:

"You've never loved me, have you?"

"Augustin...", I bow my head down.

"Do you dare to look straight at me and declare that you love me, Fiona? Speak up, do you dare?", Augustin's heavy voice makes me both scared and ashamed.

"You're drunk, Augus..."

Unexpectedly, Augustin steps forward and grabs my chin. He pushes me against the piano tree. I am terrified looking at him, but even more horrified when I see his tearful face. I can feel his pain through that trembling. I try to push him away, but I am not strong enough to do it. Augustin looks at me full of hatred. The gnawing pain has turned him into another person. No, into his true self.

"How could you share a bed with your husband while always thinking about another man? How could you treat me like that?"

I use all my strength to leave his arms, but Augustin is too strong for a pregnant woman like me. Suddenly, my belly hurts intensely, as if the baby also wants to chase away its father. Augustin holds my chin tightly, making me unable to say anything. I look at him with fearful eyes. This is the first time in our time living together that Augustin has hurt me. In a moment, I no longer recognise the man I married. Is it because of him, or have I created this monster?

"Everything you want, I all tried my best to give it to you. Everything you need, I provided it for you. Have I ever let you down? Have I ever treated you badly? Fiona, tell me!"

But how can I speak? He is gripping my chin tightly, and now even breathing is difficult for me. I scratch, claw, punch, and push, but there is nothing that can save me at this moment. I am scared, I am very afraid of Augustin right now. He has turned me into a little girl with only a few years of age and I cry when I see the freaks in the circus for the first time.

"I always try to be a good husband to you. I swear I've never stopped trying to love you, cherish you. But what do I get in return? Fiona, you've never loved me! You don't even want to meet me ever!"

Now I am clear and certain, Augustin has read the unfinished novel I wrote. My tears mix with Augustin's angry tears falling heavily on my face. Both of us are hurt, and although I am very frightened, I cannot blame Augustin for anything. I have no right to blame him because I have ideas that are not loyal and corrode my morality. On the contrary, I blame fate and myself. I curse myself for the bad decisions I have made. The person I press on the keys creates ear-piercing sounds. It seems like I am the ugly note in the harmony of those who care about me.

Finally, Augustin leaves me alone, and I sit on the chair and lean back on the guitar, while he turns his back to me. My body is exhausted, and my mind is dazed. I know the baby is struggling, but then I do not feel anything. I cannot even feel my legs, let alone speak. All the strength in my body suddenly disappears completely. I look up at Augustin, but all I see is his back. The trembling on his body, the intermittent sound full of emotions like a nightmare clinging to me. If this marriage had not happened, we would all be very happy. Augustin, Andermis, Enzo; and I, the woman who has a debt of fate with all three men who love her so deeply.

My husband did say something, but I couldn't hear him. My mind is in chaos. I hear shattering sounds, screams, and the sound of rushing water. I feel the cold enveloping me. A cold that goes deep into my soul. I feel like a shipwrecked sailor lost at sea, struggling in the midst of souls in purgatory. I cannot breathe, and I am about to sink into that violent whirlpool. No one will save me. No one...

Suddenly Augustin's face becomes blurry before me. I see more than just him. I see three "Augustins" all looking at me in panic. I bury my head in his chest, unaware that my entire body is soaked in fresh blood. I hear my husband's heart beating rapidly, as if should I leave him, the door to his heart will open and it will jump out. Augustin picks me up, while I can no longer feel any part of my body. I lie down, looking up at the ceiling with two eyes. The haziness and dizziness in my eyes make the scene suddenly more beautiful and magnificent than ever before. I come from noble blood, but I have never been one of them. And at this very moment, the feeling of an emperor embraces me. I feel like Jane Grey, a martyr queen who reigned for only nine days. Today is her last day of life. Jane Grey was taken to Tower Green and executed in silence. I feel like her. The sound of crashing waves, people's cries, and the sight of blurry eyes through a veil of smoke and water. In that moment of uncertainty, I see Enzo...