I lie on the lush green grass, still damp with morning dew, my head resting on his thigh. I gaze up at the blue sky, with wispy clouds drifting lazily, as if not in a hurry to find a new direction but observing us instead. I count each cloud, while Enzo concentrates on sketching something. I sit up, taking off my fur hat and observe him. From this angle, Enzo looks truly beautiful and sometimes even surreal. I cannot resist the urge to touch his face with my hand. Enzo looks at me for a moment, then tilts his head to rub against my hand like Lady Satine - a beautiful name that Diana gave to our cat whenever she felt happy and spoiled.

A love story built in an old-fashioned style, where a young lady falls for a man without status. I may have many premonitions about a traditional ending, but my heart still loves and beats strongly for him. My family values him greatly, in fact, Enzo has lived almost his entire life with our family, and even the intimacy boundary has blurred. However, sometimes I still wish he had a higher noble position, or at least equal to mine. If that were the case, everything would be much easier. And we would not need secret rendezvous or hastily written letters hidden in books.

I glance at the sketchpad on his lap. I know Enzo is drawing a picture of us and the scenery, but I still want to ask because I want to hear his answer.

"What are you drawing?" I ask.

"You and me," Enzo smiles softly. I can say that his smile is the most beautiful and radiant. "I want our moments together to never fade away."

Oh Enzo! My heart is constricted with happiness upon hearing those words. It sounds like a tragic story full of romance, and the two of us are the main characters in that story. I furrow my brow as if to prevent tears of emotion. I pick up the sketchbook, flipping through each page to reminisce about our past encounters. The drawings, although not from a professional artist, are perfect in my eyes. Even a scene from the ball was depicted in great detail. I cannot think of any reason why he would remember those things. And there it is, a painting of me sitting around the piano on my parents' wedding anniversary. Another painting shows only me, leaning my head against a fountain, my heart aching after finishing The Hunchback of Notre Dame. That was the first time I cried for a character on paper. Somehow, I connected my soul to what happened in the story. There are many, many more paintings of me, and only me. I feel like a vain singer dazzled by the stage lights and the continuous applause from well-dressed men in black suits, hair slicked back, and the faint smell of cigarette smoke on their noses. While he is just a handyman adjusting the curtains and lights for me. But no matter where we stand, I still love him passionately, just like his love for each painting of me he carefully created. My hand stops at the first painting, my heart seems to skip a beat. It's a painting of me standing by the balcony, gazing into the distance. I was only twelve years old at the time. At that age, I never thought I would grow up to be a young lady like now. I was ugly and terribly skinny. My face was spotted with freckles, my body was emaciated, and my skin was as pale as a dried corpse. I was so ugly that I did not dare to appear in front of people. I thought the whole world would be afraid of me, even myself, but I was wrong. When I became the worst, there was still a boy who secretly loved and missed me from the very first glance.

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I lay aside his drawing pad and turn to embrace him. It is a fervent, sincere kiss, unburdened by regret. God, family, and Enzo are things I will never regret in any decision I make. I love him ardently, like the plants love the spring, like the birds love the wide sky. I love him, love him, and love him.

Two of us are intertwined. Softly in the midst of heavy breathing, I make a bold decision that I never dared to think of before.

"Marry me."

Oh Lord, forgive me! I made a mistake, and that made me a hypocrite. I scolded Thena for not behaving like a proper lady. But how can a proper lady dare to say such things? Oh, I have sinned, but please forgive me! For the one I love, I am willing to go against my beliefs!

"Are you sure?" Enzo cannot believe what I am saying. His face is full of joy, but deep inside I can taste the scent of fear.

"I will tell my parents next spring, when I turn twenty," I exclaim with delight.

"You won't regret it, will you? I love you, please don't misunderstand me, but don't give me hope if it won't happen!" Enzo is still very cautious.

I shed all my righteous appearance and completely immerse myself in the sweet nectar of love. I jump on him, placing my hands on his face, and say:

"I will never regret it! Don't you want to marry me?"

"That would be the best thing I could ever have. But I just want..."

"I will marry you. And if anything happens that separates us, you and I will flee far away, to a place where there's just the two of us."

I said that, and I was absolutely confident. I do not know if I am stepping into a muddy puddle. But I do not care, I will not submit to death without being loved in the true sense. I will curse Death if he dares to take that away from me. I push Enzo down onto the grass, then lean over and kiss him. Oh! This love has become too deep and gradually turned into a poison that corrodes my faith. Oh Lord! If You can see these things, please forgive me! I have sinned already!