On June 22nd, 1911.

Black coat, black dress, black veil. We, the young and a widow, attend the funeral of our father and my mother’s husband. My eyes are dry, and no pain can afflict the already worn-out body. The mourning air envelops the river delta region. Only when people die, do others come to mourn and bid farewell.

I alone stand, without a tear, gazing at the old man's body buried in the cold earth. Only last night, he was still happy, contented with his family, but now he has chosen another path. Who would have thought that a person who always smiled could not feel comfort deep down? He could not overcome the invisible shame that he had created for himself. He could not see how truly happy we were with our ordinary lives. Happiness is so simple, but not everyone realises it. We see the green vegetable patches as beautiful gardens with fragrant flowers, while he only sees deep branches and earthy bushes. We cherish storytelling sessions, while he only remembers the speeches at traditional fairs and permanent committee meetings. We lost the grand manor and vast estates, but in exchange, we gained ultimate peace, while he was engulfed in a storm. He never felt happy. He always blamed himself for losing all the good things. Why could we not have realised it sooner? Why could we only see the forced smile without suspicion?

We ought to understand that he loves this estate more than his own life. He thought he could overcome this shock, but in the end he is just an ordinary man. If I were to meet him again, I would certainly question him. Can a life of poverty with my family not compare to that former glory? Would he really give up everything, my mother, my siblings, and all the memories, just for the loss of an immobile estate? They say that money cannot buy happiness, but poverty cannot sustain it either. Pride may not actually kill my father, but harsh reality pushed him to the brink.

I stand alone as if waiting for some kind of echo. The wind blows gently, the heart withered. The river flows slowly into the distance. The sound of footsteps on the grass made me turn back. Andermis in a black suit approached with a bouquet of chamomile. He stood beside me without saying anything at first. Andermis respectfully placed the bouquet on the soil mound, then stood with me to express condolences.

"I share your grief with your family."

"Thank you, Mr. Morten," I replied with an emotionless face. "You have travelled a long way. Please come inside and let me invite you for some tea."

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"No need, I will be on my way," he declined with a shake of his head. "I came here to visit you and convey a message from my brother."

"He never stops..." I muttered. "I thought I made myself clear to him."

“If you know Augustin well, he will never stop until he gets what he wants,” says Andermis with a helpless expression. We pause for a moment to ponder the past. The melancholic autumn wind blows, and my hair flutters in the breeze. I can hear the sound of restlessness coming from his chest, but I do not know what to do, nor do I intend to. Andermis then hands me a letter from inside his jacket pocket. I look at it and recognize Augustin's handwriting. Despite knowing what it contains, I accept it. I can guess what is inside, a proposal of marriage or worse, a contract for sale of a woman.

"Before you read this letter, I wish to remind you of something..."

"People always think they can control everything until fate speaks up," I chuckle lightly. "I'm listening..."

"Please think carefully. I know you are hurting now and you are thinking that you can save everything. But because I have an affection towards you, I don't want you to make a wrong choice just because of a whim."

Andermis speaks earnestly, but all I see is a man trying to persuade me. I put the letter inside and look at him with empty eyes, interrogating him:

"Do you think I'm a fickle person?"

"I believe you are a smart person, but sometimes you may be confused. Think about your family, think about the young housekeeper..."

"Should I think about you?" I interrupt, teasing him. "If only you would be as persistent as my brother..."

Andermis' face becomes a little panicked at my words. He involuntarily steps back, shaking his head repeatedly. Andermis says:

"I love you, Fiona, but please don't play with my feelings. Only God knows how much I want to marry you. But I swear I will not touch you when your heart is tied to someone else."

Suddenly, I feel as though I have committed a wrongdoing. Like Andermis' words, I have truly toyed with the respect that he had for me. I was too blinded by my own folly to think that others could also deserve to suffer as I am feeling now. I wish to approach him to apologise, but Andermis has left without looking back. Oh God! Have I become such a wretched woman?