It wasn't easy for him to decide that he was wrong. Louis Sediri lifted his soft black shirt to his torso while examining his relaxed face in the mirror, which reflected the morning sun on his sleepy blue eyes.
It was surprising that yesterday's discussion had captured his attention, which deterred him from having a night free of hours of deep thought that had led him to the same point, regardless of the different paths. He had been hasty in judging Mrs. Seguin Palom.
He lazily descended the stairs of the house, trying to sweep him away, following the sound of Albert singing from the kitchen, where the latter stood sipping a glass of cherry juice, the strong scent of which filled the warm place.
"Good morning." Louis caught his attention with his hoarse tone, and his uncle smiled at him, pushing one of his sweet pies towards him brightly. "Good morning. I made you the apple pie that you love!"
"No. I'm not hungry." Louis pushed the food away with a sated appetite, massaging his temples, which throbbed from scant sleep and a restless night. "I'm going to be gone for a while."
Albert frowned in confusion as he watched him head toward the kitchen door overlooking the flowery lawns, stopping him incredulously. "Where are you going?"
Louis scratched the back of his neck hesitantly, deciding whether to go forward or retreat completely, before he took a deep breath and turned to Albert, declaring, "To Mrs. Seven Pallum. Yesterday we had a disagreement, and I was a little mean to her."
It wasn't strange to see Albert's broad smile as he urged him to hurry eagerly, as if he feared he might change his mind the next moment. The morning breeze was a welcome breeze across the hill, where the nectar of jasmine mingled with the sweet scent of jasmine .
The red strawberry orchard was within easy reach, as he stopped and stared at the woman sitting on a bench in the center in front of her painting, which she had painted in dark, gloomy colors that puzzled him.
How could someone, standing in the middle of a piece of nature's paradise, breathing with vitality, have such a gloomy, depressing vision? How could such a beautiful woman have such disturbed feelings that prevented her from seeing the beauty around her and made her imagine the darkness within?
"Hello, Mrs. Palom." He spoke. He clasped his fists behind him politely, squeezing her back to him with a terseness that did not break with his greeting. Her fingers did not stop stroking the sad painting with the black brush, and the wind played with her hair that was almost flowing over her shoulders, concealing a face whose secrets he could not decipher
He licked his lips nervously, hating the situation he'd been placed in so freely, and cleared his throat gently. "I came to apologize for my mistreatment last night. I didn't mean to be rude."
No sound.
He raised his eyebrow with latent sarcasm, feeling embarrassed that he hadn't even received a face-saving word. She could have at least returned his greeting.
He bit his tongue in annoyance as he watched her hand continue her surrealism on her blackboard, his feet trailing him backward in hopes of salvaging what remained of his resolve. What a completely ridiculous situation.
"Well, that's all I came to say."
"The notebook. Underneath the tree."
His steps suddenly froze at the first hiss she made. Her tone was soft, laced with a hoarse thread that was foreign to her voice, and he turned to her, not understanding. "What?"
She didn't give him any explanation, so he pursed his lips, letting her cryptic phrase lead him to the nearby tree where she left the basket of strawberries next to the notebook that accompanied her everywhere. Louis lifted it slowly, casting a glance at half of her frozen face, before carefully examining the pages of the notebook.
Its pages contained fragments of poetry and musical notations that he ignorantly switched between. He didn't know exactly what she wanted him to see, until he stopped in front of pieces of paper that were hidden between the notebook, even though they weren't part of it, and was surprised.
It was a random drawing of his face with a light pencil. It was as if she had drawn it in a moment of distraction, not bothering to add details but rather meticulously sculpting his features skillfully. It was a strangely surreal drawing.
"That's me!"
"Not quite." She denied, the lines of his brow knitting together in surprise as he watched her put down her brush and finally turn to him. He looked into her wooden face with her glassy gaze. "That's what I see you as."
He didn't understand. Each time she dragged him into an obscure conversation that made him look like a foolish, superficial man. She was as if she was deliberately displaying her great knowledge in front of him to impress him that there was a woman like her. He struggled not to express his lack of understanding, adopting a disapproving tone. "What do you mean?"
Her expression broke with a thin smile. Sigin cleaned her hand with a cloth and walked over to the tree, lifting the basket of strawberries on her arm, before facing him with her flashing green eyes. "How about a cup of tea?"
He was taken aback by her sudden offer for a few seconds, then smiled acceptingly and kindly. "That would be great."
The morning nightingales were singing with delightful bliss as they fluttered in the sky, which was described as having an imaginary redness, and the bright sun was covering it with shining shadows that appeared with a splendor that filled hearts with love .
The clock struck ten on his ears, which stretched as he ran his exploring eyes over the corners of the warm house, filled with the scent of jasmine, which had become a distinctive mark of this beautiful woman who had surreptitiously captured most of his attention.
He was sitting in the small living room, waiting for her arrival with cups of tea after learning that she was here alone, without any servants to even tend to her fields for her. She was a unique entity he had never encountered before in a woman. No woman would be content to tend to her own farms, not in their high society, anyway.
When she returned, he found it difficult to contain his attraction. That scarlet dress, with its tight corset and fine patterns around her breasts, enveloped her. Her hair was almost tied back, but not so much that it peeped freely into her wide green eyes through its drifting blonde strands.
She was beautiful. And her beauty was captivating!
He muttered a thank you to her as he took the hot cup of tea from her, while she, in turn, flopped down on the opposite seat with a wide smile, as if she had read the love poem he was too embarrassed to think about, or seen the ecstasy that sparkled in his eyes for its charming heroine.
"So..." He cleared his throat, regaining his focus once more. "What did you mean outside, about that drawing?"
Sikin sat up straight. The faint sunlight bouncing off her face was gentle, highlighting her pale skin as she smiled softly at him .
"Drawing is my way of expressing my feelings toward others, Mr. Leverent. When I first heard about you, I imagined you as a polite, cultured man from a distinguished family like yours. I even tried to picture your features in my mind once. When we first actually met at the cemetery, my opinion of you as a gentleman was confirmed, and nothing I saw of your harsh manner changed my opinion, for I know that this was the influence of what I had heard about myself and the image I had of you. But unlike you, Mr. Leverent, I take people by their first impression. And that is what I shall always see in you, whatever your feelings toward me: a gentleman of honor... but one who is quickly influenced by the opinions of others."
Despite her frankness at the end of her speech, he was not disturbed. He was listening to her, and for the first time, he was leaving the windows of his mind open, sparing his feelings that were based on the words of others and an unexplained vision whose aspects he did not care to know
He judged by what he heard, ready to detest her the first act she committed that went against what he had formed in his head of flimsy, strict societal norms.
"Could you please stop staring at me like that?"
He was awakened from his turbulent thoughts by her smile, which he described as embarrassing, making him blink, muttering regretfully that didn't deter his lips from smiling back. She was strange in a good way.
He felt like an idiot, unable to find words to match what she had just said about him. He couldn't lie and compliment her on something he hadn't decided yet. He couldn't express how difficult it was to define his feelings toward her in this way. Was she really a bad woman, as everyone said, or was she a mysterious woman who just needed someone to delve into her private world?
He didn't know
You have a beautiful home." It was all he could get out of his throat, cursing his spontaneity that made him look like an idiot. He was never the flustered or shy type, but rather confident and always knew what to say. But at this moment... he was absent-minded .
"Thank you." She smiled, and he simply covered his face with his warm cup of tea. Every time they met, it was the most tense situation ever, and this time it was his turn not to let her get an unwelcome impression of him.
A knock on the door pulled him out of his embarrassment, and he put the cup aside and stood upright on his feet as he watched her answer the caller, who was none other than Rashdan, who bowed in greeting. "Good day, Mrs. Palum. Mr. Wilson has sent me to summon Mr. Legrent immediately."
"Is something wrong?" Louis asked anxiously. Rashdan smiled reassuringly and shook his head. "Don't worry, Mr. Legrent. He wants you to gather the cherries that have ripened from the trees with him."
Louie sighed in relief and nodded in understanding, signaling the gardener to leave. There were several moments of silence, punctured only by the hum of his scrambled thoughts, before he exhaled and looked directly into her beaming face. "It was a pleasure talking to you, Mrs. Palum. Really."
"Same thing, Mr. Legrent."
He smiled. Although the situation had started off on a sour note, the brief encounter was comforting and calmed his stormy mind. He walked the length of the hill toward the ripe, petaled cherry blossoms, their nectar falling softly, matching the ghost of a smile that unconsciously accompanied his lips.
"Took a long time." Albert smiled back, carefully arranging the ripened cherry clusters in the basket. "Thought you'd be halfway back."
"It wasn't that bad," Louie declared, shrugging lightly as he picked up one of the thin shears and climbed the small wooden ladder toward a mature, pure-red tree. "It's nice."
Wow. How utterly ridiculous that statement had sounded the night before .
Did you hear that, Rashdan? He says she's nice!" Albert laughed toward his distant orchard before glancing at Louis from behind the budded tree branch with a confident look and a delicate smile. "I told you that if you got to know her, you'd like her."
"I just said she was nice, Albert."
Albert shrugged his shoulders, insisting on saying that in the face of his nephew's insulted sarcasm. Louis sighed, surrendering to the former's stubbornness in his admission, not even trying to explain his true feelings toward the mysterious blonde woman.
He himself didn't know what these feelings were.
It was strange for him to think about her differently. To erase all his negative feelings and form his own decision according to his own vision, not those of others. Although he still despised what he saw from her, a shameful act that he could not forget that night of the party
He was nestled among the cherry tree branches, enjoying the caress of the flowers on his hands and cheeks with all the softness that he relaxed into fondly. One of his old customs, which he shared with his uncle, was to harvest the cherries when they were ripe, and he had always argued with his grandmother that it diminished his appearance as the gentleman he would become.
But that wasn't how he saw her. He knew that she was trying to raise him like his father, a refined, civilized man, unlike her view of his uncle, who had gone to extremes and rebelled against his family and its traditions. But perhaps he had a shy, rebellious root inside him that liked to break the rules for a while.
"Welcome, ma'am!"
He was pulled from his deep reverie by his uncle's cheerful greeting and peeked his head through the branches to see him greeting Sigin Palom in the middle of the field with a wide smile
She was still shining in her crimson red dress, which made her stand out like a beautiful flower among the trees. She gently tied her hair behind her head with her blue scarf, the soft texture of which he could still feel between his fingers, and he inhaled the scent of jasmine that had clung to his nose since that moment .
She had a unique look that helped her catch everyone's eye, no matter what place she entered. She had that mysterious aura that caught everyone's attention, so they would get lost in the painting of her beauty, whose exceptionality he felt second after second.
He returned to the branches, continuing to cut the bunches with an absent-minded mind and ears that threw themselves at the sound of their voices that were slowly approaching the surrounding area. He struggled not to let them distract him from his work. He didn't know what hit him every time she was around, as if he had never dealt with a woman before.
"You shouldn't tire yourself out coming, Seven." Albert acknowledged the blonde meeting him with a slight nod, smiling a weak smile that Louis caught from the tangled cherry blossoms. "I'm always happy to help you take care of the place, Albert."
He could see her chest rising above his chest. She took a long breath, the dominant cherry nectar penetrating the clear air very deeply, and she relaxed. "Besides, noon is always so beautiful here."
He had always learned that when doing something, he had to be the center of his attention. During his school years, he had learned that to accomplish a task, he had to be precise and avoid distractions.
Perhaps if he had been paying attention to himself for a moment, he wouldn't have groaned in pain as his scissors bit his finger so barbarically that drops of his blood stained some of the virgin cherry petals with their warm texture and rusty taste.
"Louis, are you okay?" Albert looked up from the nearest spot, and Louis gritted his teeth and knelt on one of the small steps, holding his hand, the cut finger in pain that he struggled to shake off. "Yes. I just cut myself."
"I told you to wear gloves, but you're just being stubborn."
He didn't answer his uncle's reproach as he heard him follow it with Rashdan's order to bring some medical bandages while he stared at the shadow that approached, drawing his neck high to meet a face stretched out with questioning eyes. "Is it serious?"
He denied the gesture, gulping down his saliva nervously as he felt her soft hand with prominent veins carefully holding his wounded privates, inspecting the blood beneath his submissive blue eyes.
"It's not serious. It seems something distracted you." She smiled half a smile, giving him a quick look, making his face recoil shyly, pushing the letters to his tongue in hidden confusion. "Yes. I don't know what happened to me... just now..."
Every letter he had worked on building choked with its conclusion as he felt her lips forcefully embrace his bloody finger, exciting a restless passion within his limbs as he looked at her in astonishment that crushed his words and he shivered with numbness that struck his mind.
Her touch was completely delicate.
Her green eyes softened with a calm gaze as if she knew exactly what she was doing with the edge of her tongue as it gently picked up the dripping drops of blood, drying it like an idol, trying to comprehend the entire situation.
Here he was, like an intoxicated impotent man, sitting in front of the most suspicious and strange woman he had ever met, embracing his wounded finger between her soft lips like seductive cotton candy, unconsciously capturing all his senses.
Could the situation get any stranger?
"I brought the bandages, Mrs. Palom."
He missed the warm, wet feel around his finger, along with Rashdan's voice when she moved it away from her lips, keeping his hand in her grip while she treated his wound with such skill that it made him wonder if there was anything that woman couldn't do .
"Here you are, Mr. Legrent." She smiled as she finished, awakening him from his deep reverie amidst many things. He woke up, thanking her in the softest tone he could extract from his sea of astonishment.
"I think your turn is over today, Louis." Albert informed him with a talismanic smile, which he hadn't bothered to translate while he was ever drunk on everything that had happened during the first hours of his day, and on what had taken his concentration without even the slightest resistance.
"Be careful not to do anything that might hurt your hand again."
"Don't worry about him, Albert. Mr. Legrent and I have an unfinished conversation that we need to finish." Louis's answer was cut short by Seven's statement, which she said with the ghost of a gentle smile that almost stole his breath for a moment.
"...Would you mind taking me for a little tour, Mr. Legrent?"
How could a man with even a modicum of sanity refuse a request from such a woman? It was difficult to define his feelings as he found himself wandering among the fluttering rose stalks and the fresh winter breeze dancing, creating an exceptional atmosphere around them.
Despite her claim that their conversation had not ended, she had not uttered a word since they were alone, out of earshot of Albert and Rashdan. She was quiet beside him, contemplating the vast fields with eyes that had never met his own. Somehow, he found no escape from his confusion.
They were wandering through the lands surrounding Albert's estate, where they passed a stream whose water ran with a ravishing ripple, adding to their wondrous tour and a lullaby with the sound of geese flying with their delicate wings among the turbans.
"Did you feel disturbed?" He was surprised by her question, which puzzled him and made him look at her after a long period of intense insistence, which he had held back in incomprehension. "From what?"
"When I put your finger between my lips. Were you upset?" She paused, her emerald eyes directed at him, hoping for his indecisive shake, astonished by the simple presentation of her question. "I was definitely surprised. But I wasn't upset."
"A doctor I know told me about it.
He said the bleeding should be stopped before bandaging the wound so it wouldn't be stained."
"That helped. Thank you." He smiled at her smile, which made her features lighten with calm radiance, and followed her to the point where their circle of walk ended, where they returned once again to the threshold of Albert's orchard, where the jasmine flowers breathed eagerly, spreading their illusory fragrance.
Louis had no reason to suspect anything other than her unexpected movements, which increased his confusion. He watched her fingers reach smoothly to one of the blooming roses, picking up a small butterfly that had settled among its petals. She relaxed to embrace it, and a gentle smile appeared on her lips
"In Roman culture, butterflies symbolize the noble feelings hidden in the heart. They are considered a passionate omen of true love." She whispered, captivating him, releasing the butterfly into the horizon and studying it calmly. "Don't you wonder how many secrets these charming creatures contain?"
"Yes. I am." He whispered, but he didn't know whether to confirm her statement or acknowledge another fact that had materialized before him. He didn't know.
"We had a pleasant talk early that morning." She included the statement with a thread of a smile that didn't leave her as she leaned against the tree trunk, like a complete artistic painting of a cherry that had fallen into a bowl of jasmine, outshining him with her beauty.
"Although you seemed a little uncomfortable."
He threw his fists into his trouser pockets as he knitted his eyebrows in surprise, denying her conclusion. "That's not true. I may have been nervous, but I enjoyed talking to you, Mrs. Palom."
"That's good. That was all she had gone through, and nothing more.
They stood there, their eyes separated in different paths that might never meet again. While she was looking at the horizon, lost in whatever strange thoughts came to her mind, he was lost in her face with all the wars that had erupted in his chest.
How crazy.
How could he have so many different feelings for one woman in just one day?