Some women are broken by the world.
Others learn to break it back.
This is a story of a woman who waited — for love, for kindness, for a single moment of being seen.
She waited too long.
What you are about to read was born in the quiet space between endurance and fury — in the rustle of a black velvet dress, in the scent of roses that should never have been black, in the steady hands of a woman who finally chose herself.
Read it slowly.
And remember — she had no choice.
— Emilia
What a beautiful moon… a warm night outside my window… a clear sky without clouds… a full moon and countless stars.
I breathe in this view until my chest aches from the depth of the breath…
I glance around the room… it is perfect…
Perhaps I should rearrange the fruit basket on the table? No — no.
Everything is perfectly placed.
I look out the window… I glance at the clock above the fireplace… soon it will strike eleven in the evening.
I straighten my dress… I wrap myself in impatient anticipation.
For my beloved.
I have prepared all of this for him — so that our evening would be one of those unforgettable ones.
But will it be?
I scold myself… stop thinking like that. Everything will be… won't be… is perfect… I stay with that thought.
I stand and watch for Him in the night beyond the window… it is very dark.
I'll light the lantern on the porch to illuminate his path to me.
Why did I forget that? Why didn't I do it sooner? Stop looking for flaws in this perfect waiting for the Love of my life.
He is so beautiful, I think… that boyish face… those long black hair carelessly tied with a ribbon… those deep eyes… I looked into them for the first time and drowned in them… just like that… forever… for eternity.
I remember… I was doing my usual Friday shopping at the market… searching for goods from the travelling merchants… sometimes they carry rare perfumes, soaps…
I was so absorbed in looking that I paid no attention to the man who was offering these beautiful things… I gathered everything fragrant and unusual and was about to ask for it to be wrapped…
And in that moment my breath froze inside me…
…my brightest lord… what do my eyes behold… the most beautiful man in the world.
I sighed at the very thought…
I am a little nervous… my foolish mind casts doubt on tonight's meeting.
What if he doesn't come? All those preparations in the kitchen… to make this evening truly perfect… because He is perfect…
…stop, stop, Emma, stop doubting the sincerity of the feeling between us.
Oh sweetest Jesus… I see movement outside the window… I trembled within myself… with excitement.
…I see him walking… in the darkness of the night I see only the white of his shirt and his pale face…
I straighten my dress once more… I know I look perfect… but it's the nerves making me adjust it endlessly… ugh… a foolish habit I must control or he'll think something of me… that I'm some nervous creature… he would be right… I smile at that thought.
I run out onto the porch to greet my Beloved.
I can see him clearly now… he holds a bouquet of the most beautiful roses… black ones.
But why black? Why not red?
My mother — may the earth rest lightly upon her — used to say that the colour of flowers has meaning.
Black is for farewell…
I push that thought away… how can it be farewell… when it has only just begun…
No matter… I run out to meet him… I throw myself around his neck… and kiss him… he returns it.
How happy I am… I no longer think about the colour of the flowers… foolish mother was wrong about colours.
We walk embraced toward the door… how blissfully happy I am…
We enter… the scent of the dish I prepared reaches us… it smells of love.
I serve the table… we sit across from each other, looking into each other's eyes… I am literally melting under his gaze… but I must compose myself… I scold myself.
He compliments my cooking… that he hasn't eaten anything so truly wonderful in a long time.
And I have larks flying above my head… good thing he cannot see them… I smile gently, filled with love for him.
He approaches me… looks into my eyes… takes my face in his hands and places an impossibly deep kiss upon my lips… I want to return it… but what is this??? He pulls away from me.
I ask with my eyes — why?
He answers… I am only your dream.
How blissfully happy I am today — and yet how afraid.
I have a wonderfully mystical plan.
I had been planning this for a long time — but why didn't I do it sooner? I wonder.
No — I won't think about why I didn't act on my plan earlier… what matters is that I will do it now.
I have endured humiliation for too long… blows to the face… at the very thought I touch my cheek and lips… I feel the absence of a tooth… I am ashamed at the thought… that I allowed this.
Don't think too much, I tell myself… I wrap myself in my shawl and go to the apothecary for my remedy…
I don't even walk — I run.
I have little time to execute the plan. The soup is already ready… I need only one ingredient so that it tastes exactly as my husband deserves…
He deserves it… in all his magnificence. A psychopathic man. Why did I not see through him before the wedding? He was so charming… he won my mother's heart… a gentleman in all his glory. The memory of my own naivety causes me pain — but also a wave of hatred and the righteousness of what I am planning to do.
I am at the apothecary… he hands me a wrapped vial… I had to ask him for a long time to prepare the mixture for my "soup." He knows my story… he grieves over my life… that is why he helped me.
On the way back I thought I would buy flowers for the table. I haven't bought flowers in a long time and they put me in a good mood. Today I am in a wonderful mood. I stop at the florist and what do I see! Black roses! I have never seen such things — they are sensually mystical, beautiful! I take them all… the price does not matter… it no longer interests me… today must be mystical. It will be.
I take my bouquet, check with my hand the contents of my coat pocket — reassuring myself that I have everything… my seasoning for the soup… and I run home. I have little time.
Here I am, my beloved little house. In a moment you will be only mine. I take a vase, pour water and place my magnificent black roses inside. Mother used to say that the colour of flowers has meaning. Yes it does — I agree with her. May the earth rest lightly upon her… it is good she did not live to see the moment when I am missing a tooth in my once pretty little mouth. I quickly wipe away a tear thinking of my reality.
No time for tears! No time for memories. One must act! I run upstairs to put on a dress — not these rags I wear constantly. Like a victim of fate… I am one… but only for one moment longer. Only a moment separates me from freedom. I reach the wardrobe… where is it? The beautiful velvet dress… I bought it long ago for my mother's funeral… it will be perfect for today. And these roses… something magnificent.
Dressed in my beautiful dress I stand by the window and wait for my husband. I am full of anticipation… excited by what is about to happen.
I see him from afar… he walks with his certain, brutal stride. I memorise this sight as the last. I will never see him again — and I gave a small jump of joy at that thought.
I wait… I see him step onto the porch. He opens the door — says nothing. He sits at the table as every day and waits for his serving wife to bring him dinner. With pleasure, my Darling — I think — today I shall serve you.
He did not notice the roses on the table. He did not notice my transformation — the dress. I am used to it… I expect no compliment.
I ladle his soup — it is his favourite… before I carry it over I take the vial from the drawer and pour the entire contents in. Yes, I know — the apothecary said a few drops. But I must be certain and I do not follow the apothecary's instructions. I carry my beloved husband his dinner. I set it down. I sit across from him and watch. He eats heartily and praises my cooking. Normally I would accept the compliment — but not from this man.
He finished the entire bowl. I trembled inside.
Now — only wait. How long? I don't know. We shall see.
He looks at me… I feel strange but I hold his gaze. He asks — did you buy roses? I answer — yes. On what occasion, he asks? On the occasion of reality.
You're babbling nonsense again, he answers. No, my dear husband — this is no longer nonsense. I observe him carefully… his eyes are becoming strange. His speech is unclear. I hear the question — was everything alright with that dinner? I don't feel well.
I look at him and answer. The dinner was entirely proper — for you. Did it not suit your taste?
He does not answer — only stares with a dull gaze.
I smile very broadly.
He asks with the last of his remaining speech — what did you add to the dinner?
I laugh and answer.
Arsenic, Darling.
This is My Reality.