Misunderstanding

"Are you sure you're okay? You threw up a few times yesterday. Maybe you have a stomach ache?"

"No. I'm fine."

"Why aren't you looking me in the eye?" As soon as Adelard lifted his gaze and looked into those deep eyes, he immediately remembered that moment when Jean had kissed his hands and feet and all the things he had done to him while he lay there unable to move. The strange feeling came back to him. But he said nothing, only shrugged his shoulders.

"Adelard?"

"What? What do you want?" Adelard asked as politely as possible, trying not to show his anxiety about the dream he had last night.

Jean, approached him, and leaning his hands on the table, said, "I'm worried about you. You can tell me anything that worries you, can't you?"

For the first time in so many years of friendship, Adelard felt an awkwardness between them. But he didn't make that awkwardness obvious. Instead, he hid it behind the words, "Last night, I had the strangest dream of my life."

"What kind of dream? What was the dream about?"

"Would you please sit down. I have to keep working." The very second Jean touched his forehead, Adelard flinched and shouted, "Theo! Theo, please come in for a minute!"

Theo was immediately in front of him, happily awaiting the order. But all Adelard said was, "Make me some tea."

Surprised at what had just been said, Theo nodded and left the office.

"Since when do you want someone to make you tea?" Jean asked with a sneer in his voice. Adelard, frowning, stood up and walked over to the window and continued his work. "Well, if you don't want to talk to me, I'll be going. See you Adelard," Jean said, leaving behind a resentment and sadness that made Adelard's kind heart shrink, causing him pain and suffering. What was going on he did not know at all. But he remembered that strange dream in which Jean loved him, Celeste embraced him and unfamiliar eyes looked at him. After that memory, he felt more pain all over his body. Quickly grabbing his jacket, he crashed into Theo, who almost spilled his tea, and without saying anything, he ran toward the exit.

"Monsieur! Monsieur Adelard!"

"Where did he run off to?" Jean asked, causing Theo to drop his mug.

"I don't know. He seems to be in a hurry."

As always, a man who is frightened wants to find tranquility and salvation in the arms of a woman. But what if that woman always disappears, leaving behind strange feelings? Adelard was torn apart. After all, he wanted to go to the hospital, to see the young man Gaspard, he wanted to visit Madame Lucy and her children, he wanted to apologize to that man named Louis, and also, he had so much to do. But nevertheless, he wished to see her and only then to continue his work. His thoughts were occupied only with this woman. In fact he had even stopped being himself and thinking the way he had always thought. He hadn't even noticed that it was raining and that his suit was already soaked to the skin. It was, perhaps, a frightening sight. The man was himself, and suddenly he was an echo of someone else's voice. Love, it brings happiness and takes away identity.

"Adelard!" That voice could have destroyed and saved him at the same time. He threw himself into her arms with all his strength.

"What is the matter with you?"

"They ask me that over and over again. Celeste, I'm tired. You just don't know how tired I am."

They were standing on that very bridge. She was holding a basket of dirty laundry, and he was holding her. And it was the most romantic picture that people passing by had to see.

"Is that Adelard? I wonder who's that next to him?"

"He said he had a fiancée, didn't he?"

"What? Why didn't I hear about that?"

"What's that on her face? Is that a bruise?" someone asked so loudly that Adelard stepped aside and cried at what he saw. Or rather, he screamed in horror and only then did the tears appear on his cheeks. "What is this? Who did this?"

Covering the round bruise around her eye with her palm, Celeste put her head down. The unfortunate girl was shivering with cold and shame, but her shoulders didn't go down; they were her wings, the thing on which her pride stood.

"Celeste answer me!" Adelard raised his voice. "Why won't you say anything to me? Why are you acting like you don't want to be with me? Why?"

"I don't. Adelard, you know that."

Taking her palm away from her face, Adelard moved closer. And as always, his soul was bursting and breaking and ready to make any deal with the scariest creature, and all for the sake of keeping the person in front of him happy at all times. He believed in happiness and nothing could change that.

"We'll go to the police now."

"No. Adelard stop!"

"What? What else do you want to say? Do you want to run away? Leave me alone again? Why do you want me to suffer so much? Celeste, I can no longer realize that you are unhappy. And now, somebody hits you and you don't tell me anything? What is this? What have I done wrong to you?" She laughed weakly. There was something strange in that laugh. But the girl just looked at him and all that was visible on her face was a big bruise. It was a mark of shame. It was a mark of humanity and society. There was not an ounce of good in the dark blue with the black spots. It was the color of blood that took all the blow, wanting to leave her soul intact.