The sun already bid its goodbye and the shadows danced in the moonlight,

flitting its way toward the window of Sal's room. The night was silent. So are the days. She cannot sleep. She sat on her desk and began writing under the pale light

... requests your good office that my son should be excused from his studies...

No. The Signor will never mention those words. He is the image of dignity and honor and for that reason he will not give himself to such intimacies. She crumpled the paper and wrote another.

.... requests your good office that Napoleon Felix Cuore be excused from his studies...

It was done in full knowledge that the words written in the letter will never be uttered by the Signor. He is always distant, the scorching cold sun. He never looked at her.

Sal's hand trembled. It was the last step, putting the Signor's signature.

Strange. It was wrong. Voices of old men quarreling. Shadows dancing in the day.

She shook her head to ward off the images. At a wild stroke, it was finished. With slow, steady steps, she took towards the door to leave the letter in the tray.

Will it be found? Delivered? Ah, Choices are only for the blessed, for the brave.

A week passed without anything strange happening. It was like the days that came before. Stay in the room. Keep the windows closed. Do not make any noise. The days went on as usual except the Mercantile visits became fewer and far in between.

Three loud knocks. Sal breathed a whisper. Again, another knock. She walked with slow steps as the knocks became louder.

The door bolted open and a long wooden cane whipped at her cheek. It was the Signor. No. It was the father. His stare stung harder than the pain in her cheek. It was during these times that she can really see how he looked like. His steps were heavy and all she could hear is the sound of the cane hitting the wooden floor. He did not need any other way to greet her as he held a small letter in his hand.

“What did you do?” he said. It was low, whispered. He was shaking the letter in his hand.

Sal bowed her head, the pain in her cheek stinging harder. Oleon was not welll, so she had to help him. Sal glanced at the man for a second. It is not that she cannot answer but explanations have always been futile. Respect your elders. Do not talk back. They know what’s right. She was only a girl.

"Interfering in a man's business is never your right. He had a path set for him and you do not aid him in his folly. A man’s business is left to a man alone." Words went out of gritted teeth.

" I am duly sorry. "

Yet, no apology was meant. The words seemed, empty. Only, she could think of was the sting in her face. The Signor never looked at her in the eye. Yet alone, recognize her without a veil. It was different from the way Ren would gaze at her, how he knew her presence in a beat. She thought of her lady's words from years ago. You cannot offend someone who does not value you.

"Disgraceful.”

He paused. Sal dared not to look up. There was an audible sound of teeth gritting.

"I will not let you continue shaming the Cuore name."

She can only see the floor as she kept her head bowed to avoid his stare.

There will be no feeling, no sorrow. Wood met wood as the Signor tapped his cane and turned.

"The good lord Lidelse must be informed that there will be no wedding to take place. His nephew, Duren Leaugood Lidelse, will be very relieved."

Everything dissolved into a blur. A storm has taken away everything. She bit her lip to prevent a sound from escaping.

" You don't deserve to be my child." He whispered as he left the room.