Fur Elise | Taehyung

Prologue

A knock on the door woke me up from my deep slumber. I fluttered my eyes open, still sore from mourning over my heart that died when he refused to acknowledge my feelings.

Emily, my nana and also the head maid, entered my room with a frown on her face and downcast eyes, refusing to meet my gaze.

I almost did not notice that she was holding something in her hands until she stood at my bedside.

"Mr. Froebel wishes me to hand you this letter, miss," she said.

"Henry did?"

"Yes, miss."

'Why is he giving me a letter? Is he planning to reject me through a piece of paper?'

In a hesitant voice, I asked her the question that has been bothering me since last night.

"Aside from the letter, did you notice anything... unusual?"

"He seems to be bringing a suitcase with him, miss," she replied, casting me a confused gaze.

'A... suitcase?'

"I see. I would like to be alone for a while, Emily." Dismissing her with a forced smile.

"Understood, miss."

Emily politely bowed down before heading towards the door. I waited for a moment until I heard the click on the handle. With unsteady hands and an anxious heart, I started to open the envelope.
  
    
My Dearest Elise,

I'm giving you this letter to notify you that I will be going to the capital to study. A gentleman decided to financially sponsor my education and I grabbed this opportunity in pursuit of my dreams.

Due to the conditions of the contract, I can only go home during the holidays and I will have to pay back the fortune I owed by working under his firm. It will be a month of Sundays, but fret not, as I was allowed to send a letter back home, and to you, my Elise.

I wanted to tell you this in person before I leave but I could not get ahold of you. Emily told me yesterday that you do not wish to see me. Did I do something to make you upset, or is this perhaps, about the confession?

The day you told me how you feel about me, is the day that I finally decided that I wanted to be a man capable of providing your needs and being able to give everything your heart desires. I want to get out of the mud and give you, my future rib and our next of kin, a comfortable life.

Right now, I could not offer you anything. Still a hobbledehoy - a son of a farmer who could not afford a single hairpin without two months' worth of labor. I do not wish to become a man that is all hat and no cattle when I ask for your hand in marriage.

I would like to ask for a selfish favor. I am aware that the distance of our world is that of the sky and the ground. You are a lady of superior, and I am your servant who has nothing except my ardent love and admiration. Until this moment, I could never resolve to make a disclosure of my passion, on account of the inequality of our situations.

Say then, my lady, in five years, will you permit me to make you an offer of my hand and heart? Will you suffer me to indulge the pleasing expectation of receiving a return of mutual love when I return home? Should you decide to unite your destiny with mine and make me the happiest of men, I will devote my life to you, and only you for eternity.

Ever yours,
Henry
 
   
I felt my tongue go numb, too stoned to move after reading the letter.

All along, I thought he was afraid to reject me and hurt my feelings which is why he did not give me a definite answer.

Wait.
 
 
'Is he leaving today?!'
 
  
As if I was electrocuted, I immediately stood up and ran outside our manor, not minding that I am still in my nightgown.

An immense and overwhelming feeling of fear, guilt, and betrayal clouded my judgment as I started to blame myself for refusing to see him for a week since my confession. I wanted to curse myself for being so stubborn and acting like a fool.

I reached for the newly painted gate, not minding if I stained my hands and clothes, hastily looking outside the green, long pathway of our home.
  
  
No one was there.
 
  
"I was too late... he's already gone. Henry had left me."
 
  

***

This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are from my figments of imagination unless otherwise stated. Any resemblance to a real person, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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