Distant Star (A Short Story)

Five | Cinq

LONDON, 1917

Amelie's Point of View

ARTHUR and I exchanged vows on November 11, 1917, and I received English citizenship and took on the title Countess of Lorendale. Arthur was a kind and gentle man, and he had shown me nothing but respect and adoration since the day we met. He knew every detail of me, and he showered me with gifts and affection. My heart was consumed with guilt because he would buy me a blank canvas to continue my passion for art and make me happy, only for me to paint the memory I and Gabriel once shared. He would take me to different luxurious palaces, but I forever resided inside Gabriel's heart.

Arthur would bring me flowers every day, and they made me smile, but not grin. He would play the piano for me, but all I needed to hear was Gabriel's voice once again. He would embrace me as we lay down, but I was closing my eyes and dreaming that it was Gabriel's arm wrapping around me. I could not give Arthur my love, for it belonged to Gabriel and to him alone, but at least I could offer my gratitude for the stability provided and my respect to the man who had shown me nothing but kindness.

The Great War came to an end on November 11, 1918, coinciding with the anniversary of my marriage to Arthur. The Allies had won, marking the downfall of four powerful empires: the German, the Austro-Hungarian, the Russian, and the Ottoman Empire. As a wealthy countess, I was already free and away from the perils of war, but the trauma I suffered in France, and Gabriel's loss were still haunting me. The war had taken countless lives and shattered relationships, leaving me hoping for a future without such wars ever happening again.

Well, not until two decades later.

World War II ignited when Germany invaded Poland. Arthur and I knew that this would be another devastating chapter in human history. In order to protect ourselves and find refuge from the impending chaos, Arthur used his influential connections to seek evacuation to Switzerland, a country known for its neutrality in times of war. As we settled there, we closely followed the events across the globe. Little did we know that it would last for a catastrophic six years, surpassing even the horrors witnessed during the previous Great War.

In the year 1945, World War II ended. Arthur, sensing my homesickness, suggested a trip to France to pay tribute to the brave souls and fallen heroes who had lost their lives in both World Wars I and II before going back to England. With no traces of war left, we left Switzerland and fled to France. It had been nearly thirty years since I had last set foot on the soil of my motherland.

Arthur and I went to a cemetery where thousands of soldiers and veterans from World War I were laid to rest. While he was engaged in conversation with the officials, I scanned the names engraved on each tomb one by one. Tears slowly fell from my eyes as I looked at them. Each of them had their own stories and dreams, only to be shattered by a devastating moment here on Earth, a place where peace should exist.

As I quietly walked in the middle of the cemetery, an elderly woman who seemed like a caretaker approached and greeted me. "Madame, you look French. Are you a foreigner or a local? What is your name?"

"I am Amelie Martin, a Frenchwoman. I left this country during World War I and married a foreigner, so I now live in England," I replied, and it seemed like her world crumbled upon hearing the words I said. She covered her mouth, and tears welled up in her eyes, and then I was confused. Did I say something wrong? I gathered the courage to ask her what was wrong, but what she was about to say would also shatter my life - a truth that I would carry with me until my grave.

"Madame Amelie Martin, do you know Monsieur Gabriel Laurent?"