Please Forget Me - Chapter 278

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

What if you thought I was nothing more than a hot-tempered brute, some street ruffian who throws punches at the slightest provocation?

I had no idea what to write to clear that misunderstanding. No matter how I phrased it, it sounded like an excuse that would be petty and undignified. Even my handwriting, something I had always been confident in, suddenly looked clumsy and childish.

At least I had a reason to send the letter. And yet, why did everything feel so hopeless? Meeting you was a stroke of luck, but from the very beginning, it felt as though fate itself had tangled our threads. And that, no doubt, was my fault.

Writing the letter was hard enough. Delivering it was worse. If I sent it through a servant, it would end up in my mother’s hands, not yours. If I tried to give it to you myself, Mother would notice immediately. Then, she would send you away from our estate at once. If that happened, even watching you from afar would be over.

Once I was forbidden from following you to your gatherings, I learned how to watch you from a distance without leaving Mother’s supervision. After breakfast each morning, you would stroll with a maid along the pond between the main house and the annex, admiring the flowers. There was a spot in the main library with a perfect view.

You seemed especially fond of the wisteria arch along the path, often lingering beneath it. I hated that wisteria. In summer, its leaves and blossoms grew so thick that I couldn’t see your face clearly. I would glare at the vines, and whenever a gap opened just enough to reveal your bright smile, I’d grin back like a fool.

My hand moved almost of its own accord, pencil gliding across paper. To anyone watching, it must have looked like I was studying—I kept a thick book open in front of me—but all morning I scribbled on the blank sheet spread atop it. That morning, too, I was drawing you.

“Bookworm. I knew you’d be here.”

Rupert’s voice came from behind me. I snapped the book shut at once.

“Why would you be looking for a worm?”

“Why else? Did you forget we’re all going hunting today?”

Forget? I had already said I wasn’t going.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

If I argued any longer, Rupert might realize I’d been watching you.

“A botany book?”

My heart nearly stopped when he showed sudden interest in the very book hiding your portrait.

“Planning to become a gardener? If Uncle finds out—”

“Then Aunt will hear about you being in love with a jar of petroleum jelly.”

…Dana, your husband’s bizarre proclivities are not the point right now.

“Disloyal bastard. You’re no man at all.”

“Shut up. Just get out.”

Because of that interruption, I had to leave the book behind, completely exposed. When I returned to the library later that afternoon, it was gone. My heart dropped.

I searched the shelves and found it back in its place. The maid must have returned it. Relieved, I pulled it out and opened it.

And then I nearly felt my heart stop for real.

Your portrait was gone. In its place was a slip of paper, written in an unfamiliar hand.

[Who are you, to draw my face?]

It seemed you had opened the book to identify a flower you’d seen in the garden. I had chosen it because Rupert wouldn’t touch it, never imagining it would be a book you might open.

‘It’s over.’

The ground seemed to crumble beneath my feet. I was certain you were angry.

Even in my despair, guilt washed over me. Only then did I truly realize how unsettling it must have been. to discover that some unknown man had been watching you, even sketching you in secret. My thoughtlessness horrified me.

I needed to explain. To apologize. But I couldn’t speak. A letter would surely be intercepted by Mother.

After agonizing all day, I finally slipped an apology into the same page of the botany book and returned it to the shelf. You had left a note there; perhaps you would check again.

[I sincerely apologize for causing you discomfort, Miss Loveridge.
I did not watch you with improper intent. You were simply so beautiful that I could not look away. Nor was the portrait drawn with any impure purpose. I only wished to hold onto a fleeting moment of beauty. One that might otherwise be swept away by time, like dandelion seeds scattered by the wind.
Regardless of my intentions, your discomfort is entirely justified. I promise I will never do such a thing again.]