one last time

x

Time seemed to come to a screeching halt after hearing of Hans' death. You don't remember the rest of Christmas Eve, nor do you remember what happened during the remainder of the holidays. People slowly began visiting the penthouse, inquiring about your relationship to Hans, making sure you were eating, talking about estates and legalities that you didn't understand

The first thing you recall saying out loud was sad and simple- "I don't want his money. I want him."

Theo called again after what felt like weeks. Maybe it was actually months. You hadn't really left your bed, it could've been days and you wouldn't have known any better. He asked about your wellbeing, and you told him you felt sick. You were sick sick sick.

He sent for a doctor, and you wished he hadn't. You only picked one word out of his visit- pregnant.

You recalled Hans' comment about how your "hips would birth beautiful babies". It had been one of the last things he ever said to you.

What would he say if he were here now?

You managed to leave the penthouse to attend a memorial.

People came from all over the world to pay their respects. He was a largely feared but genuinely respected man, and many sharp dressed visitors gave you their condolences. You couldn't recall ever seeing any of them before.

None of these people know him like I do. Like I did...

After the service, you broke down in the penthouse bathroom. You had been so numb since Christmas, but the combination of the closure of the memorial and hormones from your pregnancy sent you spiraling with grief.

You wept over the sink countertop, remembering the fond exchange you had shared during your last night together. A flash of red caught your eye. It was the small gift bag he had given you- you hadn't yet taken the locket off, you couldn't bear removing such a heavy reminder of him- and the poetry book was tucked away with your bags.

The envelope. Hans gave me an envelope.

The parchment was still tucked inside of the bag. You pulled it out, hesitant to disturb the red "G" seal. It was perfect and beautiful. Just like him.

"Promise me you won't open it until Christmas," he had said.

It is definitely well past Christmas.

You sobbed as you pulled a red letter out of the envelope. The margins were embossed with delicate floral designs, and his handwriting covered the entire page. You held it close to your heart before daring to read it.

Darling,

If you are reading this, I must be gone. I have never been one for sentiment, but while setting the last of my affairs in order, I came to realize that I value YOU above anything (and everything) else. This job has been planned for quite a while now, but the closer it gets, the more I think I would love nothing more than to elope with you and forget the money. Business calls, however, and I must put my work first. I know you will despair- I have seen the way you look at me. I fail to comprehend what it is you're looking at- how a woman so loveable and pure as you could love a wretched soul like mine beats the best of me. You have taught me more about the world than the sum of my education and travels combined. Your gentle empathy astounds me far more than any literary work I have yet to come across. Seeing you dance carelessly in my kitchen is worth more to me than seats to the finest ballet. Moments with you are those that I cherish the most in life. I will be thinking of you on Christmas Eve. When I began planning for Nakatomi, I was greedy and reckless with nothing to lose and everything to gain. Now, I have you, and the money fails in comparison. It will be you I am retrieving those bearer bonds for. Above all, I will be praying that I make it home to spend Christmas Day with you. I love you.

I love you, I love you, I love you. I cannot say it enough.

For better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness in health, I love you, my darling.

Till death do us part,

Hans Gruber

P.S. one last time- I love you.