Three Means 1

Apologies

    Dulce straightened her clothes and fixed her posture. She was uncomfortable with the thought of any questions arising, any that she wouldn't be willing to answer, but the smell of berries and tea was warming her inside.

    "Please sit," Pierre said, extending his arm toward the chair next to Dulce. She noticed he was telling Arthur to sit beside her, but instead, he chose the one across from her. That decision didn't make her think twice about his intentions, whether they were meant to hurt or not; perhaps he just wanted to look at her.

    She did not utter a word, just returned the looks he was giving her. His eyes were soft, and his eyebrows relaxed. That gave her relief.

"I apologize for my drunken state; I will never drink again at such an important event," Pierre interjected, acknowledging his previous actions. He had been driven by jealousy, a consuming emotion that tormented him. He had chosen the seat next to Dulce, trying to conceal his inner turmoil behind a facade of remorse.

    "Ne t'inquiète pas. Mon père est ivrogne donc je sais exactement comment les gens peuvent l'être," Arthur responded.

    (Translation: my dad is a drunk so I know exactly how people can get.)

Pierre wanted to yell. He was acutely aware that he was not merely inebriated; his actions were fueled by a deeper, more insidious emotion: jealousy. He gripped the sides of his chair, a forced smile playing on his lips as he battled the urge to voice his true feelings.

"Yes, I apologize for the little scene that was made. Of course, Pierre wasn't in his right state of mind. I hope we were no trouble at all," Dulce apologized, hoping to learn more about people's reactions.

"Oh no, it was no trouble at all. I just wish you wouldn't have grabbed her the way you did. Some people complained about you carrying Dulce over your shoulder against her will. They said she was kicking and yelling," Arthur remarked, his voice tinged with the remnants of the indignation he had felt. Though he had excused Pierre's behavior, attributing it to drunkenness, the sting of the earlier affront lingered.

    Pierre's gaze fell to the floor, shame coloring his features. He was acutely aware of the wrongness of his actions, a guilt that gnawed at him from within, leaving him feeling dirty and unworthy.

    Dulce observed him keenly, sensing the shift in his demeanor, and felt her heart plummet. She didn't want him to think he was some strange brute who had forced anything upon her. Deep down, though she wouldn't admit it to his face or even to herself, her heart skipped beats for him and for anything he did.

    Beneath the tablecloth, she tenderly placed her hand over his, which clung tightly to the chair's edges, offering a silent reassurance.

    He met her gaze instantly.

    "And, for that, I apologize. It won't happen again, I can assure you that," he said, slightly shaking his hand so that hers would fall off.

    Dulce rolled her eyes, unwilling to entertain the notion of his rejection. Arthur noticed her subtle gesture and interjected without hesitation. "Do you not accept his apology, Dulce?" he asked, drawing her back to the present moment.

Pierre observed her, an amused glint in his eyes, awaiting her response.

"Oh, I do. Just-" She stopped herself from continuing her original statement. She didn't want to create a scene or further complicate matters. She mustered a soft smile and continued, trying to ease the tension.

    "Of course, Pierre. Your apology is accepted," she replied, her tone carefully measured. "Let us move beyond this incident and enjoy the remainder of the evening, shall we?"

A subtle sigh escaped Pierre. He recognized Dulce's facade, yet he couldn't shake the guilt that gnawed at him for his unseemly behavior earlier. He yearned to prove himself, to demonstrate that he was more than his base emotions.

    "Your forgiveness is greatly appreciated, Dulce," he murmured, though his words carried a tinge of sarcasm.

As the conversation shifted towards lighter topics, Dulce hoped this incident wouldn't cast a lasting shadow over their growing connection. She kept dazing off into wet daydreams about the little session her and Pierre had not even an hour ago.

    Angelo, bearing an array of delightful desserts on exquisite glass trays, made a graceful entrance into the room. With careful precision, he arranged the sweet offerings before the guests, taking his seat beside Pierre.

    "So, who emerged victorious?" Angelo asked, skillfully dispelling the tense atmosphere.

    "That information is unknown to me, since I left early. I had to make sure this beautiful lady was safe." Arthur responded, attempting to explain his premature departure.

    The utterance of those words struck a dissonant chord within Pierre. Doubts and insecurities clawed at him. "Why wouldn't she be safe around me? Did he imply I pose a threat to her? Does he think I'm some predatory freak?" The tumultuous thoughts clamored for release, yet Pierre restrained himself, fearful of saying his thoughts out loud.

    In the realm of uncanny coincidences, Angelo's words seemed to align with the unspoken fears that gnawed at Pierre's conscience.

"Oh, she was safe, alright." Angelo chimed in, adopting a light-hearted tone that left lingering questions in its wake.