The Wolf Ballet || WW2

27. The Wolf Ballet

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Seeing someone you presumed dead—no, rather lost had Ophelia feeling at odds with the peace she was forced to falsely live by. Having faced Anita Wojciechowski was like seeing a shadow left behind by a past life. An unclear figure of a country that Ophelia was coerced to leave behind in the wake of its ashes. It followed Anita, as she too was unable to let go of the life before Shoah.

Only Ophelia felt this was not the Anita she had once shared a stage with. No, she felt different.

Stuck in a bewildered daze, Ophelia softly shook her head. And lowered her chin to hide behind her resting her arm. Sitting in front of the fireplace of Ivan's apartment—a night had turned chilly. She prayed Anita was alright.

"How about those flowers? I assumed they were pleasant," She heard Ivan mention from the couch. His glasses slid down his face as he looked down on the old ledgers he had gotten from the auction house.

Ophelia sighed, keeping herself low face within her arched knees.

"Yes, yes, they were lovely," Ophelia admitted, not exactly enthusiastic about her day. Her mind kept shifting back to Anita. She feared her worries would only haunt her in the coming days. She needed answers, she wanted to know what had come of the eldest Wojciechowski girl.

Their encounter was brief, and she hadn't exactly been received with open arms. Ultimately after reality had set itfr Anita, Ophelia was turned away,

"After everything that has happened, you still find it in your character to patronize me,"

Words that left Ophelia hurt and confused. She didn't think Anita's resentment towards her ran so deep. Unlike Olga and Petra—Anita truly didn't want anything to do with her. Ophelia would not find fault in her for it, however. Anyone she came close to often got lost in this war.

"Then why such a long face?" Ivan asked lifting his glasses as he finally raised his head from his work. He seemed genuinely concerned, and Ophelia debated on telling him. She wanted nothing more to address her worries and her troubles, as she had grown to trust him but she knew it would only cause unnecessary burden. She didn't have the heart to tell him that she ran into someone she knew from the company.

Someone that knew who she was—who had met her while she was still Ophelia.
It would make no sense for Anita to ever expose her, as she too was living a separate life outside of Poland. Nevertheless, Ophelia would leave the chance to God.

Pulling her gaze away, Ophelia looked back at the flickering ball of fire. Her face was painted yellow and red as the fire grew larger and larger with the excess wind.

"I was just saddened to discover they had no red roses..."

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March 23rd, 1940
Berlin, Germany
202 days since the start of the war

Ophelia looked out from the passenger window as the top views of the apartment buildings began to fade behind the hedges of trees. With the war's progression outside of Poland, many countries have now declared their threats of retaliation against the German capital. The Germans were already on their way towards the Norway shores. Ivan predicted that the British would be the one to counter an attack on the Germans but nothing was for certain. It mainly upset Ophelia just how deeply the Nazis managed to bury their troops in Europe. She feared it wouldn't be long before they headed for France.