My Only Person

Filler Chapter - 6

Clarissa's POV

After spending one more day at our current location, we flew to our next destination.

Dressed in matching all-black couple clothes, we walked hand-in-hand into the theatre. An usher guided us to our private box seats on the top floor. Theodore had even bought the neighbouring box seats for added privacy.

Sitting next to each other, we held hands and enjoyed the play. Naturally, I had chosen it, so the main theme of the play was romance.

I was fully immersed in the performance and, midway through, I remarked, spellbounded, "Isn't the actress beautiful!"

"Hm."

"She-" I began, turning to him to say something about her character, but I found him already staring at me. His purple gaze was steady and focused, swirling with a mysterious emotion.

My whole face heated up, so I turned my attention back to the stage, saying the first thing that came to mind in a desperate attempt to distract myself, "Isn't the hero hot?"

There was silence, and I felt his stare shift from me to the stage before I heard him speak. "You think so?" His voice, unlike before sounded hard and bitter.

"Yes," I nodded, still admiring the hero. "Especially when he took off his shirt because he was sweating, and the heroine caught sight of it, causing her to both be shy and charmed! The way she hid to peek at him, and he deliberately flexed his muscles knowing she was looking at him. Oh my god, we got our money's worth!"

"He is...just average."

I looked at him, adamantly refusing to agree. "No, he is handsome."

His jaw tightened. "He is plain ugly."

Observing him for a moment, I laughed. He's probably jealous.

Pushing my face back to the front, he rested his head on my shoulder and said, "Let me know when it's over."

I silently laughed to myself, adjusting so my head was leaning against his. We didn't step out during the intermission and spent time talking with each other. Soon, the curtain rose for the final act.

My legs had gone numb from sitting in one place for three hours. So, when we finally stepped out in the corridor after the play was over, Theodore held me and helped me walk like I was a child taking their first steps.

I clung to him tightly, my face smeared with tears.

"Why are you crying so much? The production wasn't that bad," he said, offering me his handkerchief.

My tears wouldn't stop, and his heartless words irritated me more. "It's not that! They loved each other so much but they couldn't be together in the end!" I burst out crying again attracting people's attention.

Theodore started rubbing my shoulders, trying to comfort me, but I felt so sad.

"I-I thought what if it was us..."

The story began with the hero and heroine meeting and falling deeply in love as if it was predestined. The hero was soon called for war, leaving with a solemn promise to return and marry her. Only, he never does; his empty casket returns, not even his body. While the hero was at war, she didn't despair, kept optimistic, prayed fervently, and busied herself with volunteer work at the hospital. She dreamt endlessly of their reunion, envisioning the day they would finally exchange their vows. She meticulously counted the days and weeks, waiting while holding onto the stone ring he had carved himself.

News soon reached their small village. Their country had won but at what cost?

Despite the great victory, her grief was insurmountable. She was so devastated, like many other loved ones of fallen soldiers, that she lost the will to continue living. As appetite and sleep deserted her, she gradually withered away, and soon passed under the same stars where they had promised to spend the rest of their lives together.