Reflections of the choices

Chapter sixteen

"Think I forgot how to be happy

Something I'm not, but something I can be

Something I wait for

Something I'm made forWhat was I made for?"

"What Was I Made For?" by Billie Eilish

Their journey through France was like a slow dance, each step accompanied by caution and unspoken emotions. They moved from one small town to another, passing picturesque villages and well-tended fields where peasants worked from early morning till late at night. France welcomed them with the scents of fresh bread, the sounds of bustling markets, and quiet conversations in a foreign language. Initially, their journey seemed bright and promising, but it soon became clear that the weight of the past and unspoken words still hung between them like a heavy fog.

Benedict often chose the most secluded routes, trying to avoid crowds and the hustle of larger cities. Meanwhile, Eloise sought out opportunities to talk to the locals, learn their stories, and for a moment feel like part of something bigger than just an endless search. They moved without a clear plan, sometimes losing their way and spontaneously changing routes. Despite their independence, each of them felt the need for the other's support, even if pride prevented them from openly admitting it.

One warm morning, with the sun gently warming the old cobblestone streets, Benedict sat at a small table on the terrace of their lodging. Before him were a cup of tea and a fresh croissant, and he held a sketchbook in his hands, drawing casually. His thoughts wandered somewhere between France and London, and for a moment, he forgot everything, immersed in the peaceful silence.

Eloise entered the room, her steps quick and determined, as always when she was preoccupied with something. She looked fresh and full of energy, though it was clear her thoughts were far away.

"Good morning!" she said brightly, sitting down opposite him. "I hope you're ready to move on. This town was charming, but I think it's time we kept going."

Benedict looked up from his sketchbook, casting a glance full of affection and mild irritation at his sister.

"Eloise, could you just relax for once?" he said gently, not wanting to start an argument. "Not every moment needs to be lived on the move. There's something calming about silence."

Eloise waved his words away, her expression becoming more serious.

"I don't like silence," she cut him off, trying not to meet his eyes.

Benedict raised his eyebrows in surprise, studying his sister with mild puzzlement.

"Since when?" he asked, incredulously. "You used to always seek solitude to read or think things through. You were the one who loved quiet corners of the garden and early morning hours alone with books."

Eloise turned away, her gaze focused on the distance where the rooftops of French houses surrounded by green fields were visible. She bit her lip, struggling to find the right words.

"That was before," she said more softly than usual, her voice barely audible, as if she feared loud words would shatter her defenses.

Benedict, sensing that something deeper was behind her words, moved closer, his face showing concern.

"Eloise, what's going on?" he asked, his tone gentle but anxious.

Eloise took a deep breath, as if mustering courage, and finally decided to speak.

"Silence for me now is a symbol of loneliness," she confessed, her eyes filling with tears she struggled to hold back. "Since I got married, I thought I'd find support in marriage, that I would finally be part of something bigger. But I never imagined you could feel even lonelier in marriage than ever before."