Maria, a married Frenchwoman living in Nazi-occupied Hautmont in the Second World War, is in need of a unique kind of love. Who would've thought that uniquely forbidden love comes in the form of a devilishly handsome Nazi Lieutenant?
(Inspired by Su...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
~
Maria
June, 1940
Hautmont, France
* * * * * *
I WAKE UP slowly, feeling overwhelmed by the emptiness in my stomach. Peeling my eyes open proves difficult, so I nuzzle my head further into the pillow under my head. The only smell surrounding me was the faint aroma of musk, which was strangely familiar to me.
My body freezes up when I hear a door open gingerly, and it's at that point that I realise I'm in my bedroom at home. I knew this because the tune of the sticking hinges was the exact same as the one belonging to my bedroom door. And I now also knew where the musky smell was coming from; it was Otto's smell. The only reason I knew this was because I'd come to realise his natural smell was very strong; the hallways in my house had started to smell musky ever since he'd been billeted to live with me.
"She was at the house?" a familiar feminine voice comes from the hallway outside my room. I keep my eyes sealed shut; I knew the door was still open, so feared I'd disturb the conversation if it was known that I was awake. "What was she doing there?"
"It wasn't her fault, Margo," I hear Otto whisper, his usually velvety voice sounding strained. "I don't have a clue what she was doing there. I saw her and I just—"
"I know, I know," the feminine voice consoles Otto, and I instantly recognise it as belonging to Margo Dubois. Edythe's harrowing words from yesterday come flooding back into my mind like a tidal wave: "You'll find him there, probably with Margo Dubois. I've heard he likes her very much, so at least we know it's clear that he's got a thing for Frenchwomen."
I didn't know why, but it was at that point that I turned over onto my side, my back facing the door, and felt a single, burning tear roll down my cheek.
"I think she's starting to stir," Otto tells Margo desperately, his voice sounding a fraction closer than it was before. "You'd best go, before the curfew. Be careful."
After I hear the front door click to a shut downstairs, making it clear that Margo Dubois was finally out of my house, I feel my bed dip at my feet, and turn back onto my other side, opening my eyes to look at Otto.
His pale blue eyes were gazing down at my face with worry, and when I noticed a fresh, purple bruise plastered on his cheekbone, I felt a sudden urge to sit up and embrace him tightly. I fought against this urge, though, and decided to be stubborn; I regarded him with a blank stare, piercing holes into his perfect skull with my eyes.
