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❁ུ۪۪
Nighttime covered the city in secrecy, the final hours of the day withering away. Marjorie and Heinrich's time together, like all things, had been limited. It was a ticking detonator, an uncovered landmine, and they had to let it explode. Fragments of broken hearts would lodge into them like shrapnel, forging permanent scars.
Edwin, caring as he was, had driven out to take them to the coast instead of sleeping. The cramped vehicle rumbled along as Marjorie reflected upon the previous few months. She wanted to go back to when they had no worries about the war—until she realized that there was never such a moment. Every day had at least a sliver of worry, thoughts of the looming threat oozing into their minds. "It's not fair," she muttered, arms crossed in frustrated defiance.
"I know, but I have to do this. If I don't, and they require me to join, then my mother..."
"Why is it always about her? Didn't you leave her to come here?" Apprehension bubbled like a pot of water filled to the brim, the short-temperedness of fatigue prominent behind Marjorie's words.
Heinrich sighed as Edwin shifted uncomfortably. "That doesn't mean that I'm no longer related to her. I've told you this, I have to."
"So you're choosing her over me, then?"
The question seemed to tighten the atmosphere, stoppering time in a tiny glass vial.
"That's not what I meant, and you know it." Only the faintest flickers of anger were alight. "You think I'd leave you if I didn't have to?"
Marjorie stuttered. "Is that not what you're doing? I'm not daft, Heinrich." Her once-gentle eyes were suddenly filled with ire and forlorn tears.
"No, God, no! It's not what I'm doing at all! Please, just look at the bigger picture. With so much going on, I don't have a choice. You can't possibly believe that I would ever want to abandon you!" Every syllable conveyed the lacerated wounds that resided beneath his skin.
"I—do you guys need..." Edwin's sentence tapered off wearily as he decided it was wisest to remain silent.
His interruption was disregarded anyways. "I'm sorry," placated Marjorie. "I've made this about me. I know that, were I in your position, I would have to do the same. It isn't right for me to blame you."
The car stopped at the coast, light grains of sand compressing under their feet as they traversed the area. "Don't apologize. None of this will ever be easy—for either of us. I never intended for this to happen."
Squinting to see a boat, tethered to the nearby dock, fate became much more tactile to Marjorie. There were no more opportunities for reconsideration, nor was there any possibility that Heinrich would stay.
"I wish I could stay here with you forever," he reiterated. She nodded sedately. "I'm serious, Marjorie. I... I love you."
She froze, her blood turned to ice and her face pale. "Really?"
