In the final week of the von Badens' stay in Brindleton Bay—after much insistence from young Heinrich—he received his father’s permission to visit the Darlington's residency and surprise his friend Violet. Their friendship had blossomed over shared letters and her occasional visits to the Griffith estate, but soon it would exist solely through the careful script of pen and paper; Heinrich was returning to Windenburg now that his father’s business in Brindleton Bay had been settled.
It was a quiet winter’s day, calm after a long spell of stormy weather, when Violet and Heinrich strolled through the frost-laden gardens of the property. A gentle hush lay over the world, and the air seemed to hold a promise of renewal beneath its blanket of white. As they walked, Violet confessed her love for winter—the stillness, the pale landscape, and the way it seemed to hold the potential for new beginnings, even when everything appeared so lifeless. Heinrich looked at her with a thoughtful expression and asked, “Do you believe in promises?”
The question was simple, but Violet felt it carried a hidden weight. She barely hesitated before replying, "Yes. I take promises very seriously. They're not a trivial matter to me."
He paused, searching her face, before venturing, “Then... would you promise, with me, that our bond won’t fade? That it won’t weaken, even when I’m gone?”
“What do you mean?” she asked, her voice a delicate whisper against the winter air. Her heart hammered against her ribs, suddenly faster, and she feared he might hear it.
Instead of answering right away, Heinrich took her hand, guiding her to a spot where they both stood amidst the snow. Reaching into his coat, he carefully pulled out a single rose, the deep crimson of its petals a stark contrast against the pale world around them. Violet stood frozen, her gaze flitting from the rose to Heinrich, uncertainty mingling with a rush of excitement. Was she misreading this? Was he truly…?
Heinrich took a steadying breath, his expression solemn yet tinged with youthful shyness as he held her gaze. “I like you, Violet,” he said quietly. “When I came here, I expected an unpleasant trip—one that would be strange and uncomfortable. I’m not used to leaving my world behind, nor am I used to getting to know people in an easy way. But you… you’ve made everything different.”
He looked down for a moment, gathering his thoughts, before continuing. “I’ve met plenty of people society calls ‘extraordinary,’ but for the first time, I’ve felt that about someone myself. You showed me that sometimes being extraordinary isn’t about grand talents or achievements—it can be about playing the violin with devotion, or being so eager to learn a stranger’s language just to make him feel more at home. It’s about not being afraid to be a little unconventional.”
She looked at him, her eyes bright, and for a moment, the color of the world seemed to flood back into her vision, filling her senses. Is this what it meant to be seen, to be truly noticed? She felt each nerve alight, alive with the understanding of how easy it might be to become addicted to this feeling.
Heinrich extended his hand, his voice tender. “Do you understand what I’m saying, or… am I getting carried away?”
Violet blinked, her mouth lifting in a soft smile. “It seems I’m at a loss for words. That’s not a small feat, let me tell you that.”
A light chuckle escaped him, and he dared to ask, “So… may I take that as a yes?”
She nodded, barely able to contain her smile. “Yes, you may.”
He grinned, a flicker of triumph warming his cheeks, and then his expression softened. “I know we’re young, but… I’ll return, Violet. I’ll come back to ask you this again.”
She looked at him, her voice gentle with only the slightest tremor, “You won’t change your mind, then?”
Without hesitation, he replied, “Not in a thousand winters.” The conviction in his voice made her heart skip, and she couldn’t suppress a quiet laugh.
They spent the rest of the afternoon talking about everything and nothing, sharing fragments of their worlds in both their languages. Their hands found each other’s from time to time, their connection undeterred by the strictures of propriety, sheltered by their youth from the weight of society’s gaze. They both sensed, without saying it, that things would be different when they met again; that the playful freedom of their childhood might give way to something more restrained, something grown.
When Otto arrived to collect Heinrich, Violet thought she had steeled herself well enough to keep her feelings hidden. But Heinrich saw the sadness lingering on her face and, in a voice filled with gentle assurance, reminded her, “We made a promise, remember? I’ll make sure you’re not left without a correspondent to practice your Windenburgian with.”
Forcing a smile, she nodded, their shared promise lingering between them, like the final note of a song that had yet to end. They said their goodbyes with the bittersweet melancholy of youth, a silent understanding that they’d carry this day with them through whatever years lay ahead.