love her. ( accepting!! )
it’s sudden. her husband tells her, first thing in the morning, that they’ll be leaving paris tomorrow — he’s finished with the portraits he was commissioned to do, and of course he has no idea of her reasons to wish to stay. richard is as old and oblivious as always ; they hardly even talk anymore, their only connection through the legalities of the bonds of marriage, nothing more. the news sends maria into a frantic state, rushing to write a letter to thomas, explaining that she’ll be leaving, that she’ll miss him. please, don’t forget to write. signs it yours ever. it’s the most forward she’s ever been in print — though maria has no problems showing romance in person, her confidence in her writing is where she dwindles.
it’s an hour before she can flee to thomas’ house, across the city, and knock on his door, scarf pulled tight around her shoulders. she greets him with a smile on her face as always, and if a hint of sadness shows on her face, neither of them mention it. she doesn’t tell him of her impending departure. better to enjoy the last day they have, with the man who’s loved her far better than her own husband could ever manage. perhaps, in another life, she would divorce richard, wed thomas instead — but she cannot bring shame to her family’s name with a divorce, and she knows thomas is still grieving his late wife. in another life, though. perhaps they could have been happy.
they talk for hours and hours, until the sun lowers outside the window, painting everything in the last golden tendrils of daylight, and she must leave. he doesn’t know it’s their last goodbye, but the kiss she gives him has a finality to it. she holds him a little too tightly as she drags him down to her height, a deep, lingering kiss pressed against his lips. breath mingles as she hovers there after they part, eyes still closed, unwilling to see the reality that this is likely the last time she’ll see him. god, they’ve only shared a few months together, such a short time to fall so deeply in love.
❝ hai conquistato il mio cuore, ❞ she whispers, the intimacy of her natural language seemingly fitting for the moment. you have won my heart. a forced smile as tears prick her eyes, one last peck to his lips, and then she turns around. the letter is left on his table — she couldn’t bear to tell him aloud that this is their last meeting. better for him to find it later ; to miss her, maybe, once she’s left.
