(September 1789)

As the sun sank low in the sky and she gazed at the horizon, a familiar phrase—a phrase that had been whispered softly into her ear so long ago—came back to her mind, for the first time. It had been quite unintended, but there was something about that night, something that just seemed to spark the memory that would haunt her.

Wait for me underneath the starlight...

And she had. Mainly because she had to. She'd been ordered to go out to meet this intriguing stranger nightly, so she could discover the elusive secrets that he hid, the secrets that disappeared with him at the end of the day. But, as the days went on and as the crisp fall nights morphed into winter, she went for another reason.

She was falling in love with him.

Someone had once told her that when you can't have something, you want it more than you would if it was obtainable. That was exactly how she'd felt. It no longer mattered that she was engaged to another man, or that she was keeping up with those late night rendezvous to bring about the destruction of the one she was visiting. She began to care more about him than anything else in her life, and those meetings were practically what kept her alive.

Then came that night in late December... alas, that bittersweet night.

A smile began to spread across her face as she remembered all that had happened. Oh, it was certainly unforgettable. That memory would always last in her mind. If she would lose all of her memories the next day except one, she wouldn't want to forget what had happened on that night. It'd been perfect. But the very next day--twenty four insane hours later what had been heaven abruptly became hell. The worst part was that it was all her fault. If anyone was to blame, it would be her.

She'd cried for hours on end, feeling so extremely sorry for what she'd done. He was gone now, and she was responsible for that. It was enough to make her wish nothing but the worse for herself. It was enough for her to wish she would die an awful and brutal death. At the time, anything seemed better than living with the guilt of being responsible for the near-death of an innocent man, the man she'd loved.

Gradually, she'd managed to stop grieving, and wondered if he would return. If not for her, just to remember what his past had been like. For a month, she'd kept vigil, and gone out by that pond to watch for him. She waited each night, from the moment the stars first began to glimmer in the sky until they grew dimmed by the rising sun. She didn't sleep simply because she wanted him to come back, because she needed him to come back.

But he never did.

Finally, after weeks and weeks of doing this, she gave up. He wasn't coming back. As much and as badly as she needed him by her side, he wasn't going to return. No matter how it tore her up inside, he wouldn't come back.

It'd been two years since she'd last seen him, yet she could remember every detail about his presence. She remembered the pitch of his voice, she remembered how he kissed her... but her most vivid memory of him was that of his eyes. God, she'd loved his eyes. They were so intense, so deep that you could drown in them. And she remembered how she had gazed lovingly and longingly into those eyes, feeling as if she could stare deep into the depths of his soul by looking into them. They could try and take away every other thing that could serve as a memory of him, but those memories would always stay with her.

And so would the ring.

Yet, despite that, there was one reminder left. Granted, it caused the most controversy and scandal of the events of those years before, but it was the solitary thing that she took the most pride in. As she walked from the parlor of the expansive manor, she could hear the soft sound of a baby cooing. She gently opened the door, and walked to the small bed where the child lay.

She picked the baby up, and gently kissed her forehead. She knew that someday the little girl would be full of questions. She'd want to know why she didn't look like her siblings. She'd want to know why she had such erratic sleeping habits. She'd want to know why her mother always got somewhat depressed every year around Christmas. And although no one would want her to know the truth, or they would try to taint it with horrid lies, she would tell her. She would deserve to know the truth.

Despite that, one thing still plagued her mind. She knew that she'd caused him hurt. She had claimed that she loved him, yet she had betrayed him. But, if there was somehow for her to right her wrongs, she wanted to do so. And as she sat in the darkness of the room, the baby cradled in her arms, she made a vow.

"I won't die until I can apologize for every horrible thing I ever did to him. I will see him again in another lifetime, and I will be with him."