Disclaimer: Downton Abbey and its characters belong to Julian Fellowes.


The air was painful. Every time he took a deep breath he felt like he was drowning. He felt like life was bidding him goodbye with no intentions of coming back…and in a way that's exactly what was happening, but in this particular case, he was the one turning his back and walking away from everything that kept him alive.

He had left her there. Crying, alone…in despair. He heard as she sobbed and instead of taking her in his arms and kissing her tears and pain away he continued walking. He left her in the darkness, together with his own soul. A darkness that would follow both of them as a tormenting shadow, replaying promises that would never come true.

Now, he sat on his bed. Downcast and hands on his lap, palms upward, almost as if praying. He watched them with devoted attention, as if the answer to his troubles could be found there, but he saw nothing but the fading lines of a destiny that he didn't want to be part of any more. It was all wrong. This should never have happened.

His tears stained his face. His sobs dying in his throat. His thoughts filled with despair.

Tomorrow he would be going with Vera. For good. For ever.

Oh that this was all a nightmare! Maybe his mind was tricking him. Maybe he would wake up soon and Anna would be there, smiling at him, with her soft eyes and rosy cheeks, and he would kiss her and tell her how much he loved her.

But he wouldn't have that chance. Why would he? He didn't deserve her after all. He had been right all along. He could never make her happy. Why did she ever think he could? Why did she think he was good enough for her? He didn't deserve her love and respect. He didn't deserve her honour. She told him she would live in sin with him and in that moment he had never hated himself so much. Why did she believe that he was worth her devotion? He was nothing!

He cursed himself and rose from the bed, walking towards the wardrobe, flinging its doors wide with a rage that surprised even him. He took his few clothes and tossed them on bed. Tomorrow he would leave this room, never to return. If only he had left all those years ago…the suffering wouldn't have been so unbearable, for either of them.

Slowly he took his satchel from under the bed, and with time and precision, he folded every piece of clothing into it, as his tears rolled down his cheeks. He did not sob this time. He cried silently and calmly. Maybe if he cried enough he would just stop feeling altogether. Maybe his tears would wash away his emotions, all of them, even the love… he didn't need that after all.

In the end, when his bag was packed, he sat down on the bed again, the candle burnt out. He stared into the darkness through the night, until morning came, and when the first rays of sun shone through the window he took a deep breath…he would never forget her face and smile, the taste of her mouth, the softness of her cheeks…His life would only be a faint memory of unfulfilled dreams and he would love her until his dying day

'It's over.'