It hadn't always been like this. The empty feeling hadn't always been there. Once upon a time her life had been rich and full. Vibrant with love, and the vivacious energy of the other woman. But now it was just her, alone.
Despite the many whispered promises, after Cosima's death, Delphine had been unable to stay in contact with her sisters. It was simply to difficult to be around these women, who were so much of Cosima, but never as tangible. To her they simply felt like chariactures of her lover. She'd tormented herself, and stayed for months, crawling more inside of herself with every interaction. She didn't want to be this way, and so she left.
She packed her bags, and she left. Back to Paris. Back to start a new life. Again.
By now Delphine was good at reinventing herself. In her short life, she'd been so many different versions of herself, more than she ever wanted to think about. And what was left was a mere shell of what she'd been before.
She had gone into it empty, with no expectation, to get closer to Cosima, to learn her secrets, tug on her strings like a master puppeteer. But with every moment Cosima had filled her up, drawn her in and drawn her out. Every kiss, and every stolen glance, every whispered I love you had shaped Delphine more into the kind of person she wanted to be. Before there'd been a coldness to her. A composure, sure, a control, yes. But she was never happy.
Cosima had changed that.
Cosima had changed everything.
Cosima, with her throaty laugh, and her almost crushing enthusiasm. Cosima, who made Delphine feel more alive than she ever had before. Cosima who made her want to be better. Cosima who filled Delphine up with even her final breath. Cosima who was everything.
And they had tried so hard, all of them. They had done everything. Countless hours spent in labs, sleepless nights coloured with desperation. Delphine had done everything she could, but it wasn't enough, and one night in November Cosima had slipped away from her.
Delphine had slipped away too. When she left for Paris, she hadn't told the others. She couldn't bring herself to. She'd stolen away in the night, leaving only a note, hoping the others would find it, and understand all the words she couldn't say.
I'm so sorry.