WARNING: this story is completely historically inaccurate!
I've never posted a fic before, so I hope you guys will enjoy this!
She remembered distinctly the burning feeling of the lump in her throat when she heard those words; those words that hit her harder than anyone could possibly punch. She remembered every detail of that memory. Every little thing she felt, as well as every little thing she hadn't felt. Thirteen words exactly. Elizaveta was not one for superstitions, but at that moment, thirteen, the number of words in that one sentence that destroyed her, was the most unlucky thing in the world.
But then again, was it luck at all?
Luck played no roll in this story. It was simply foolishness. Foolishness, and a lack of ability to realize the truth. The truth that Roderich was not truely the one she loved after all; the truth that there was someone else who truely cared for her; someone else who had always been there for her, even when she was not always there for him. She had failed to see the truth in that he had secrertly loved her all those years. All those years, he had secretly loved her, and yet he never said a word. All those years she had failed to see that she loved him back, and only after he was gone did she realized these truths she had failed to recognize before.
She remembered walking down the white hallways on her was to see him, with a horrible cloud of guilt looming above her head. She should have gone to see him sooner. She would have gone to see him sooner, had she heard the news of his condition at an earlier time, and she would have heard of his condition at an earlier time, had she not been so caught up in the tragety of her divorce and feeling sorry for herself
...but there was worse tragety to come.
He must have thought she didn't care about him, or whether he lived or died, but that wasn't the case at all. She had finally realized that she loved him. She had finally realized her feelings for him, and that all these years he had had feelings for her as well. How could she not have seen it? It was so obvious! At times, quite literally right in her face. She needed to tell him that she was in love with him. She could hear her pace quickening as her shoes softly clicked against the tile floor. She needed to see him. She needed to tell him everything and relieve herself of the guilt that clung to her and haunted her like a ghost. Why hadn't someone told her he had been hospitalized? Why hadn't he said something himself? They hadn't spoken in weeks, maybe months. Did he think that she--
Elizaveta stopped her thoughts. She was in front of the room number she had been told he was in. The door was open, so she walked in, expecting to find him there.
Instead, there was a young nurse cleaning up the room who looked like she was in her early twenties. "Excuse me, miss, may I help you?" she asked sweetly.
"Uhm, yes. I'm looking for Gilbert Beilschmidt. I was told this is his room."
The nurses face was blank for a moment, as though she recognized the name, but was trying to think of the person.
"I'm terribly sorry for your loss, miss, but I'm afraid he's passed away."
Thirteen words.
Aah! I'm sorry! Short crappy prologue is short and crappy... :
I promise the actual story will be better~! DDX
