Things were difficult at first, just as they were expected to be. Awkward moments occasionally came and went as they had been in the earliest days of our marriage, and others were drenched in sharp rage, followed by the cool forgiveness of love.

But we still found ways of happiness with one another. Roderich had been correct. If our adorations could survive such a powerful schism, then we could face any kind of evil.

Gilbert no longer sent me letters, trinkets, or even the occasional photograph. I was nearly crushed to little pulpy sections, but as I should have from the start, I swallowed my despairs and duties as bitter medicine, usually with tears illuminating my eyes.

At times, I would yearn to see him, and was given a bit of comfort from Roderich, who knew exactly why I was writhing in my emotional upset. He never bothered with prying. I was simply held as kisses found a place upon my brow and fingers wiped away those burning droplets.

Some part of him always remained with me, however. A character such as Gilbert Weillschmidt could never be erased, even by something as overbearing as time.

Secretly, I would wish for an instance of meeting, but accepted that I was simply bound to another by heavy chains that would likely remain a long duration. I decided to allow such childish things alone, and gave them up, even if it did bring me discomfort within my core.

But despite those little pains and occasional fights, we adored one another and were ecstatic to be in one another's very presences. There were times when words didn't even need to be utilized. I could nearly read that man's thoughts as words written inside a journal.

We were wed fifty-one years…

Our hearts had grown so fondly together, the mere mention of divorce simply didn't register correctly.

It was something intangible.

When Roderich told me we had lost the war, as well as our marriage, it felt as if the entire world and all its weight had grinded my bones flat.

"Well…You'll allow me to visit, won't you?"

"Darling…You'll be required to visit for at least months at a time." We stared at one another a long moment, thoughts transferred between us as signals through a wire. "…Elizaveta, what are we going to do?"

"I don't know…fifty-one years is quite a long time…I'm not sure if I can even function without you at my side…"

"I know…It'll be like walking without legs."

"Well…I'll come for months at a time…Who knows, love? Perhaps you can visit me…"

"Perhaps I will."

And depressing smiles were exchanged.

As we went to sign those awful papers, we dressed ourselves in our wedding garments, which had become antique under the weight of those weighty fifty-one summers. Our arms were connected at the elbows, and as we walked, it was almost as if there would be no divorce. Instead, wedding bells should have ringed loudly and with clear tones. I was almost convinced it was our wedding day; our feet moving down those long corridors, unchanged even after all that time had come and gone. We spoke softly as old friends, nearly oblivious as to what would come.

But even though our marriage was broken, no piece of paper could even lay a scratch upon our affections. It's truly ridiculous, as if we were expected to simply fall out of love the moment our names touched that ugly dotted line.

But even years after that day in 1918, we behaved as married people, so buttery in one another's treatment. I strongly held to my heart the belief that Roderich was a sort of soul mate, the kind that obligations written on weak pieces of parchment could never even attempt to tarnish.

For the longest time, I felt as if I had been a slave to my fate, the unluckiest woman placed upon the earth's soil…But I had been blessed. I was given a man who I couldn't leave and who was incapable of leaving me. I harnessed the opportunity to scream the truth, "I adore my husband," which so many women are never able to even speak without the taste of a lie upon their tongues.

Even when tragedy struck as a lightning bolt with intent to murder, whether it be war or forced 'separation', we remained together as two links within a diamond chain, unbreakable regardless of how aggressively it is thrown upon the ground.