Warning. Melodrama ahead. There's a reason I don't write romance.

Paris, France

November 1943

I absolutely cannot continue. It is too unbearable. You know I am not one to quit easily, but even I must confess when I am beaten. There is no way Newkirk and Carter will ever learn proper French! To retaliate, I refuse to adopt their more vulgar and inane English expressions. The last one Carter tried to teach me was 'golly gee willikers'. I ask you, what does that even mean?

But, altogether, they're not bad companions. I count myself fortunate to have them with me as I wait for liberation. But pray for me, my darling baby sister, that they do not drive me crazy before then!

All my love,

Louis

Léona smiled as she set down her latest letter from Louis. She didn't know what it was, but for the past few months, his letters had been far more optimistic. Of course there was the usual grumblings about the war, the Germans, and general conditions of prison life, but there was a spark to his letters now. It was as if the flame of hope had been rekindled in his heart. He mentioned liberation more and more when, a year ago, he had abandoned the idea that it would ever happen. Perhaps it was the relatively recent arrival of the American prisoners. Léona had heard they had a 'can do' attitude about everything. Maybe it had rubbed off on her ornery brother.

Feeling a little chill, Léona got up to grab a blanket from the closet but a knock at the door stopped her short. She checked her watch. She was not expecting any visitors. And Mama would be home soon, so it couldn't be Stefan. Even after a year of seeing each other, Léona had yet to tell Mama about her secret lover. The secrecy was still as exciting now as it was then, but she couldn't keep it under wraps forever. Not when Stefan had declared he wanted to marry her, and soon.

The knocking persisted, but it wasn't the angry sort she expected from the Gestapo. Perhaps it was a 'traveler' in need to directions? No, impossible. No one knew where they lived; that would have been too dangerous.

Whoever it was, Léona had kept them waiting long enough. Steeling herself against the cold, she hurried to the door and opened it. She was surprised when Stefan pushed past her. Quickly, she closed the door and turned. He faced away from her, looking stiff.

"Stefan? Darling, why are you here? Mama will be home soon and… Is something wrong?"

Stefan took a deep breath and turned around. His face was tight and his eyes were hard. Léona had never seen him like this. It frightened her and she took a step back.

"You…" he started. He growled and made a fist before taking a breath and pointing an accusatory finger at her. "You… You are a spy."

Léona's blood turned to ice and she took another step back. "Stefan," she squeaked. She cleared her throat and tried to sound more confident when she spoke again. "Stefan, why would you say such a thing?"

"Don't try to deny it," he spat. "I cannot believe it took me this long to see. What a fool I was. A blind, stupid fool. But now I see it. I see it and I can't stop seeing it. Your little café, all the things that go on there. You are helping people escape to England, aren't you?"

A thousand thoughts ran through Léona's head. All the warnings she had imagined her mother giving rang in her ears. She had known this day would come sometime, somehow. But she had never thought it would be the love of her life who would bring it about.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Léona said sharply, suddenly feeling defiant.

"Don't lie to me!" Stefan said as he slammed his fist against the wall. Léona jumped. "I know it's true. You work for the Resistance."

Léona just stood still, raising her chin slightly as she watched him. A tense silence hung between them. "What will you do then, if you're so sure it's true?"

Stefan's face turned red and he shook with anger. "What will I do?! What can I do? I can go to the Gestapo! I can tell them what I know." He was breathing hard and Léona could see his anger rising. He no longer looked like her kind and handsome lover. He was a stranger to her. A demon. A… German.

"And then what? What will happen then, Léona?" he cried. "They will take you and your mother and your whole family and they will shoot you. Or worse."

"If you really think—"

"Shut up," Stefan said. Like lightning he closed the distance between them and grabbed her arms, digging his fingers into them painfully. "I don't want to do that," he yelled as he shook her. "I can't do that. I love you, dammit! Don't you understand, I love you."

"Stefan. Stefan, you're hurting me," Léona pleaded weakly, her defiance fleeing as quickly as it came.

Stefan loosened his grip and then pushed her away. She stumbled and caught herself against the wall. She rubbed her arms as she watched him. He moved like a caged animal as he turned his back to her and stepped forward, only to grab the couch and stop himself.

"What else can I do? I can lie when asked about suspicious activity. I can keep your secret safe; keep you safe." He looked back at her. "I can… I can turn my back on my country. Turn my back on my friends even as you and your kind plot to kill them. Did you know that yesterday, the Resistance murdered two of my comrades? Gunned them down as they were drinking coffee? Did you know that?"

Léona silently shook her head. She dared to look at him to find the anger in his eyes had turned to pain. She dropped her gaze, but the image seared into her heart causing shame and regret to wind their way around it.

"So what can I do?" Stefan asked desperately. "What can I do, Léona? Tell me, please."

Tears welled up in her eyes as her lip started to quiver. If only… There were so many 'if only's that it made Léona's head spin and she stumbled backwards until she was against the wall. Slowly she slid to the floor and buried her face into her hands.

"For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo," Stefan said softly. He shook his head, a rueful expression clouding his face. "Don't strain yourself, darling; I know what must be done."

"Please," Léona whispered. "Please, this is all my fault. At least give my family time to escape and then I will go with you to the Gestapo willingly."

"No."

Her heart, already breaking, shattered. She threw herself forward and crawled to his feet. She cared nothing for pride and dignity. She needed to save her family and her only hope was this conscience of a man whom she had once considered good. "Please! If you ever loved me, please!"

"Get up, Léona. If you ever loved me, get up." Slowly, Léona rose to her feet. She kept her gaze on the floor. Stefan reached out and grabbed her chin, lifting it so she had no choice but to meet his eyes. "So you do love me. And yet you think me a monster?"

"I don't know what to think," Léona cried as tears ran down her cheeks. Everything had happened so suddenly and her world was slipping out from beneath her feet. Stefan moved his thumb to wipe her tears.

"I've put in for a transfer."

"A transfer," Léona repeated, confused.

"To the Russian Front."

The shattered pieces of her heart turned to ice. "The Russian Front? But Stefan, you can't!"

"It's the only way," Stefan replied. "I can't turn you in, and that makes me a traitor. The only way to keep you safe and atone for that is to spill my blood in the service of the Fatherland."

"No. Stefan, no. We can figure something out. I'll—"

"There's no other way," Stefan interrupted firmly. "Now kiss me."

Léona didn't hesitate. She threw her arms around his neck and met his lips with hers, kissing him deeply. He held her tightly, pulling her so close that it seemed their bodies would become one. Their kiss, passionate and desperate, lasted an eternity and still ended all too soon. When they parted, Stefan rested his forehead against hers.

"Goodbye," he murmured tenderly. "Parting is such sweet sorrow." And without another word, he let her go and pushed past her. Léona turned at the sound of the door opening and watched him leave. As he went down the front steps, Léona saw her mother move aside to let him pass.

"Léona? Léona who was that?" Mama asked as she came into the house. "What is going on? Léona?"

Léona ignored her and rushed past her and onto the front stoop, ignoring the cold wind as it whipped through her hair and bit her skin.

"Stefan! Stefan, I love you! I love you!" she cried, not caring who heard. Let all of France know it!

Stefan, already halfway down the street, paused, but did not look back. Léona watched until he turned the corner. She stood there, numb, knowing her whole world had ended.

"Léona, what on earth is going on?" Mama demanded.

Léona's only reply was to turn and run through the house to her room. There, she threw herself onto her bed and wept bitter and heartbroken tears.

Two Weeks Later

The knock on the door didn't mean anything to Léona. She didn't care who it was. Let it be the Gestapo. Let it be the whole German army. All she knew was that it wasn't Stefan. It would never be Stefan again.

She almost didn't answer it, but she thought, if it was the Gestapo, then it would be better to face them now and receive her punishment.

She opened it to find a young man in a German uniform. He quickly pulled off his side cap and nodded. "Are you Léona LeBeau?" he asked. Léona didn't answer; she just looked at him blankly.

"I… Well, I'm a friend of Stefan."

Not even hearing his name changed the emptiness she felt. It filled her with neither delight nor dread.

The young man cleared his throat nervously and rocked on his heels. "I'm going to assume you're Léona. Stefan showed me your picture once and you look exactly like the girl in it so…" Still Léona said nothing. "Anyway, he said… I should give you this if he ever… you know… died…" He twisted his face into a grimace. "He should have asked someone else to do this. I'm no good at stuff like this and—"

Wordlessly, Léona stretched out her hand waiting for whatever he had come to deliver.

"Oh, right. Here." He handed a little box over to her. "I kept it safe for him, just like I promised. Don't know why he didn't give it to you himself, but I guess— Right. Never mind. I'm sorry." He slipped on his cap and left her standing in the doorway.

Léona looked down at the box and then back at him as he hurried down the steps.

"How?" she asked. As if it mattered. And, besides, she already knew. He had been killed on the frozen, cruel battlefields of Russia, away from her warm, loving arms. And his last thoughts were probably of how she had been the one to send him there.

The young man stopped and turned around. "Oh, uh, train crash. Outside of Düsseldorf, I think." He swung his arms awkwardly. "Well, good day, Miss. I mean… not good day… Ummm… goodbye." And with that, he hurried off.

Léona mechanically closed the door and stood in the hall, staring at the box. Slowly, she opened it. Inside was a gold band with a small blue stone. Léona took it from the box and inspected it before slipping it onto her finger. In doing so, she knew her fate was sealed: she would never love again.