I was selfish to marry her, but I couldn't help it. Everything about her made me feel happy, her bottomless (E/C) eyes, the way her (H/C) hair blew in the wind and her laugh. I can still hear it, like bells the only thing I have left. More importantly, the way she made me feel. No matter how much of a bad day it would be she would make it better just by being there. She excepted me for who I was, A hardened soldier that struggled to show emotion or convey any human thought unless it was towards her. She didn't mind my obsessive compulsiveness, in fact she shared the very same trait. And more amazingly she conquered my way of pushing everyone close to me away, (Name) was the only one that could slip through my defenses.
The day I married her was the best day of my life, yet it was also the day I committed the first step towards my most selfish act. The way she smiled at me at the alter, the way she looked walking down the aisle, and how (Name) felt in my arms when we were married after we did our vows. Such happy memories do nothing now but stand as a reminder of what could have been. Four beautiful months of marriage we had. The most treasured thing I have are those memories, the small cottage we had on the outskirts of Berlin, and the happy memory of her waving me off when I went to work in the morning and the delicious meal waiting for me when I came home with a beer. Then the war came. Because of what I was, what I am it was my duty, my obligation to go, to fight and protect my people. But (Name) didn't know who I was, what I was. To her I was Ludwig Beilschmidt, her loving husband and as far as she was aware, one of the of the countless young men that lost their lives in the second world war. I remember the day I left and even though she was crying when I and the other men were getting ready to leave, she could still smile, her dazzling smile, the one solely reserved for me. I asked her how could she smile on a day like this.
"Because you will come back to me. You are strong and brave. A fine soldier and a brilliant man." With that she kissed me. The last kiss she would give me and as the vehicle pulled away I looked into her (E/C) eyes for the last time.
I remember the day I made the decision, the coward's way out. I was sitting in my general's cabin going over battle plans on the front, doing anything to keep my mind wandering back to (Name). My brother, Gilbert, walked in holding a large sack and he said they were full of messages and letters that the soldiers had written to be sent home, he had come to see if I was going to write anything to my wife. It was this point I made that selfish decision.
"Nein." I had said to my brother. "I will not write her a letter. Instead I need you to put my name in the obituary and send word home I have died." This was the point of no return. My most selfish deed was to break her heart instead of my own. A clean break for her, if I am dead she can move on with her life and forget about me. I chose this selfish path instead of me having to go through the pain of watching the woman I loved grow old and die, to live with the inevitability that her beautiful (H/C) would fade to grey and eventually her (E/C) eyes would become dull and lifeless. Perhaps it would of been better for me to die on the battlefield than to live on with this ever present wound of a broken heart.
A few years later, once the war had ended I returned to Berlin, I walked past the cottage we used to share and see the bird house I built her as a wedding gift. It is comforting to know she is still there, still alive. While I was in the city, I also paid my respects to the men that died at the war cemetery. I found my own grave, it said my body was never recovered. That's when I saw her, My (Name) at my grave. Grief was evident on her beautiful face, her face no longer glowed like it used to seem to. But her eyes were still full of life. I thank the heavens they still remain. I am shocked to see she is not alone at the grave, next to her holding her hand is a small boy, a child. My child. This is evident through his blonde hair identical to mine and he has the same blue eyes, his are young and curious, mine show the trials I have faced.
"Mama, What was Papa like?" She kneels down to his height.
"He was a good man, A hard working, brilliant man who died protecting the country he loved. The most selfless man I had ever met." What lies, I am nothing but a selfish coward. She smiles sadly.
"Come Ludwig, we shall go home now it's getting late." Holding hands they walk feet away from me. (Name) glances upwards and for a split second I see the eyes of the woman I loved, the woman who's heart I broke. Her eyes widened, but when she looks back I am gone.