A week later, Eva found herself in the Westminster city again. As she was approaching the heavy door, she heard a beep coming from her handbag. Even though her phone wouldn't stop ringing for the whole afternoon, she kept ignoring it.

This time, the brunette took it out. Twenty-seven missed calls, one message.

'Please don't do that. TL'

'It's the right thing to do', she texted back. Yet another lie.

Her last one.

A reply came within seconds. 'You don't need to be afraid.'

'I'm not afraid', Eva texted. As she was about to hit the 'Send' button, she hesitated.

Am I really not?!

She closed her eyes. She finally noticed the knot in her belly that had been there for the last few weeks. And the scarred lower lip. And her hair falling out. On top of that, she couldn't remember when was the last time she had some real sleep.

I am.

I'm scared to death, she realized. I'm so absorbed in the fear that I don't know who I am anymore.

But what am I so afraid of? she wondered.

What am I afraid of? What am I afraid of? What am I afraid of?

She kept on repeating the question in her head, yet couldn't for the love of God figure out the answer.

The phone went back to energy saving mode, mirroring her face.

Myself.

I'm afraid of being lonely.

I'm afraid of being left with nothing but my own self.

She threw the phone back into her bag and entered the Ballroom.

"Matthew, I," she started hesitantly.

"What's with the outfit?" He couldn't help interrupting her, looking her up from head to toe. "Didn't you get the dress?"

"I did. Unfortunately, it didn't fit," she admitted, a bit ashamed.

"How come? I made sure it was size S," he muttered in astonishment.

"I wear M now."

Canada rubbed his eyes.

"The world's going through a crisis. How can you put on weight?"

Eva wished she could hide under a rock.

"I don't know." She shrugged. "There's less money, so I suppose that I eat cheap and my diet is less balanced." Why do I have this messed up need to justify everything about myself?!

"So, what about the shoes. Were they not to your liking?" he went on.

"Of course they were," the Slavic nation cried. "It's just that… It hurts to wear them."

He sighed, clearly annoyed. For the girl, that was the last drop.

"Just what gives you the right to judge me like this?" she raged suddenly.

"Eva, do you know how much did that dress and shoes cost? And how many things I had to promise to book this room? Twice?"

Why am I telling her all those things? he wondered. Shouldn't this have been about us, and us only?

The Slav said nothing and turned her back to him. Sitting down at the table, she poured herself a glass of wine.

"I know you don't like my drinking," she said. "But I don't care anymore. I feel so drenched with lies. I need to wash them away."

Silence.

Instead of the expected criticism, he sat down next to her. The almost palpable tension suddenly disappeared.

"I'd like one too, please," he asked, earnest. She gave him a bittersweet smile. For a moment she saw that fifteen-year-old adorable young man again.

The two countries clank glasses.

Drinking up, a warm sensation took over them. They both remembered the times when chastity, integrity and honesty were what they valued the most. Maybe those are not completely over yet.

"Aren't we too young to be with someone we don't love?" he finally said what both of them had been thinking for some time.

Slowly, they emptied the bottle, celebrating their break up by drinking until they ended up under the table.

"Eva?"

"Yes?"

"Everyone kept telling me I should be more assertive," he started. "So I figured I'd try and in a way, I came to like it. It was a good way to hide how scared and confused I was deep down. About you, about everything. But now I realize I went too far. I wasn't assertive, I was arrogant. And I ended up hurting you. I'm so sorry," the blond confessed.

"I see," she whispered, thinking. "We all change. Although this situation is a bit my fault, too. I should have let you know you were crossing a line, I shouldn't have remained a victim." Things suddenly seemed so clear to her, the words she had been desperately looking for for such a long time coming on their own.

And there are so many things we should have been saying openly from the very beginning. Yet we didn't, trying not to hurt or offend each other, she realized. Until it all turned into a wall that separated us once again, hurting us even more.

"Eva, we promised each other honesty and respect. Still, somehow we found those two contradictory. That destroyed us," he remarked as if reading her mind. She nodded, her eyelids growing heavy.

They fell asleep under the table, hand in hand, their story ending at the exact same spot where it started.

"Toris," Eva mumbled from her sleep, reaching out for the man lying next to her. His touch felt surprisingly unnatural and cold, his smell unfamiliar. She woke up.

"Who are you?" she slurred as she moved away.

"I'm Canada, your ex," the fellow whispered, half asleep, his features as peaceful as his voice.

That actually sounds right. She relaxed and dozed off again.

Sand dunes under her bare feet. Crosses as far as her eyes could see. The taste of poppy seeds on her lips.

His body against hers, intoxicating as a cup of mead, yet just as soothing and sweet.

I'll count those scars and build a temple for every last one of them.

Maybe one day, you will love me, too.

-THE END-