"Why would he pick those passages? I don't think his fiancée's actually read the book.

What's the meaning of that?"

I entered into the giant parlour where everybody was already inside, including Anthony and Friedrich. Friedrich immediately made eye contact with me, waving his hand into the air. I grinned as he came over, wearing a massive smile of his own. That's when I also noticed Anthony standing off with a small group of people, one of whom was Colin. Those must be his siblings….. Anthony also glanced our way, and did NOT appear happy to see Friedrich being so near to me.

The kind German, naturally, was oblivious to all this, tenderly placing his arms behind my back and guiding me along to where my sister was sitting. She made a space for me on the sofa, and so I sat down beside her. Friedrich said some kind words to the both of us before taking his own seat not far from us. Anthony also sat down with his family off to one side. The poetry reading was about to begin.

Now, I'll be honest, I'm not a fan of poetry; never have been. I prefer novels myself, but Edwina seemed to be having a good time. Entry after entry went until it was Friedrich's turn to stand at the podium, which to everyone's surprise. He pulled out a folded piece of lined paper and placed it on the stand. Then he smiled up at everybody, particularly at Edwina and I. His shoulders relaxed in this most organic manner possible; he wasn't at all intimidated up there, like he'd been making speeches his whole live. He began: "This is a poem dedicated to the lovely future bride, Miss Edwina Sharma," he announced with glee. Everyone "ooooooohed" and gazed to the now radiant, blushing Edwina, who was twisting and turning in her seat beside me. It was clear she was ecstatic with Friedrich's dedication, not realizing that it was absolutely the moral thing for him to do. I know why he did that; it would be categorically immoral for him to read a love poem he wrote himself without dedicating it to someone who was already "devoted" in love. Of course Edwina, nor anyone else, realized this and so thought this was some sort of engagement gift. I was pleased and delighted by Friedrich's show of good moral character, even if we were the only two who understood that in the room.

The kind German charmed the audience by reading a heart-touching romantic poem; even Edwina was rose-coloured all throughout. By the time he finished, everyone was applauding, especially my sister. She then sighed wistfully to me. "That was SO romantic! I didn't know Germans could write poetry like that." I rolled my eyes; if she thinks that's romantic, she has no idea how swoon-worthy they could be. The host came up to the stage after Friedrich bowed himself out, clearly thrilled with the previous performance. He glanced in Friedrich's direction while smiling. "That's a hard act to follow, but would anyone else like to give a reading? Anyone?"

To everyone's shock again, including mine, Anthony's arm raised up from his side of the room. "I would like to, sir," he proclaimed and everybody began to whisper excitedly. The host stepped down as Anthony made his way onto stage. But he wasn't carrying a folded paper in his hand but instead the copy of Young Werther I'd just given him. The room was full of surprise as he set it down, opening it to a page and gazing up at the crowd. "This is also devoted to my fiancée, Miss Edwina Sharma. Admittedly, I am no good at writing prose or crafting flowery lines… But there's a passage in this book which resonated with me deeply when I first encountered it in undergraduate school….. I didn't understand what it meant back then, and I still doubt that I do now….. But I now have someone to share it with….. who may help me to understand it better. So, dear listeners, without further a due: Johann Wolfgang Goethe's "The Sorrows of Young Werther"." Anthony paused here to clear his throat. Everyone in the audience looked confused, except for me and ironically Friedrich; it was like we knew what was coming…. and couldn't wait to hear it. He read:

"If God had wanted me otherwise, he would have created me otherwise.

And Charlotte. She consented, since that time, sun, moon, and stars may pursue their course:

I know not whether it is day or night; the whole world is nothing to me.

Sometimes I do not understand how any other can love her, is permitted to love her, since I love her so exclusively, so deeply, so fully, and neither know nor have anything but her!

I do not think of you; you are always before my soul.

But no, I am not deceived- I can read true sympathy in her dark eyes. Yes, I feel… and here I know I can trust my heart… that she…. dare I, can I express heaven in a few words? That she loves me. Loves me. And how precious I have become to myself, how I… I can say this to you, who have understanding for such emotions- how I worship at my own altar since I know that she loves me! Is this presumption or fact, I ask myself? I am experiencing the kind of happiness that God dispenses only to his saints. Whatever is yet to come, I shall never be able to say that I have not felt the great, the purest joy life can hold."

Here was this silence permeating the room until Anthony finally closed the book and glanced up at everybody. I think they took that as their cue to start clapping which they did. Friedrich and I were applauding especially loudly and wearing massive smiles on our faces. That was beautiful, simply beautiful! I loved that novel and read it at least once a year myself, and judging by the kind German's reaction, he was also a fan. The only one who seemed only mildly impressed was Edwina, who clapped with less enthusiasm. She leaned over to whisper to me again. "It was nice, but I wish he'd wrote one himself," she was referring to a poem. I shrugged.

"He said he can't write poetry, but he wanted to do something nice for you publicly anyway." "I guess so," she sighed again, a tad disappointed. I gazed back in Anthony's direction, still smiling. Heh, despite not reading that book in years- so he claims- he sure picked the most romantic passages out fast. Either that's a good memory or he speed-read through it before the poetry reading. Regardless of which it is, I was charmed. That novel was so special to me, and it was just a pity that Edwina didn't recognize the gravity behind the words. I doubt that Anthony meant her in place of Charlotte, Werther's lover, while reading…. Their relationship wasn't a love-match, after all. But the fact that he read something from the book I'd just given him meant something to me…..

It meant something special to me indeed.