Marguerith turned off the shower, wrapping her body in a soft, white, fluffy towel while using a second one to dry her damp, black curls. With light steps, she left the bathroom and entered the adjoining bedroom.
The young woman sat on the edge of the bed, where her clothes for the occasion were laid out: besides her underwear, there was a white button-up blouse with short sleeves and a rounded collar, and a flared blue skirt that, when worn, reached knee-length. At the foot of the bed was a pair of black buckle shoes.
If someone had asked her in retrospect, she would never have imagined that she would be wearing that outfit on her wedding day.
But it didn't matter to her. Soon she would be with Alphard. And they would be happy.
The young man looked fondly at his small apartment, thinking to himself that from that night on, it would be the home for him and his wife.
Wife... The word felt so sweet in his thoughts, and a sense of joy filled his heart.
He locked the door and put the key in his pocket. At that moment, he was suddenly surprised by a punch to the solar plexus and a blow to the head.
Before he lost consciousness, he noticed the figures of two men revealing themselves as they dispelled a Disillusionment Charm.
The first thing Alphard noticed when he began to wake up was that he was tied to a chair.
The second was the figure of his uncle Sirius Black sitting in a comfortable armchair in front of him, legs crossed, with one hand resting on a cane.
The young man then began to scan the place, concluding that he was in some kind of warehouse and that the two large, intimidating men beside the Black patriarch were probably the ones who had attacked him.
"You play dirtier than I had imagined," Alphard shouted, not hiding the anger that boiled his blood. Even knowing it would be futile, he struggled to free himself from the ropes.
"I told you to stay away from my niece," the patriarch spoke with a tone of noticeable satisfaction in his voice.
Before Alphard could respond, one of the thugs approached and punched him with the force of a sledgehammer. The young man's right eye immediately swelled. More blows followed as Sirius smiled at his nephew's groans of pain.
The final punch was so strong that the chair tipped backward, and a small pool of blood formed beneath Alphard's face. Despite this brutality, the young man was still conscious.
"Lift him up," Sirius ordered.
"You'll have to kill me before I give up on Marge," Alphard muttered in defiance, even though he was badly hurt. He would fall fighting somehow, even if it was just with words.
The Black patriarch rose from the armchair and approached the young man, pulling a wand from the inner pocket of his dark coat.
"Don't worry, dear nephew. I won't need to resort to that," the old man smiled like a dangerous, experienced predator.
Pointing the wand at Alphard, Sirius murmured:
"Imperius!"
Twilight began to approach the skies of London, tinting the surface of the Thames in golden hues, making the river water seem like liquid gold. That beauty, however, couldn't touch Marguerith Black's heart. Her green eyes were lost in an undefined point, and nervousness twisted her stomach, causing nausea.
She had been waiting there for an hour for Alphard to come so they could formalize their marriage with the magical authorities. And he had given no sign of life.
The insistent hoot of a small owl brought the young woman out of the pit of worries in which she was drowning. The bird stopped right in Marguerith's line of sight, making her immediately realize that it wasn't an ordinary bird.
Responding to her intuition, the owl dropped the envelope it was carrying, which Marge managed to catch in midair.
She opened the letter with trembling fingers, anxious. The first thing she looked for when she unfolded the paper was the signature. It was from Alphard!
Her heart skipped a beat and then immediately began to race violently. With still trembling hands, she held the paper away from herself and started reading. Her mouth was dry with nerves. She wanted to know if her fiancé was alright; she wanted to uncover the truth behind the delay.
"Marge," she began to read. "I wish there was another way to say this. Or that I didn't have to say it at all. But keeping silent about what happened will do neither of us any good."
The young woman bit her lip, starting to have a bad feeling about what was coming.
"These last few months have been wonderful, and I never wanted to hurt you or deceive you. But today, as I was getting ready to meet you to get married, I realized that I couldn't do this to you.
We are too young, too inexperienced. Over time, love would turn to bitterness, and we would end up hating each other.
That's why I've decided to leave.
It's better for me to leave you now with the good memories of what we had."
Marge knew before she even read it. The tears began to fill her eyes, and her body started to tremble in small spasms. Even though she felt engulfed by despair, she continued reading, her eyes terrifyingly fixed on the written words.
"Please understand that I needed to put some distance between myself and all this turmoil to gain perspective, so I wouldn't let my desire override what was right. I couldn't ruin your life. You were right to be afraid.
I don't know if you understand everything I'm trying to say; I, myself, feel that my thoughts are too confused to make any sense. The only thing I know is that you deserve a better life than the one I could give you.
Please forgive me.
Alphard Black."
At this point, the tears were streaming down Marguerith's face, the spasms growing stronger, and her head seemed to be spinning violently. She felt crushed by an overwhelming mass of emotions so dense and overpowering that she could barely breathe or move. Anger. Pain. Sadness. Disbelief. Panic. Despair. Hopelessness.
Mechanically, she pulled her wand from her bag and pointed it at the letter. Immediately, the parchment began to burn in a cold, blue flame, but with her tear-blurred vision, Marge barely noticed the letter turning into a heap of silver ashes.
Somehow, Marguerith managed to Apparate back home and take refuge in her room, letting the tears consume her completely. She could hear the door opening and the familiar footsteps of Hesper entering, but she still couldn't get up.
"Marge?" Hesper hurried to her niece's side. "What happened?"
"Alphard... he's gone... Uncle Sirius... Bete... They warned me... I didn't want to believe it..."
"My dear... I'm so sorry..." she gently stroked the young woman's head.
Marguerith remained passive, allowing Hesper to take care of her, removing her shoes. Her aunt brought her a bitter potion that burned her throat but simultaneously brought a liberating sense of stupor.
Something Marge desperately needed to rescue her from the tangled web of toxic emotions. Gradually, a drowsy darkness descended upon her, blessing her with a silent sleep.
The young woman turned in bed, feeling her body and head heavy, her eyes still burning. Despite the desire to remain lying down for an undefined period, maybe even for eternity, she removed the blanket and forced herself to get up.
She felt the coldness of the floor under her feet, but she was still numb enough not to be bothered by the sensation.
She put on her shoes and made herself go to the living room; she needed at least to show her aunt that she was feeling a little better. She didn't want to worry her more than she already was.
"Good morning," she said in a weak voice.
"Are you feeling better, dear?"
The young woman nodded slightly. Compared to the previous night, she felt less awful, but she wondered if she would ever truly feel good again. She felt too weak to muster any reaction that would break the stupor in which she was trapped.
Hesper approached her niece, placing a kiss on her cheek. She knew the young woman was suffering. And she couldn't understand what had driven the young man to such an extreme, but she realized how difficult everything was for Marguerith.
"Come," Hesper murmured in a gentle voice. "I asked them to prepare your breakfast. Just something light, considering your condition."
Marge let herself be led to the table. She sat at the head, with Hesper close by. There were toast and tea. Nothing else. The young woman took one of the toasts while her aunt served her a cup of tea, but as soon as she nibbled it, her stomach churned.
She placed the toast on a small plate, letting out a sigh.
"I'm so sorry," was all Hesper could say after a while, squeezing her niece's hand in a weak attempt to console her. "I know it hurts now, but time really does heal all wounds."
Marguerith didn't respond; she couldn't believe it, couldn't believe anything remotely like it. She didn't even want to think about anything. All she wanted at that moment was to stay in her aunt's company. Just to enjoy that affection... that warmth... to let it ease the emptiness inside her a little.