Chapter 24
Silence fell across the entire venue.
Clifford stood in a spot where light and shadow intersected. There were still coffee stains in the creases of his suit from his plane ride earlier and his usually meticulously styled hair now messily hung over his forehead.
Magnus narrowed his eyes. “Are you here to steal my bride away, Mr. Sinclair?”
Clifford ignored him. Instead, he made a beeline for Lilibeth and knelt down in front of her.
“I know I deserve death,” he said in a voice as coarse as sandpaper. “But please spare me a glance…”
The guests were in an uproar at the sight of the head of the Sinclair family–the cold, dignified priest–kneeling.
Lilibeth took half a step backward. “Stop this, Clifford.”
“I wrote 300 love letters for you, detailing events from when we first met to when we got married, and…” He trailed off and swallowed. “Up until the day I fell in love with you but didn’t have the guts to admit it.”
He opened the box with trembling fingers, whereupon snow–white letters fluttered into the air like butterflies.
However, Lilibeth remained unmoved. She slowly shook her head without even sparing the letters a glance. “It’s too late, Clifford.”
When Magnus finally slipped the ring onto her finger, Clifford felt as if he could hear the sound of his heart shattering to pieces.
As Magnus and Lilibeth kissed amid the crowd’s applause, Clifford knelt among the love letters on the floor like a sinner facing judgment.
After the birthday party ended, he sat despondently in his car until late at night.
The lights of Sollake Estate were reflected off his windshield, and he could vaguely make out two figures hugging on the balcony.
He suddenly started the car and floored the accelerator, rushing toward Magnus, who had just stepped out of the house.
He gripped the steering wheel so hard that it looked like he was going to crush–it. “Die! As long
you’re gone, Beth will be mine!”
The car’s headlights illuminated Magnus‘ astonished face. At the critical moment, a figure in red suddenly leaped forward, shielding him behind their arms.
“Beth?” exclaimed Clifford,
His eyes shrunk to pinpricks, and he aggressively spun the wheel, sending his car forcefully slamming into an oak tree. In the instant that the airbags were deployed, exploding outward, he caught sight of Lilibeth’s frightened expression.
“Great…” Clifford thought faintly.
At least this time, he had made the right choice. As cracks spread over the windshield like a spider’s web and blood flowed down his forehead, he actually felt a sense of relief.
If death could end this agonizing pain, then perhaps it was the best ending-
Clifford had a really, really long dream.
He dreamed of his and Lilibeth’s wedding night. She was wearing a silk nightgown, and the candlelight cast a flickering shadow over her collarbone. Her long black hair cascaded down her pale shoulders, and her eyes were filled with starlight as she looked at Clifford, nervous
yet expectant.
“Clifford, I…”
However, he turned and entered the meditation room. He knelt in front of the altar with nothing but Tiffany’s name on his mind..
Lilibeth had cried throughout the night back then, her tears soaking into their comforter, but he had remained completely unaware of it.
His dream continued to change, showing him different scenes of Lilibeth. In one of the scenes, she waited by the bed, dressed in his shirt, until she eventually curled up to sleep.
In another, she sneaked into the bathroom while he was showering, but he wrapped her in a
towel and threw her out.
Another scene showed her deliberately sitting on his lap while he was reading scriptures, only for him to pick her up with one hand and set her down to the side.
There was also one where she chased after his car on a rainy night and fell into a puddle.
Each scene was a dull knife cutting into his broken heart.
“I regret it,” he murmured in his sleep. “I really regret all of it.”
Clifford suddenly struggled into awareness on the hospital bed, sweat beading on his forehead.
A cool hand came to rest on his forehead. His eyes snapped open at the touch, only to meet Lilibeth’s calm gaze.
“Beth!” he exclaimed hoarsely, grabbing her wrist. “Come back with me… Let’s start over,
alright?
She
gently pulled her hand away. “Do you still not understand the situation, Clifford? I’m still myself when I love Magnus, but back when I loved you…
She paused before continuing, “I was no longer myself.”
Clifford’s fingers dug into his palms, and fresh blood started to soak his bandages. “Please give me another chance…”
Lilibeth stood up. “You should go back to Jolsville. This is the last time I’ll come to see you. From now on, I really don’t want to see you ever again.”
The door!
was t pushed open, revealing Magnus leaning against the doorframe. “It’s time to go try on your wedding dress, Beth.”
Lilibeth walked toward him without looking back. The view of her back looked just like that of the young lady from the snowy night six years ago, who had leaped into Clifford’s embrace without hesitation.
This time, however, she was throwing herself into someone else’s arms.
As Clifford gazed at their intertwined hands, he was suddenly reminded of the altar in the meditation room, dusty and blackened by candle smoke.
It seemed that failing to get what he desired was God’s punishment unto him.
A week later, Clifford was discharged and left the hospital alone.
As he passed by the church, he saw a red carpet covered in roses, balloons with “S&Q” written in gold, and guests raising a toast to the newlyweds.
He didn’t enter the church and instead simply stood under a sycamore tree, watching as the love of his life got married to another man.
When the wedding song started playing, he was suddenly reminded of when Lilibeth had secretly kissed him years ago.
She had stood on her tiptoes and brushed her lips across the corner of his mouth, then run away, a blush creeping on her face. The sound of her laughter, akin to the tinkling of silver bells, had lingered behind.
Now, the owner of that laughter had become someone else’s bride.
After returning to Jolsville, Clifford went to Ascotus Church.
During his tonsure ceremony, the abbot asked, “You mentioned wanting to be addressed by a new name, Father. What will it be?”
As Clifford knelt in front of the altar and put on his new zucchetto, he replied, “Just call me…
Bethel.”
He would forever keep Lilibeth close to his heart and spend the rest of his life atoning for his
toward her.
