Night-Time Romance

Sven came to her boudoir by night. "Dearest, darling Lilietia!" he breathed to her softly. "I come bearing flowers, though they smell not half so sweet as you do." All was hidden by darkness; with but a silver of moonlight to guide him, Sven could see no more than her outline beneath the bed-covers.

She woke from her uneasy sleep. Looking at Sven, his earnest face grinning readily, she smiled. "Thank you, Sven, my heart's delight!" Shifting beneath the bed-sheets, she said, "Come, the night is cold, and my room even colder. Surely you shouldn't waste this bed, which I've heated for you so nicely?"

-

Once, two girls, Jovia and Lilietia, were best of friends. They conspired in every matter, from thwarting the head-mistress of their preparatory school to teasing young men in the eternal game of meaningless flirtation. When they had grown to womanhood, they remained bosom friends, and frequented the night-clubs and opera-houses together.

Sven shattered their friendship the moment they both laid eyes upon him, then (long moments later) upon each-other. The two, so alike in most matters, were alike in their immediate affection for him. From his Scandinavian good looks to his earnest demeanor and unfailing courtesy, he was everything they had ever hoped for. Their hearts were instantly set upon him, and they resolved to court him. Flanking him, they tantalized him with flattery and flirtation. Sven was taken aback, and quite impressed by both of the women, though not half so infatuated as they were. Still, at the end of the night, he readily agreed to meet them in a week's time - together, Jovia and Liletia agreed, staring daggers at one another, while Sven smiled at them obliviously.

Over the next month, they met many times, and while both brought presents and tendered their affections to Sven in ways subtle as a passing glance and blatant as heart-sick love poetry, his own heart did not respond as equally. Slowly, but surely, Liletia won his heart over the month of courtship. Frustrated Jovia found herself an unwanted third party as the two chatted happily with one another, exchanging significant glasses.

After the last meeting, at which a midnight rendezvous was hinted at (while Jovia stood by as discreetly as she could), the two once-friends met behind the night-club. Next to the flowing river, they stared at the night sky, each reluctant to speak. The moon was new; they saw only by starlight.

Jovia was the first to speak. "Well, I suppose you've won," she admitted with a sigh.

Liletia nodded. She tried to be solemn, for her friends sake, but could not contain the joy in her voice as she thought of Sven. "I know you love him. But... he doesn't love you." She looked at Jovia apologetically. "I suppose we're just too alike in the end."

Jovia nodded, sadly. Her face was unreadable. "You'd do the same thing, in my position."

The splash was muffled by the many layers of skirt. Those same layers encumbered her to the point of immobility; stunned for precious moments by the cold water, there was nothing she could do. And in the darkness of the moonless night, no-one noticed Liletia's body before it reached the sea.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This was originally intended to be a story of 'romance.' I realized early on that this was not. Alas; perhaps I am just not cut out for the romance author's life.