[original] Forgiveness
Title: Forgiveness
Author: Luna (dreamweavernyx )
Summary: After all these years...please, forgive me.
Notes: Inspired by Hanamuke (Tegomasu)
~
She opens the mailbox, and sees an elegant white envelope with gold gilt edging lying on top of the pile of letters, a piece of outstanding splendour among the other plain envelopes.
Curious, she opens it, careful not to damage the envelope too much. From within she extracts a piece of thick good-quality paper. Unfolding it, she sees thin, slanting writing, stark black on the snow white paper.
You are cordially invited to the wedding… reads the first line.
Eyes scanning the next few lines, she feels a spark of surprise when she sees the names of the happy couple. The bride is her best friend who she has not spoken to ever since graduating from college, their strong bond of friendship irreparably destroyed after an argument.
The groom is the boy over which their friendship had been sacrificed.
She debates stuffing the letter back into the envelope and pushing it out of sight, but eventually she decides against it. She collapses on the sofa, and wonders why her best friend would invite her - to her wedding of all things - after giving her the cold shoulder for so long.
She remembers all the ignored calls, all the scathing glances, all the short and biting replies, and decides that it was probably the groom’s decision to invite her.
Contemplating whether to attend the event, her face tingles with the phantom memory of a stinging slap resounding in an empty hallway, with the cold dormitory doors mocking her all around.
She remembers a face twisted in anger and a voice overflowing with accusation and righteous hate.
*****
“How dare you!”
She looks at her best friend with a face full of confusion.
“Don’t you play innocent with me,” her best friend hisses, and begins to stalk towards her like a lioness stalking its prey just before it pounces.
She still can’t fathom what she has done to make her friend this upset.
“Look,” she tries to placate her friend, “are you mad at me or something? I’m not sure what exactly I did wrong, but -”
She is cut off abruptly.
“You’re not sure?” Incredulity coats her voice. “Your hypocritical monologue, a week ago. Is your memory that poor?”
And suddenly, she does remember. A string of muffled sobs on the other end of the line and her trying to comfort the distraught girl.
She’d been rejected (now that she thinks of it, by the very same boy whose wedding invite arrived in the mail today) and was in desperate need for comfort and reassurance.
To help a friend in depression, what else could she do but try her best? So she had spoken non-stop for almost five minutes, before her friend’s muffled sobs were no longer rattling into the receiver, and she had calmed down enough to whisper a word of thanks before ending the call.
A week later, the same boy attempted to ask her out.
She stands in the cold hallway, skin prickling as she realizes that her friend had seen all the interaction between the two of them that day. She tries to explain, but her friend ignores her, hand pulling back.
The slap resounds in the long corridor, faint echoes of the sharp impact bouncing from wall to cold wall until it has faded out of earshot. Her cheek burns from a hate a thousand times more vicious than flame, and it feels like an eternity before her hand responds to her commands and rises up, trembling, to rest against the red skin.
Narrowed eyes glare at her viciously, before the heavy dormitory door slams shut and she is left all alone in the cold empty hallway, palm glued to her cheek.
*****
She places the letter on the dining table, deciding that she will attend the wedding. For it is a courtesy, of course, to turn up when invited to such an event.
The underlying reason, though, is that she may be able to meet the bride face-to-face.
She thinks it’s a chance to apologize for a misunderstanding five years old.
*****
On the day of the wedding, she shows up awkwardly at the flower-filled arch that marks the entrance to the venue. People around her all mill around, buzzing with excitement, while she stands in the middle, the chatter washing over her like a tsunami.
She makes her way to a seat near back, just as the church bells begin to ring, filling the air with honey-rich harmony.
The groom stands by the priest, suit pressed to perfection. As the last notes of the melodious bells fade away into the crisp air, the bride makes her appearance from under the arch.
She sees her ex-best friend with a beautiful smile on her face, swathed in pure delicate white. She sweeps down the aisle, snow-white dress seemingly glowing, the perfect picture of radiance and joy.
Five years of broken friendship have put them a great distance from each other, but today, looking at the radiant bride glide past, she feels slightly jealous, and suddenly the wide open gulf between the two of them seems endless, two shores with a boundless sea separating them.
After the ceremony, she follows behind a crowd of young women rushing to congratulate the bride. They soon disperse after a quick round of squealing their congratulations, and she is left alone, staring into the surprised face of the bride.
She knows what she needs to say. “I’m sorry, forgive me.” Yet, looking into the deep eyes of the one before her, she suddenly feels the aching pain of the impossibly wide canyon yawning between them. She opens her mouth, but the apology refuses to be forced out.
“You look amazing,” comes out instead.
“Really?” is the reply, both amused and surprised at the same time.
“Yes,” she says, her eyes telepathically communicating the apology her tongue cannot bring itself to say. “The most beautiful bride in the world.”
The bride beams, her smile bright like the sun.
“You think so?”
“Of course,” she nods. “I wish you two eternal happiness together.”
The eyes of the bride sparkle then, and she thinks that perhaps the words I’m sorry hidden within the congratulation have been sensed. Looking into those eyes, she desperately searches for an answer to her unspoken question that hangs clearly in the silence between them that follows.
She looks, and in those dark pools she sees surprise-joy-pride-forgiveness and suddenly she feels a sense of relief.
No words are said, but suddenly the tenseness between the two has eased, the pain of the deep chasm between them slowly melting away like ice cubes in summer.
When later the bride flings out her arm and tosses her bouquet behind her, the bunch of flowers land softly in her unsuspecting hands. She gazes at the delicate flowers, their silken petals smooth and beautiful like the promise of a future in which she can find the happiness her friend has.
A faint smile slowly crawls its way up her face, wistfulness flooding her eyes.
Maybe it’s time to forget the clinging entrails of the past, to clear away all the lingering doubts, and move on.
Maybe it’s time to start anew.