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′′ And that’s my story ′′ When I said those words my attention was completely focused on Desmond’s reaction after hearing the story.

Not matters how much I tried to seem like I didn’t care, the reality was that as a woman I was quite nervous right now after all even if I couldn’t say that I loved the man in front of me, I still felt like a maiden in love every time I looked into those blue eyes and that’s why I was a little scared. . . afraid to see those blue eyes full of rejection towards me or even worse.

A couple of seconds passed without getting a response and I began to fear for the worst, so arming myself with all the courage that was left in my body I turned to look Desmond directly in the eyes; there was no scorn or rejection there. . . it was something completely different, it was tenderness, care, and even empathy.

Before my mind finished formulating any further thoughts, I saw him put down the teacup he was holding, get up from his seat, and gently walk in my direction; I wanted to say something and try to understand his intentions, but the huge lump in my throat prevented me from saying anything.

Then as my mind turned into complete chaos, I felt an unexpected warmth, his right hand gently caressing my cheek while his left hand gently ruffled my hair; at some point, the tears began to run down my cheeks as I let this warmth that I felt be marked in the depths of my being.

Desmond didn’t seem to expect me to suddenly start crying so he seemed to panic a bit as he used his hands to try to wipe away the tears that kept falling.

′′. . . Why? ′′ I barely managed to formulate those few words while my little sobs drowned out my voice.

′′ Any man worthy of being called as such would not let a damsel cry in front of him without trying to comfort her. ′′ Desmond exclaimed with justice.

.....

What else could I do besides looking at him confused, it was clear that I was not referring to that when I asked, but at this point nothing but muffled sobs came out of me.

′′ I guess you mean why your story doesn’t seem to affect me much. ′′ Desmond’s always playful tone disappeared as he answered the confusion written on my face; but instead of answering in words I just gave him a nod in response.

′′ That is a difficult question to answer, it is not that I fully understand what you had to go through or that I want to tell you that I do not care at all, it is part of your past and who you are; nothing can change that. . . I know it better than many. ′′ There was something in Desmond’s voice that I had never heard from him, it was melancholy and. . . fault.

I wanted to answer him, I wanted to ask him about his past, I wanted to understand the man in front of me, the first person besides my mother who did not disown me for my appearance, but even praised her, this man who showed me kindness and tenderness when no one else did, who cook for me with a sincere smile on his face, the man who took my first kiss and seized my heart with such force; but I knew it was not a good idea to try to find out about it.

While all these ideas were running through my head, Desmond who had continued to wipe my tears and caress my face had sat next to me at some point, not even a second later I could feel his arms gently wrap around my waist; for a moment I couldn’t believe he was in the mood for this kind of thing in a situation like this.

But contrary to my expectations, there was no passionate approach on his part and after a momentary feeling of weightlessness, I found myself sitting on his lap; with my body resting on the left side of his torso and my legs dangling from the right side of his lap as I sat on his left leg.

Under normal circumstances this posture would make me immensely embarrassed and nervous at the level of intimacy, but right now I felt nothing but the comfort and affection that Desmond was probably trying to show me.

′′ Before you asked if I could love you and I was sincere when I answered, but I think it is one of the few occasions in which I have been completely sincere with you; I think I am so used to lying that it has always become the first choice for me.

Sasha, the truth is that I like you, you are one of the most kind, tender and considerate people I have ever met; of course the fact that you are an exceptional beauty cannot be ignored.

You are also talented, incredibly talented. . . probably long enough to follow me on the path I am on now.

But we don’t know each other well enough. . . or you don’t know me well enough, we’ve only lived together for a couple of days and I’m afraid that the reason why you might fall in love with me is that you don’t know me for who I am; although I suppose you thought the same before you told me about your past.

As for talking about love. . . I hate to say it, but we are far from that stage, I wish you. . . More than I had wanted a woman in a long time and you attract and interest me enough to be more than a one-night stand; As for a romantic relationship it would be I guess only time will tell.

Having said that, there are two things you need to know about me: The first is that I already have a person that I love, her name is Claire and she is what I love the most in this world; she is and she has always been my priority. ′′

Listening to Desmond I couldn’t help but agree with the fact that we had only known each other for less than a week and it was too early to talk about love. . . But don’t they talk about love at first sight all the time in fairy tales? I also do not understand why he mentions something about my talent, but I quickly forget that topic when I talk a little about his intentions towards me and mention how much he wants me.

The part about only time will tell if we can be something seemed reasonable to me so I did not have much problem about it, but when he talks about the woman he loves I could not help but feel a great pain in my chest, it was not that in this world there would not be Polygamy, but hearing that the person you are in love with loves someone else so intensely hurts; especially if you have not yet earned the love of that person.

However, I knew there wasn’t much to be said about it so I waited for Desmond to finish speaking.

′′ As for the second. . . I suppose that similar to you, it deals with my past; As for how the story begins, the truth is, I’m not that much of a fan of once upon a time, but it’s not a classic for nothing so: once upon a time ′′ And so with that playful tone coming back to him, Desmond began to talk to me about his past, about his sins, about his mistakes and sacrifices.

And so the minutes passed with me sitting on his lap, leaning on his chest listening to his heart beat as he caressed my back with his left hand and held my hands with the other; I quietly listened to his story as I stole occasional glances from those deep blue sorrowful eyes that belied the playful tone with which Desmond told his story and this moment. . . this precise moment became my second precious memory.

Soon a bit of the evening sun peeked out the window and with it came the twilight of the story, Desmond’s voice held steady throughout the process and it could almost make one believe that he wasn’t even talking about himself, but I would not be worthy of the affection that he has shown me and that I hope he will show me in the future if I could not see the pain and guilt hidden in his eyes.

′′ And that’s the whole story so far, if there was a moral I suppose that would be the following: We are all sinners. At least that applies to almost everyone in my homeworld. ′′

Are we all sinners? . . . I guess it’s quite fitting for his story, I wonder where on the continent this all happened. . . waiting . . . their homeworld.

′′ Oh, you seem to have noticed, well I think I should be making dinner so I’ll tell you about it in the process. ′′