Notes: If you are unfamiliar with the story of Lucien and Celesta, just leave me a comment and I can fill you in.
She never forgot Lucien. How could you forget that your arm was there, that your legs moved you forward in the world? Could one forget the inhale and exhale of your breath? The answer would be a sure and soft resounding, “No.”
In the tower where she was ensconced, she wrote sonnet after sonnet, then crumpled them and let the balled sheets fall to the floor, forgotten. She could no more find words to put to her longing than she could the delicate beauty of a sunset over a lake.
She wondered, quietly, if she saved him by her departure. From her window above the world below, she had seen that Lucien was a father now. He built a home, had friends to look out for him. He wasn’t so alone. For a moment, she let herself believe she was with him. She was this Moira that he had invented for his daughter, but always the thought drifted away from her.
They had both made mistakes. Silly, stupid ones. She perhaps more than him, but they were both to blame. He at least had known what he wanted in life, while she had always wondered and had jumped from want to want, always thinking that she would find that one thing that would be the purpose of her existence.
Not for the first time, Celesta wished that Lucien had said something to her, had told her how he felt. Even thinking it, she knew he had been fairly obvious in his affections of her. Always rescuing her from unwanted suitors, always waiting for her, always there to listen to her woes, always telling her in his own way that he loved her.
With a pang of regret, the goddess realized why Lucien had left Camille. It wasn’t to escape memories of her or to distance himself from everyone that she had known, although she was sure they were part of the reasons. No, he had left because she had forgotten to tell him the most important thing of all, the one thing he had always hoped to hear from her.
She turned back to her sonnets, to the crumpled pieces of paper on the floor. “I forgot to tell you ‘I love you.'”