(This is a short story sequel to another one of my short stories: Lovers in another time. I have this whole backstory in mind about how to progress with this plot of Edith and Ellard, therefore I’ll probably be writing a few short stories about this story. Hope you fiction lovers out there will enjoy it! 🙂 )
He averted his gaze, straightened his back and fiddled with the handle of his mug.
“Ouch! Shi-” He mumbled, then quickly rubbed his sore thumb against his earlobes.
He was trying to act ‘normal’, to avoid things from getting more awkward than it already can, yet this happened.
“Idiot!” He cursed inside.
He looked up – absentmindedly – and his eyes stared straight into hers.
He could sense sadness in her eyes, or maybe more than that- anguish, longing, anything associated with sadness bared in her eyes. Her gaze seemingly able to tell a million words, it was like she was speaking to him through her eyes. Her brows were softened, making her ocular even more melancholy than they already were. She had olive eyes, yet they were a really light shade of green-blue, they could almost pose off as grey – at first glance, one might mistake them for grey. But he could see the tinges of green in there, after all, she had been focused on him and nothing else for the past 15 minutes.
He was trying hard to avoid her scrutiny, her eyes were so riveted on him that it was getting more than just uncomfortable. He wanted to just get up and leave, but something was pulling him to stay.
Something about her, there was something about her that intrigued him.
She gave off a sense of familiarity, some sort of warmth and fervency rippled throughout him. But he was sure he didn’t know her.
An ex-crush? Or an ex- fling?
No, it couldn’t be. He couldn’t be that senile not to know who he was infatuated with before, neither did he got so drunk before as to not know who he laid with.
He clasped his fingers together abruptly.
“Alright, Elliot, you just grow some balls and approach her, maybe we have met somewhere before.” He picked up the mug and gulp down the remaining coffee, before unintentionally banging it down on the table – anxiety or apprehension, he couldn’t tell.
“Hey, I realised that you’ve been looking at me for quite some time. Do we know each other? Or is there something on my face?” He was trying to hide that jitters underneath that composed suaveness.
For a second, he saw her slightly taken aback, her eyes widened before anguish returned into them.
“Shit was I too straightforward?”
“I’m Elliot by the way, how about you?” He extended his arm, trying to dissolve the awkwardness that was escalating too far- he could imagine himself just turning around and running out of the door.
“Hi, I am Edith. Nice to meet you, Ellar-” She bit her lip.
“Elliot, I mean.” She took his hand and gave a warm soft smile – he didn’t imagine someone that looked so sad could give off such a beautiful smile.
Her palms were cold, and soft and it was somewhat lightening to the tension between them when he took her palm.
“Edith? That name sounds really familiar.” He pondered.
Unconsciously, he squeezed her palm a little, and his fingers caressed hers.
She returned with a short squeeze before letting go.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I just uh-” He grew red, and rubbed his head – he was all over the place.
Her red, neither thick nor thin – just about right- lips curved up, giving way to the dimples that illuminated her smile even further.
She was a beautiful, comely lady, and exuded much grace and charm – maybe it was the way she talked and sat. He was rather captivated by her, despite all the gawkiness. And it wasn’t just her good looks that caught his eye, it was something in her – fervour, yearning, comfort, he felt so much when he touched her.
He felt like he had known her for ages.
She felt familiar, not only by feelings but her face as well.
Her olive eyes, he had seen them somewhere before.
“Do you want to go for a walk? Hyde Park is just around the corner,” he extended his arm, hoping she would take it – he felt rather silly with that, acting all knightly and gentlemanly all of a sudden.
She nodded, and unexpectantly took his arm and got up.
“Thank you, Elliot.” She voiced gently.
He was pleased, he saw the anguish in her eyes diluting. He was glad that he could take away that agony from such a beautiful soul, her eyes were even more mesmerising now without that dolour.
She pulled her hair tie, and a flood of dark red locks flowed on her shoulders.
It all came to him now.
She turned, and the mess of cardinal locks flung backwards.
She was from his dreams.
She was his lover who died in his dreams.
She was Edith, the Edith, that he swore to love forever.
But why was she here, in London, when that dream seemed to transpire centuries ago?
Wasn’t Edelyn supposed to be his reincarnated lover?
“Ellard, what is the matter?” She touched his forearm.