A Season of Masks and Masquerades

Chapter 49: The Sins of a Lover

Committing a sin is easy, it is the easiest thing by far, and so pleasant, as it makes one feel free to do as they please. 

It is only once the deed is done that they realise there is no going back anymore and that one must face whatever comes afront. That's when the sinner comes to know that avoiding the said sin, even though beyond difficult, would still have been way easier than facing the guilt and the repentance. 

Edward, although, the smartest of his times, failed to release this while there was still time. He, in fact, was only much more miserable for he didn't just have to face the guilt and the repentance but also, her. Esther. 

When Nate informed him about Esther being in Buckingham, he wasn't too amazed for he had understood the woman enough to know she wasn't the one to give up so easily. Fleeing towns was the least she could do to save the love of her friend. He only wished he could get done with his business quietly and leave so he did not have to face her, at least not so soon after letting her know of the truths of his masquerade. 

But as if the hells were themselves writing his fate, she appeared in front of him out of thin air. Her pale lifeless face was the living proof of every last one of his crimes that he had been hiding behind his masks and masquerades all this time.

He had been holding up quite well the past few days, telling himself he was doing all he could to pay back for what he did, convincing himself that it was alright now that he was on the right path, that he could now leave the past behind and move on and that she would not be hurting once he was gone. However, one glimpse of her accusing, pain-ridden eyes was more than enough to drag him back to square one.

He had never known the pain of heart before and now, every time he felt Esther's eyes on himself, it seemed he had never known a pain more excruciating.

It was so funny and yet not at all.

You see, when a man loves, he wishes for love in return, he might as well be content at being understood if not, but the last thing one can live with is the hate of the one he loves. 

When Esther's head turned around to meet his eyes in that ivy-ridden excuse for a garden, it was obvious he died a thousand deaths however he had to not show it. He had to keep it all in himself, the guilt, the pain, the regrets and the forbidden desires he dared not even think of.

It was fortunate that she now looked at him with a gaze so distant that despite sitting across the same table, he felt as if there were walls and oceans between them. Her unfiltered detest made it easier for him to be the one to look away first and to suppress the urge of spending the evening looking at nothing but her.

He had to keep away from her, he couldn't afford to get involved anymore. Her piercing gaze spoke for all the questions she had brimming on the tip of her tongue and Edward had not the answer to one of them. Not because he was not aware of the questions she may ask, they were all obvious. 

Why did he lie?

Why did he put on an unnecessary masquerade?

Why did he hide his identity?

What fun did he derive from breaking her heart, and so many times no less?

Why did he not at least confess the truth himself in the end? 

And most importantly, why was he still standing in front of her eyes?

He had no intentions of facing them, her. And if that meant running away, being called a coward, he was alright with that. He had no alternatives. 

While they sat at the dinner table across from each other, which he only attended for a very short time, he had to hold his breath, bite his tongue and kick himself in the shin to keep himself in his senses. For he was managing to keep his eyes off her very well but every time someone asked her a question, he wanted to turn to her as everyone else did, every time they offered her some food, he wished to be the spoon that touched her lips, and every time he noticed her rubbing her arms to shake off the night's cold breeze, he wanted to pull her in and warm her with every ounce of heat in his body.