Holding on to broken promises

At the stroke of midnight, Adela stood pensively near the lake, attempting to catch a glimpse of her own reflection in the obsidian waters, for she was curious to see what Egon saw earlier.

After all, this might be their final informal meeting.

Her efforts proved futile.

As she persistently sought her reflection, the water seemed to transform into Egon's eyes, reflecting not her external appearance, but rather her inner self. An eerie calmness that had nothing to do with peace, it was as if the essence of life had been drained from its depths.

Just like hers.

It seemed like only yesterday when she had confessed her love for him near this very spot. The memory of his emotional outburst that day, her clinging to him and being the first to utter the word 'love' remained vivid. Perhaps the aristocracy's approach to marriage as a strategic alliance had its merits. Love, undeniably, complicates everything.