Bette picked up her cutlery and faked enthusiasm as the waiter disappeared to the kitchen.

’It smells good right?’

I nodded and did the same. I heard every occasional scrape of a fork against her porcelain plate, the subdued laughter at the tables around us, and soft music in the background. Our eyes would occasionally meet, only to quickly dart away, searching for an escape. ’It was a long time since I had such a good sole.’ I drowned my bite with a sip of water, to push it down, passed the lump in my throat.

My mind raced, desperately grasping for a topic, any topic, to break the silence. But each thought that came to mind felt inadequate, like a mere whisper in the vastness of the void that had engulfed us. Time seemed to stretch on, minutes feeling like hours, as the silence grew heavier and more suffocating.

’I was wondering,’ she began, her fingers curling around the carafe, a subtle furrow forming between her brows, ’do you..’ Her words hung in the air briefly, accompanied by a slight pause as she refilled my glass. ’No, never mind.’

’No, no tell me.’ I insisted, ’What did you want to say?’

It was obvious she had changed her mind, her voice was flat, ’Did you know that a viking invasion started the Chablis production in France?’

’Oh, really? I didn’t know.’ I said even though I wanted to scream.

She continued on the topic, her voice carrying an air of indifference that was hard to miss. ’The monks that started growing wines out in Chablis, were actually seeking refuge from the vikings. Were it not for vikings invading France we wouldn’t drink Chablis right now.’

Images of shared moments danced before my eyes—moments both mundane and extraordinary. Quiet evenings spent reading side by side, laughter echoing through sun-drenched rooms, and the simple joy of knowing she was there to weather life’s storms with me. It was a delicate weaving, a complex web spun from threads of love, empathy, and the art of compromise.

Had it been a persistent notion, an idee fixe, that compelled me to navigate the labyrinthine paths of merging two lives into one? Did the allure of an everlasting commitment begin to waver under the weight of life’s capricious nature? The weight of these uncertainties pressed upon me, a reminder that marriage was a commitment that required more than just love—it demanded resilience, patience, and unwavering support.