The singer on stage had reached the climax, the resounding high notes shaking the entire venue. This was a singer she greatly admired, yet now she couldn’t absorb a single note. Because all night long, she had been conflicted about whether to withdraw her hand from his palm.
As the song concluded, the audience erupted into applause, standing up in unison, the sound like thunder, orderly and resounding. He stood up as well, joining the applause for the performers, and her hand was finally liberated from this bondage…
“I want to go outside for some air…” She spoke before him, quickly walking out of the theater’s hall, down the steps, and into the small square outside. It was now deep into the night, with only a few stars twinkling in the dark sky. Khanyi took a deep breath of the cold air and heard a faint, weak voice coming from below her feet.
“Lady, please buy a rose.” It was a ragged little girl, looking frail, as if she had just crawled out of a tunnel. Khanyi noticed the yellow six-pointed star badge on her chest.
“Oh my, how are you selling flowers here?”
“Please buy one.” The girl repeated her words, her amber eyes looking up at her.
She had no money on her, rummaging through her pockets, hoping to give the poor child a piece of candy, but she had no candy either. She glanced towards the theater entrance, where the neatly dressed audience members were coming out. She pushed the girl’s delicate shoulder, “Hurry home, child, it’s dangerous here.”
“Please, kind lady, buy one. The shop is closed, my father was taken away, my mother is sick, and without money, she will die…”
“What are the two ladies talking about?” His voice came from behind.
The little girl instinctively felt a bit frightened by the tall, handsome man suddenly appearing before her.
“Are you selling flowers?” He slowly crouched down to meet the girl’s gaze, his ice-blue eyes sweeping over the yellow star on her chest, landing on the broken basket in her hands. “The roses are beautiful, but today is not Valentine’s Day, little lady.”
The girl didn’t answer, just stared at him with her big amber eyes. In her tattered basket were a few roses, which must have been stolen from somewhere, as they were so uneven.
“Sell them to me.” He pulled out his wallet, finding no change, so he took out a bill instead. “Here, go home.”
“Thank you,” the girl said, clutching the bill, placing the entire basket on the ground, and turning to run into the depths of the alley at the street corner…
He didn’t look at the little girl, pulling out the roses one by one from the basket, gathering them into a bouquet in his hand.
She gazed at the blood-red roses in his hand. He didn’t immediately hand the flowers to her but lowered his head and chuckled softly, “Isn’t it quite pitiful that this girl is still selling flowers so late?”
She continued to watch him, catching a glimpse of the little girl’s figure disappearing into the dark street. The weight that had been hanging in her throat finally settled in her stomach. She let out a long breath, her eyes shimmering. She inadvertently glancing at the bouquet he held, she quickly looked away.
“It’s not her fault; she’s just a child. The fault lies with her parents; they shouldn’t be Jews.” He stood up, tilting his head as if sighing, but also deliberately speaking to her.
Her gaze focused on his incredibly handsome face, staring at him in confusion. She couldn’t understand his words; in his eyes, the little girl could be forgiven for her ignorance. But she didn’t know what crime an ordinary grocery store owner could commit, or what crime an ordinary Jewish family could commit. Yet at this moment, she felt her heart grow heavier. She clutched the collar of her gown, as if the air outside was as oppressive as that inside the theater. Her obsidian-like eyes blinked rapidly, tears glistening at the corners.
He stared at her, taking in every expression on her face, his ice-blue eyes gradually darkening.
“Crack!” A cluster of roses fell to the ground. The flowers were so fragile that the moment they touched the ground, the petals immediately shattered. He turned to leave, his black boots inadvertently crushing the delicate stems, further breaking them. However, Khanyi was too preoccupied to care about the fate of the flowers. She lowered her head and quickly followed behind him; the driver had already brought the car.
“Back to the residence.” He sat directly in the front passenger seat, not even bothering to open the door for her. Khanyi opened the door herself and climbed into the back seat.
The stern driver said nothing, quickly starting the car. On the way back, he didn’t say another word, nor did he open the window as he usually did to let the night breeze in. The car windows were tightly closed, with no air circulation, and the atmosphere inside felt as if it had solidified. Khanyi found it somewhat difficult to breathe, knowing that this eerie silence always precedes a storm.
