24991122 | 2217
Court of the Cherry Blossom | Kagetsu-no-Kami | The Bay
1°17′06.00″ N
103°51′06.12″ E
He saw her before she saw him.
He hadn’t seen her in close to a decade.
He strode over.
The man on her arm spotted him first.
She looked up.
Then over to him.
She was perfection personified.
Moonlit.
Aloft.
Graceful.
He remembered then.
She walking barefoot around the lake house.
Michael’s lake house.
His heart clenched.
She was perfect.
The way Michael used to look at her.
He approached slowly.
He called her name gently.
“Shirley.”
“Shannon.” She whispered.
Her expression softened.
“How are you?” he asked, opening his arms.
She walked into the embrace.
Like she belonged.
“I’m fine.” She whispered stiffly.
“Do you have a moment?” Shannon asked, “I would love to speak with you.”
“Sure.” She said.
Turning to the man, he extended a hand.
“Shannon Arden.”
“Damian Wei-Clarke.” He replied, a firm handshake.
“Arden? As in Arden Therapeutics?” he continued.
“That would be my brother, yes.” Shannon said.
“I’m so sorry, I’ve seen the news.” Damian replied, “he was a good man. Truly, the world will miss him.”
“Yes, well.” Shannon said, then softly, “do you mind if I speak to your lady, in private?”
“Sure – .” He was about to nod but Shirley cut in.
“Shannon, whatever we need to talk about,” she said gently, her arms holding firm, “I trust Damian to keep it.”
Shannon nodded.
They stepped outside.
She stood patiently.
Awaiting him.
Shannon struggled to find the words.
Shirley reached out.
She touched his forearm gently.
“It’s okay, Shannon.” She whispered, “it’s okay.”
He composed himself.
Trembling.
Shirley stood beside him.
“After Michael’s… passing,” he said, choking, “I tried to reach you.”
“I’m sorry.” She said, lips trembling.
“It’s alright.” He said soothingly.
She began to say something, but thought better of it.
“We buried him at the lakehouse,” Shannon continued, “We thought he would be happy there.”
“He is.” She whispered.
“Do you… still think of him? Sometimes?”
Her eyes flickered.
A shadow.
Pain.
Memory.
“Every day.” She replied.
A tremble.
He nodded.
He touched her arm gently, like a brother comforting a sister.
He looked at her, then at Damian.
“Know that Michael would want you to be happy.”
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And Shirley replies, barely audible:
“I know.”
He kissed her gently upon the forehead.
He nodded to Damian, and walked away.
Shirley stood there.
Unmoving.
Then she walked over to Damian.
She buried her face in his suit.
Her body went slack.
Her lips opened in a silent cry.
24991121 | 1217
The Elysium Winds | Singapore Strait | Singapore Maritime Borders
1°18′40.0″ N
104°03′10.0″ E
Sunlight higher now.
Salt wind drifting through the sunroof.
The sheets were tangled.
The room charged.
The bed no longer belonged wholly to one person.
Shirley lay on her side, hair spilled across the pillows.
She clasped his hand in hers.
Folding him close.
Even in sleep, she never let go.
Damian touched her shoulder.
She let him.
His thoughts went back.
They were back in the car.
In the dark.
The hum of the engine.
The warmth of her hand in his.
The drive farther down the quiet expressway.
Streetlights painting gold ribbons across the asphalt.
Her head resting upon his shoulder.
Her eyes far away.
“Shirley… have you ever thought about… you know…”
“A different life?”
She breathed out slowly.
Not a sigh.
A thought escaping her.
“Sometimes. But then I remember —” she paused.
“Different doesn’t always mean better.”
“I could make it better.”
She squeezed his hand lightly.
“You don’t have to save me, darling.”
It felt like a slap wrapped in silk.
She said it with such gentleness.
As she had said those words before.
To other men
In other cars
On other nights.
She stirred.
“You can ask, you know.” She said softly.
“About what?” he asked.
“The other men,” she finished for him.
“Does it matter?” he replied.
She turned to him.
“This was a mistake.” she said softly.
“You wanted this, remember?” he said. “I wanted this.”
“We wanted this.”
She turned away.
But she didn’t let go.
Her other arm reached up.
Encircling his face.
She pulled him in for a kiss.
“I won’t let go.” He said softly.
A promise.
Different doesn’t always mean better.
“This will have to be enough.” She whispered.
She pulled him closer.
She tucked his hand in hers.
Close to her chest.
She closed her eyes.
24991122 | 2248
Court of the Cherry Blossom | Kagetsu-no-Kami | The Bay
1°17′06.00″ N
103°51′06.12″ E
Prince Soren Fehr stood near the lantern-lit balustrade.
Speaking with small clusters of dignitaries.
He was conversing, smiling and nodding politely.
Damian straightened his suit.
“Alright,” he said, “follow my lead.”
Shirley latched on to him.
“I hope I don’t look fat in this.”
He took a long-suffering sigh.
They strode towards him.
To him, Soren was not a prince.
He was a friend.
A business ally.
The only man in the room.
That knew him, and perhaps does not know her.
Soren’s face brightened when he saw him.
“Damian!” he exclaimed.
Excusing himself, he walked past the dignitaries.
“I was beginning to think you are not going to show tonight!”
They clasped hands.
Firm, warm, genuine.
“Never, brother.” He smiled.
“I wanted you to meet someone.”
Soren noticed Shirley at his side.
His words stopped.
A breath caught.
He regarded her in silent awe.
Shirley lowered her eyes respectfully,
She said nothing
Awaiting the formal introduction.
Old World grace.
Old World etiquette.
“Your Highness,” Damian said, “this is Miss Shirley Tempess.”
Soren bowed.
As a man to a lady.
“My prince,” she dipped her head.
“Please, just Soren,” he said.
“Only if you call me Shirley then,” she replied, smiling.
“Forgive me, but…” he paused, “I feel I have seen you before.”
“Perhaps,” she said, “the world can be small in strange ways.”
Soren smiled faintly .
Damian cleared his throat.
“I’m going… to go get a drink,” he said, “you two want something?”
“No, thank you.” Soren and Shirley both said.
“Alright, I’ll… leave you two to get acquainted.” Damian said.
Turning to go.
“Make sure she’s treated well, Soren.”
Soren’s face flickered.
He nodded once, gently.
“Of course, my brother.” He said, “Always.”
Shirley gave Damian a soft, unreadable smile.
She gave his arm a squeeze.
She let him go.
Damian stepped back.
He turned away.
He strode towards the drink station.
He turned back.
Once.
Soren leaned in toward Shirley.
He said something light, admiring.
Shirley replied.
Damian kept walking.
His put one foot ahead of the other.
His ears ringing.
His chest tightening.
24991121 | 1847
The Elysium Winds | Singapore Strait | Singapore Maritime Borders
1°18′40.0″ N
104°03′10.0″ E
She awoke to the scent of roast fish.
She took his shirt and draped it loosely around her frame.
She squinted at the threshold.
The sun was low now.
Warm gold spilling across the waves.
She found him.
His back to her.
Standing in front of the grill set.
She stepped behind him.
Her hands brushing his waist.
He didn’t move.
Intent on the task before him.
Shirley peered over his shoulder.
“You never told me you could cook,” she whispered as she nibbled his ear.
“You never asked.” He said evenly.
“What are you making?”
“Something… local.”
The fillets layered on banana leaves.
Sizzled gently on the flat-top.
Sprinkled with curry and paprika.
Pinch of thyme and citrus.
“Smells delicious.” She said.
“Wait till you taste it.”
“Can’t wait,” she kissed him, “I’m hungry.”
He plated the dish.
One plate.
They ate with their hands.
“Hmm,” Shirley purred as she slurped her fingers.
“You like it?” He asked, looking at it.
“The best I’ve eaten.” She said.
She meant it.
“A simple recipe,” he smiled, “grandma’s.”
She looked at him.
“My comfort food,” he shrugged, “when I needed the quiet.”
“I love it,” she said softly.
He lifted the bottle of white from the ice bucket.
Popped the cork.
Poured her a glass.
Twilight.
They drank.
They talked.
They laughed.
She placed her hand on his.
“Come here.”
She pulled.
He didn’t budge.
He took her hand.
Gently.
“No,” he said, holding her.
She looked at him.
“This will be our last night.”
“I… want this moment.” He said, “To last.”
“Tell me more, about yourself.”
She smiled.
24991122 | 2248
Court of the Cherry Blossom | Kagetsu-no-Kami | The Bay
1°17′06.00″ N
103°51′06.12″ E
They spoke for long moments.
Of many things.
Of their share love of yachting.
Of her yearning to see the sunset upon the River NIles.
Of faraway Egypt.
Where Menon hailed the great river Niles from Memphis.
The conversation ends on a quiet, lingering smile from Soren.
He gestures with effortless grace toward the portside staircase.
“Would you like to see it? the Nile?
My flagship, the L'Aurore, is archored in Cairo."
Shirley's eyes twinkled,
"I will be delighted, my lord."
"I depart tomorrow,” he said, almost casually.
"It would give me great pleasure if you would honor me with your presence."
"May my people accompany me?" she asked.
Lightly.
"Of course," Soren smiled, "you will all be my guests of honor, aboard the L’Aurore."
A tilt of the head.
“I would be delighted, Your Highness.”
Soren smiled.
“With your leave,” she said, “I would like to bade farewell to our mutual friend.”
Soren’s lips curved.
“Of course,” he said, “Damian did make the introduction.”
She smiled and turned away from Soren.
Soren watched her go.
She glided across the blossom-lit deck.
To where Damian waited.
He watched her approached.
Shirley stopped before him.
Her back angled toward the prince.
She reaches out.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
She curled her fingers around his.
Her hand.
In the car.
By the dock.
In the cabin.
A lover, saying goodbye.
His breath shuddered.
His ribs tightened.
His pulse crawled up his throat.
He breathed out, steadied himself.
She leaned in.
Close.
Soft.
Dangerous.
Her forehead brushes his.
Her nose skims his cheek.
She kissed him.
A deep kiss.
A brief kiss.
A sweet kiss.
Heads turned.
To the world watching.
Affection.
Tender.
Lovely.
She pulled back.
Her eyes glistened.
A soft, impossible sadness.
“Thank you, darling.”
He nodded.
Ever so slightly.
“You will miss me when I am gone.”
She released his hand.
*
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*
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一つ月の夜、桜庭に一輪の花ひらく
