Alan- In My Embrace

Noah, did you get in touch with Iva after that?

I messaged Noah today as soon as I got home from school. It had been on my mind earlier, but with all the hustle and bustle of preparing for the cultural event and the play, I couldn't find the right moment. But tonight is our play, and I can't wait any longer to talk to him about this.

No. Why are you asking?

I just wanted to update you. I thought you might have reached out to her first, but I can't wait around any more. If you'd forgotten, we're having our school cultural show tonight. And after our performance, I'm going to confess my feelings to Iva.

That's all I had to say.

I switched off my phone. It's not like I didn't want to hear his response. Far from it. It's just that, it doesn't matter anymore. I've made up my mind, and I'm going to follow my heart tonight.

The setting shifted to the churchyard of the Capulet, right before Juliet's tomb, where the story veered in an unexpected and tragic direction. Here, the narrative had taken a heart-wrenching twist. In a desperate bid to reunite with Romeo, Juliet had consumed a sleeping potion, her last attempt at love against all odds. Yet, cruel fate intervened; the message carrying the truth of her feigned slumber never found its way to Romeo's ears.

Unbeknownst to Romeo, he was plunged into a chasm of grief, believing his beloved Juliet to be lost to him forever. He then arrived right before Juliet's tomb, everything drowned out of the world around him, even its colors, determined to take his own life.

In the original story, the bridal flowers on Juliet's lap, as she waited for Romeo to come and take her, had turned into her funeral flowers.

The stage was bathed in a faint, haunting glow, allowing eerie shadows to dance across the set. I stood there, as Romeo, waiting for the curtains to rise up. I could see Iva, lying still in a beautifully crafted tomb. Paris, played by Mark, had left flowers at the tomb's gate.

Paris is the nobleman seeking Juliet's hand in marriage, all under the approving gaze of her parents, the esteemed Capulets. Unlike other characters, Paris, he's like the backdrop against which their passionate love blazes, a reminder of the rules and expectations that frame our lives.

"I'll water this hallowed ground with sweet water every night. Or if tears are all I have, then tears distilled by my moans shall suffice. The obsequies I offer thee shall be a nightly ritual—strewing your final resting place with flowers and weeping for your loss."

He's the embodiment of convention, the weight of society's norms. Yet, amidst the squall of the story, his role evolves and shifts like a river changing course. He walks the stage, blissfully unaware.

The sound of a whistle catches the attention of Paris, and Page, a servant of the Capulets, signaled that someone approached. Paris looks up. "Who disturbs these sacred rites and true love's tribute?" He wonders aloud, stepping back into the shadows. "Who carries a torch? I'll let the darkness conceal me for a while."

Up until this point, we've kept the story the same. It was the biggest problem we faced when we were rewriting the script... how do we go about with the story, when we want to alter the tragedy entirely?

As I approached the tomb, I felt the weight of the emotions I had to convey. I looked at Iva, pretending to be lifeless, and my heart ached. Is it even possible to grieve a love that was never truly mine? I thought, but there was no time for such pondering.

"O my love, my wife! Death, that has sucked the honey of your breath, had had no power yet upon your beauty," It wasn't a clear realization, but i could feel a tint of the nature of life and love that echoed along with them. The fragility of existence and how it intertwines with love's intensity.

As I knelt beside Juliet, Iva's portrayal of her lifeless form was so convincing that I momentarily lost myself in the scene. It was like standing at the edge of life and death, and the gulf between the two seemed so narrow.

Just then, Mark, as Paris, entered the stage again. "You're that arrogant Montague, banished from here," he seethed. "The one who murdered my love's cousin, and it is believed that this grief led to her death. And now he has come here to bring further shame upon the dead bodies. I will seize him."

Mark walks closer to me. "Cease your unholy actions, wretched Montague! Can vengeance go beyond death itself? You are a condemned villain, and I am taking you into custody. Obey and come with me, for your life will end soon."

"I must indeed; that's why I came here. Good-hearted young man, don't provoke a desperate soul. Run away from this place and leave me be. Reflect on those who are gone; let their fate frighten you. I beg you, young one, don't burden me with another sin by pushing me to rage. Oh, please, just go!"

"Are you making a mockery of me?"

"By heaven, I care for you more than myself. I have armed myself against my very being. Don't linger, be gone! Live, and in the future, tell the tale of how a madman's mercy urged you to flee."

"I refuse to yield to your threats and challenges. I am arresting you as a criminal right here and now." Mark pulls out his sword, pointing towards my neck.

"You dare provoke me? Then let the battle begin!"

As soon as the clash begins, the Page exclaimed in fear, "Oh Lord, they are fighting! I must go and call for help from the watch!"

Paris believed he was doing what was right, seeking justice for his beloved's tragic demise. To him, Romeo was a banished Montague, responsible for the death of his cousin and Juliet's sorrow, an embodiment of villainy that deserved apprehension. In his mind, he was the righteous avenger, ensuring that the wrongs committed against his loved ones did not go unpunished.

He's not to blame here. We're all the same, just like him. If the world is just like a stage, then we're the actors upon it; just playing our own roles. But is it really that hard... to want to know others, and understand them better?

Romeo's ideology was veiled in a tragic mix of love and self-condemnation. He grappled with the weight of his actions and the consequences they had wrought, recognizing the pain he had inadvertently caused. This place had become his refuge, a sanctuary that sought to bring an end to his existence—a quest for closure, a final farewell to the woman who had captured his heart. But despite his grief and internal struggles, Romeo's heart still held compassion, even for his rival.

As their swords clash, their duel symbolized more than just a physical confrontation—it represented a clash of ideologies, a struggle between justice and mercy, vengeance and forgiveness. Both Paris and Romeo were driven by their beliefs and emotions, each determined to uphold their principles, regardless of the consequences.

"You wretched Montague! Do you think I'll allow you to bring any more shame to my love?"

"Young man, don't force upon this madman to bring about your demise! I have no reason to live, for my heart is consumed by grief and guilt. The world has lost its light with the passing of my beloved Juliet. I cannot bear to live without her!"

"Despair clouds your judgment, Montague. Don't dare to believe that death will free you from everything."

"I see no hope, no purpose without her. Her love was my reason to live, and now that she's gone, I am but a hollow shell. Just let me be, leave here!"

Mark lunged forward, his sword clashing with mine. "Don't talk like you're the most tragic being alive! There are reasons to live beyond one person's love. I'll have you think about them after I get you locked up."

"Her loss has cast a shadow upon everything, young man. I am tormented by the thought that my actions led to her tragic end. My heart is burdened by guilt, and I cannot bear this heavyweight. I am beyond redemption. I am a cursed man, and death is the only peace that I deserve."

With each swing of the sword, Romeo's movements become burdened, and his once agile reflexes appear dulled by the haunting memories of the past. In the end, he's the one falling to the ground first.

"Death is not the answer, Montague. I'll not let you dishonor my beloved's memory. If it's death that you wish, then I'll bring it upon you with my own hands."

"Stop! Stop this madness!" A faint voice emerged from the shadows, like a soft creaking. A woman's voice.

"Who is it, a watchman, a servant, or some other creature?"

The darkness had taken root around us, making it hard for us to notice the presence approaching. Mark turned around to me again, his words dripping with venom, "Embrace your fate here, wretched Montague. So my kin can find peace." With a swift motion, his blade arced forth, poised to sever, yet just in that instant, the woman who had been drawing nearer interposed herself between me and Mark's glinting weapon. It was Iva. She had stepped in. Mark's sword found its mark, but not on me—it was Juliet, Paris' beloved, who absorbed the strike. She sagged into my arms.

"What have I done!? My flower, my true love. I never wanted this to happen."

As the lights gradually dimmed, and the curtain fell on the scene, I cradled Iva tightly within my embrace. And even in front of such a big audience, I wasn't feeling a tiny bit embarrassed. With my microphone switched off, I leaned in closer. "Did you feel any pain? Even though the sword is plastic, you didn't have to throw yourself in like that."

Her eyes flickered. "Don't say it like that. It's all about making it convincing. The realism matters more than a little discomfort."

I wished to stay lost in the depths of her eyes, but we had a story to conclude. Everyone got to prepare for the next scene.

In the aftermath of the tumultuous events that had unfolded, a fresh day dawned, adorning the sky in a canvas of gold and pink hues.

Let me make it short. In those crucial seconds, as Paris readied his sword to strike Romeo, a fleeting pause gripped him. Just like in the play, Paris wrestled with uncertainty before Romeo. And jealous, he wished he could grasp emotions like Romeo's, even though he had sought Juliet's hand for marriage.

Life is sometimes cruel, but equally giving. That's life after all.

"I never thought we'd find this happiness."

"Nor did I, my love. But fate has brought us through here. The moment I had mustered the courage to give my life to be with you... I understood... so this is love. Even in death, I wanted to stay with you."

"Of course, I'll stay with you too, no matter where our lives will lead us. Our fate might lead us to different paths, but even then... forever I want to stay with you."

The curtains fell for the final time, as Sarah's cheerful voice resonated through the theatre, showering the entire class with congratulations on a successful performance. "Good job, everyone. It was a total blast."

I let out a contented sigh, feeling the adrenaline slowly ebbing away as I dropped my arms behind me on the ground. "It's over... finally," I whispered to myself, savoring the sense of accomplishment that came with it.

As I turned to glance over my shoulder, I caught sight of Iva making her way backstage. I was about to call out her name, but before I could utter a word, she disappeared from view. I got up, however, before I could take a step, the rest of my classmates approached me, their smiling faces and congratulatory words engulfing me. They were celebrating our success, and I couldn't help but smile in return, appreciating their enthusiasm.

By the time I got to the backstage, she wasn't there anymore. I frantically approached my classmates one by one. "Hey, have any of you seen Iva? I can't find her anywhere," I asked, trying to sound composed but failing to hide the urgency in my voice. Out of all the times, where did she have to go now?

"Alan, if you're looking for Iva..." Jenny looked thoughtful for a moment before responding, "I think I saw her heading towards the back of the school building just a few minutes ago."

"Wait, are you sure? Why would she go there now?"

"I don't know. It was too dark in the corridor, so couldn't get a good look on her face."

My heart sank, knowing exactly where she might be. "Thanks, Jenny. I'll go look for her."

I hurriedly made my way through the hallways, my mind racing with thoughts. As I reached the rooftop, I hesitated for a moment, my footsteps slowing. I peeked through, as I saw her standing by the railing, her figure silhouetted against the moonlit sky, and my heart clenched at the sight.

Taking a deep breath, I approached Iva as quietly as I could, not wanting to startle her. I knew I had kept her waiting for too long, and this time, I was determined not to let things end without understanding what was in her heart. Gently, I wrapped my arms around her from behind, drawing her close to me. This time, Iva, I wouldn't hold back.

Her arms reached out, embracing mine, without a word spoken. I could feel the tremor in her touch, as if her emotions were resonating within me as well. No words escaped her lips, but her grip on my arms grew stronger, as if seeking reassurance.

"Iva, I know this is the second time I'm saying this, but it doesn't matter if your answer remains the same. I won't back down this time."

As I spoke, I could sense her struggle, feeling the weight of her emotions in the silence that enveloped us. But I needed to be patient, to give her the space she needed.

"I want to know more about you, Iva," I continued, my voice steady and soft. "How you think, how you feel... everything. And in return, I'll tell you about myself too. I want to understand you, to know the depths of your heart. And with everything I learn, I want to love you, Iva."

Her grip tightened even more, and I knew that my words were reaching her, that they were breaking through the barriers she had built. "I love you, Iva. I love you."