It was a cold night. The young woman looked up into the sky, cold. She hated being like this, forced to put on a happy face even if her heart cried. As she watched the party go on, she knew that she should be joining them, yet she chose to turn away. His face came into her mind, unbidden. She knew that he was down there, among the crowd, dancing with the girl she had welcomed into her home. The girl was a beautiful young thing, sincere, kind, though sharp with her tongue. She had some idea of the man’s regard for her, but had chosen to said nothing.
The woman sighed deeply. She had friends who cared for her, friends who did not let her down. Her family loved her in their own way, although she did not always follow their instructions. Yet she was unhappy. No, unhappiness was not the right word; she was more lonely. He had broken her heart, but before he did, he had broken her, and she was still recovering from it. If only she could let it go, truly forgive him, but she found it hard to do so. She found herself obsessing over him, and feeling her days with activities to forget him only brought the urge back stronger, which she was determined to fight.
Holding her breath, she willed herself to not even think of crying. He had promised that he would not make the same mistake he had done with her to the girl, but she was not assured. She knew her current actions could have the effect of pushing the two into each other’s arms, which would break her heart even further. But they were old enough to decide on their own; it was just her own heart that she had a hard time controlling. It did not help, of course, that the men she was most interested in either saw her as their equal, but nothing more, or they saw her merely as a friend who needed comfort.
She refused to let the tears fall. Not on this day, which would carry its meaning over the rest of the year. No, this was a time for them to be happy. For everyone to celebrate.
Not a time to cry.