the lightest strokes of our brushes on the canvas, we sketched green meadows, golden suns and blue skies. How could we have fathomed that all of it would be tainted by filthy blood, its former beauty no longer able to be recognised? Will people forget our loves, hates, and thoughts, only to remember this era for its terror, sins, and filth? Will history forgive us? For our good wills?"

"I forgive you," Edith embraced his waist from behind, her voice quivering, "I forgive you."

"Since the beginning of the revolution, I have been prepared to face death at any moment. In defense of virtue and truth, what harm is it to forsake a trivial life? Only the thought of having to part with you, overwhelms my heart with pain and weakness!" Andre slumped onto her bed, unable to bear the anguish, and turned his gaze away.

"Let me join you! I''m also willing to die for liberty!" Tears welled up in her eyes, and she let out an agitated cry, almost with joy.

"No!" He grasped her hand tightly, earnestly looking into her eyes. "Don''t make a futile sacrifice. I have been away from this home for months. They won''t involve you all. Promise me, my dear Edith, promise me that you will live on well for me. Promise me!"

Edith felt unable to refuse that gaze. Her lips moved several times, but in the end, she nodded to him. "Um. I promise you."

She lay down on the bed wistfully, pulling Andre''s hair to bring him closer. He kissed her with a mix of force and submission, and the scorching, dampened bodies of the two young lovers nestled together.