Muriel. Love Forever

 

The rain drummed softly against Muriel’s purple umbrella, each drop a tiny heartbeat in the crowded square. Behind her, the white-marbled fountain whispered its own music, water threading through the air like a secret. She stood still amid the bustle, a single calm point in the storm, her gloved fingers brushing over the golden heart-shaped locket at her throat. Inside were two faded black-and-white photos—faces from a life she longed to replace. Maybe tonight… maybe this time… she thought, hoping the empty spaces would finally be filled.

She checked her watch. Her pulse quickened.

And then—there he was.

Magnus slipped through the crowd with a purposeful grace, his hand reaching for hers before she could breathe. The moment his fingers closed around her glove, the world seemed to part for them, the path to the waiting hotel opening like a promise.

Inside, the concierge lifted away her umbrella while Magnus gently helped her out of her long black coat. The purple velvet dress beneath unfurled like a midnight blossom, clinging just right, her auburn hair cascading in soft waves to her waist, a single purple flower tucked above her ear. Magnus stared—entranced, almost startled—then offered his arm and led her toward the table prepared just for them.

He looked rougher than the polished surroundings: a suit that didn’t quite fit, shoulders a little too worn, a face mapped by time and choices. Yet Muriel’s smile illuminated him, smoothing every line. At six feet tall she nearly matched him, and for a moment the two of them seemed carved from the same improbable magic.

A faint mark circled his ring finger—a ghost of a vow. But his hand intertwined with hers across the linen tablecloth, steady, unashamed. Words weren’t needed… or perhaps the air was simply too thick with everything unsaid.

Dinner blurred into dancing, dancing into stolen glances and murmured phrases that trembled with meaning. On the dance floor they moved as though the world had narrowed to the space between their bodies, time unraveling around them. By the stroke of midnight they ascended the stairs, laughing breathlessly, their hearts racing like they’d outrun fate itself.

Come morning, sunlight spilled across tangled sheets. They hadn’t touched the night before—sleep had claimed them too quickly. But now their hands found each other with aching slowness, discovering, remembering, speaking softly of hope and futures and healing. Hours passed unnoticed as they explored each other’s hearts more than their skin, weaving something tender and impossibly new.

They were not strangers—not really. As children they had lived only doors apart, though Magnus, older and distracted, had barely noticed her. Life had scattered them in different directions until, months ago, a virtual world brought them face-to-face again. What began as Magnus’s attempt to ease a lonely, unfulfilled life turned into something far deeper. In hours of confessions, Muriel learned of his emptiness; he learned of her pain. His wedding ring had come off that night and had never returned.

Muriel carried her own shadows—an abusive relationship, a lost child, years of quiet suffering. She had been ready to surrender to despair the very night Magnus asked her to dance. Somehow they had saved each other.

And so they met—truly met—for the first time as adults. They clicked instantly, with a force neither of them had been prepared for. The weekend vanished in a haze of intimacy and shared breath, of quiet laughter and aching truths. When Sunday arrived, reality pressed hard against their fragile sanctuary. Their goodbye was a slow unravelling in the hotel lobby, their hands clinging until the last possible second.

Soon, they promised. But neither knew what soon meant.

---

Weeks later a parcel appeared on Muriel’s doorstep, wrapped with a purple bow that nearly stole her breath. Inside the card read:

To my darling Muriel.
Wear this, and meet me tomorrow night.
7pm. The same hotel.
—M

Her heart fluttered wildly. When she peeled back the tissue, a white gown shimmered beneath, dusted with tiny diamantés that caught the light like stardust. Too delicate, too beautiful—too symbolic. A white gown carried only one meaning.

Surely not… He couldn’t… He was still—

Yet the next evening, she wore it. It fit as if molded to her body, the skirt drifting around her like a dream. Her hair curled and swept up, the purple flower tucked back in place, Muriel felt like she was walking into a story she wasn’t sure she was ready to read.

But she went.

At the hotel door she was ushered inside, greeted with flowers, a warmth she hadn’t expected. And there was Magnus—waiting, smiling with an intensity that made her knees weaken. He twirled her through the lobby, laughter spilling from her lips before she could contain it.

Then he sank to one knee.

Her heart stopped.

“Muriel—my own princess. You have made me complete. Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

A ring glimmered on a velvet cushion, woven silver and gold wrapped around purple and diamond stones shaped like a heart.

“But—we can’t…” she whispered, trembling.

Magnus rose slowly, the widest smile she had ever seen breaking across his face.

“My darling… I wanted to wait until I could tell you in person. She’s gone. She passed away peacefully that morning. I am free—truly free—to choose my future.”

Muriel reeled. The room tilted. People around them watched, breath held tight.

Magnus pressed a folded document into her hand.

Her eyes skimmed the certificate.

Relief flooded her—warm, startling, overwhelming.

“Oh Magnus… yes. Yes—absolutely yes!”

The ring slid onto her finger amid applause and soft gasps. Moments later they exchanged vows, simple and swift but filled with a passion that lit the room bright. Confetti drifted like snow as Magnus swept her into his arms and carried her upstairs, where they lost themselves again in a storm of devotion and promise.

Within weeks they had built a life together, a life thick with love and heat and fierce, unbreakable certainty.

For the rest of their days, passion lit every step they walked—two wandering souls finally, irrevocably, home.