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M E L

I am rushing to write him a letter to brush the deep agony that my departure would leave behind. We walked through the narrow road of marriage, tied by the vows we had pronounced at the altar that day. It was the happiest of my life.

I was the Beauty of my Father's tribe, from which I got banished. Whenever I walked around the village, I would have young men and women bowed down to my feet. They'd bathed the floor with roses after laying the royal carpet down, so my feet did not make contact with dust. As an unmarried Princess, there were none of my whims that remained unsatisfied. I was the beloved daughter, then, I became my father's shame.

My sin was a man and it was James Dawe Shun! He taught me that real happiness involves our loved ones. Sometimes, we have to lower our expectations so we don't focus on their flaws. I learned to cultivate humility in the hardest way. It takes considerable time and effort, especially when you're a sheep living in a house full of wolves.

"Mel?" I flinch, pushing the letter under the pillows behind me. It's James! I do not know how he could decide to come by the room tonight. I already gathered my belongings to abandon the house. I pull my small suitcase toward me and lift it down the bed. I drag it to the closet and lay a towel over it, so he does not see it.

"Honey, please. Open up!" As he insists, my heart drums against my chest from the tremendous inclination to see him. I have to remain quarantined for longer than I expected. We have not seen each other for six months. It is a tremendous challenge to keep him away. I have to make sure that my door remains close at all times so he would not creep in.

I am dying from a deadly disease called Marburg. I'll get James infected if we persist to fight the distance keeping us apart.

"James? You are not supposed to be here. You will get sick," I remind him.

A violent headache strikes me as a chest pain follows with a cough. I look down at my hand and notice a heavy amount of blood spilled on my palm. With haste, I reach for some tissue to wipe it off to not get him worried. I reach the door in plain agitation with the idea of sending him off. But, he is not wearing his mask, nor his gloves. He runs in as he drags me along towards the bed after slamming the door with his left foot. He clasps his hand over my mouth and we sit down facing each other. My heart keeps racing, for I fear that his love for me will be fatal for both of us. He is putting his health at risk and I can't even stop it from happening.

"Let me stay here with you tonight! Do not ask me to leave you in this dead place suffering alone." Tears run down my cheeks and he dries out each drop with the back of his hands.

"I wish I stayed in Africa and didn't rebel against my father," I sniff. "If I did, you wouldn't have to go through this." He shakes his head at the bitter truth while looking up at the large black scarf which I wrapped my head with. He draws himself closer and kisses my forehead. I sense a feverish sensation in my bones as he brings up his right shoulder under my chin. I was so desperate for him to hold me like this! On one hand, I have no words to describe how astonishing it is to see how comfortable he is to kiss my chapped lips. But on the other, I know he is hurting to see the grossing effects of the virus on my body.

My hair looks thin and keeps falling off. My eyes look worn out and my face as pale as someone's who had not eaten for weeks. I have gotten scrawny and as for my skin, it flakes away. Sometimes, when I itch my neck, it bleeds. My nails have become very sensitive. My health worsens despite the treatment and I doubt that I'll get any better.

My muscles sore which forces me to stay in bed most of the day. My solitude grows intense which makes me wonder if I'll meet the same fate as my mother. The day she died, my father reported that she was alone. I never liked to talk about her and less, now that I am ill and hopeless. It's a terrifying thought to die so solitarily.