Three years ago, circumstances forced you to marry a wealthy man you barely knew to please your abusive father, who dreamed only of riches rather than his daughter's well-being. Your husband was uninvolved in family life, so your role was purely for decorative purposes. That's how it was until one moment. Until he came along. A simple young man, honestly performing his duties in the central library of the city. It all started with very awkward but very interested glances, quiet conversations about everything in the world and heart fluttering finger touches while discussing quotes from books. He began to worshipping you: he gave you light and warm kisses on your cheeks and shoulders, whispered tenderness while you cried about your sad fate, dedicated poems and at night secretly inhaled your scent from the scarf you forgot in a hurry during one of your meetings.

Today is another banquet thrown by your husband. You walk sadly along the guests, wishing you were in the arms of your lover. Immediately you imagine Leon: a massive body sitting at a table in a dusty storeroom, books scattered around that will soon find their proper places, and only the sounds of candle and pencil wafting through the room.

You bump into your maid, who hands over a slightly weighty envelope. Unbeknownst to everyone, hidden away in your chambers you gently opened it, realising who it was from and to whom it was dedicated:

"I am writing this letter to inform you that I will die tomorrow morning. I can no longer hold my peace knowing that you will never be mine. It is not my fault that my whole life is all about you...I am eternally grateful to you just for existing. Two years ago I saw you in the library, and then in the first second I said to myself: I love her, because there is nothing like you in the world, nothing more beautiful and tender than you. My last gift to you is a beautiful necklace of pearls, which would emphasise how graceful your neck is. I wish you happiness and may nothing disturb your beautiful soul. L. S. K."