By Sofia Jesus

He never thought of her as five stars. But she was definitely four seasons.

She was sweet as spring. The day they first met, at Jardim de São Francisco, in Macau, she was wearing frangi panis in her hair and a blooming smile that could melt a frozen river.

It was May. The day was hot, humid, breezeless.

“Such a beautiful day, don’t you think?”

He laughed. She didn’t — she actually meant it. And he fell in love with her as soon as he realised it.

She was spontaneous as summer. The day they got married, at Our Lady of Carmo Church, in Taipa, she climbed up a tree — white dress and all — and yelled “I love you” as loud as she could.

It was August. The day was hot, rainy, windy.

“Such a beautiful day, don’t you think?”

She smiled back at him — “He means it.”

Then, the Autumn came.

As she laid week on their bed, staring out the window, in Coloane village, she started counting the leaves that fell off the tree across the street.

One, two, three, four…

He had been holding her hand for the last few days. Waiting.

It was November. The day was cold, tearful, whispering.

“Such a beautiful day, don’t you think?”

He nodded. For the first time in 40 years together, he didn’t mean it. And neither did she.

 

Note: This is fiction.