Up until his fateful encounter, Broehain was having a completely normal day. The young man woke up early to tend to his family farm. Afterwards, he wandered into the heart of the village. He brought a couple of large, juicy, red apples with him to munch on whilst he sat on the roof of a small hut, watching the people bustle about. The town he called his home never had anything exciting going on, except your occasional, non-changing, bland festivals. So, he always resorted to the only somewhat entertaining activity he could think of: people-watching.

Broehain bit into his apple with content, savoring the flavorful juice. Whilst eating the apples, he observed an older gentleman attempt at selling an umbrella made from leaves and a thin stick. C’mon old man, you have to do better than that, he thought, laughing at how he tried to catch other’s attention. Even after Broehain left for supper and returned to his spot on the roof, the old man never gave up; he waved his item around all day trying to sell at least one umbrella. After hours of advertising, someone finally turned their head to him. Broehain sat up.

A young woman had approached the man with the umbrella. Broehain couldn’t clearly see her face, since her back was facing him. She conversed with the old man, laughing and smiling with each other until she gave him her payment and took the umbrella. The man thanked her multiple times before she turned around and began walking again. Broehain’s world seemed to stop.

The anonymous woman was beautiful. Almost too beautiful. Her golden hair perfectly crowned her head and framed her face. Freckles scattered across her velvety skin. Her eyes reminded Broehain of emeralds, illuminating the evening streets with their lively glow. Her vibrant smile seemed to be contagious because the corners of his lips followed suit. Broehain couldn’t even fit words together to describe such beauty. He had never seen this woman before, but he was so glad he stumbled upon her. What is someone like her doing in such a dull place?  He wondered.

She found her way down the street, strolling along everyone else but emitting a different light. Broehain couldn’t lose her; he had to see her more, even if it was only for a minute, even a second. His heart leaped in its stead as he rushed off the roof and made his way through the crowd. He never took his eyes off the woman; if he did, he was sure to lose her.

Some time later, they came to a clearing. He hid behind bushes and trees as he continued to follow her to wherever she was headed; the woman began to sing gladly to a nameless tune. Oh, her voice, he thought, butterflies erupting in the pit of his stomach. It was almost like silk against his eardrums. It was the most calming sound he’d ever been exposed to. If she was a siren, his ship had already crashed. He followed her until they reached a small little cottage home on the other side of a hill.

While she continued walking, Broehain climbed the hill to continue watching her. He was aware that what he was doing might be considered creepy, but in the moment, he didn’t care what anyone thought; he was too mesmerized by her beauty. Too enhanced. Too in love. He’d never believed in love at first sight until now. Broehain thought, I haven’t even met her. I don’t even know her name. But still, he didn’t care; he knew the feeling he was expressing towards the woman: love. Pure love and admiration.         

He watched her closely as she entered her garden after setting her things by the door. The garden was quite large, taking up most of the room behind the hill; all the plants looked flawlessly grown and cared for; Broehain scanned the garden, very impressed. The woman continued to sing, while Broehain continued to smile at the sound. She weaved her hands through plants of all types, checking and smiling at things occasionally. He could tell gardening was her hobby; it was almost too obvious.

The woman suddenly stopped and stared at a plant in the garden. Broehain froze with her. she didn’t stay still for long though; she jumped up and squealed, reaching her hand into the depths of a plant. When her hand was visible again, it cupped a fresh, juicy, red tomato. The smile on her face was indescribable. Broehain’s irises shined, and his pupils enlarged at how gleeful she became. It must’ve been hard to grow, he thought; it would only make sense. She twirled and danced while she gawked at the tomato in her hands, beyond ecstatic at her new plant.

But Broehain’s eyes sunk just as quickly as they sparkled. The woman reached up her free hand and called out a name he couldn’t understand; a few seconds past, then a man came out of the cottage, jogging towards the garden. He approached her with a questioning look on his face. She held out the tomato to him, smiling so brightly. He examined it, then took it from her grasp to take a closer look. He too smiled, though it was nothing compared to hers, and he scooped the woman up in his arms and spun her around as she giggled. He laughed with her, then united their lips, enveloping her in a passionate kiss.

Broehain’s world stopped once again. His chest ached, feeling like a sword had struck his heart. His mind whirled with jealousy, misery, frustration, confusion; he’d never been so distraught in his life. He sat back, staring at the man who wasn’t him. Broehain wasn’t the one embracing her flawless figure; he wasn’t the one making her laugh and smile until her face hurt; he wasn’t the one feeling her soft lips against his; he wasn’t the one sharing a cottage with her; he wasn’t the man she loved. There was no chance. It was too late. Broehain was too late.

Broehain couldn’t stand the sight before him anymore. He ran down the hill, while tears ran down his face. He choked on his breath and sobbed harder than he could’ve ever imagined. His wretched state was so overwhelming he was sure his body couldn’t take it and would give out any second. He wanted to crawl in a hole where no one would find him and cry for an eternity. But he never stopped running until he got to his barn. He flopped down on the hay and wailed so loudly he was sure he awoke the animals. his eyes were red, puffy, and throbbing as he continued to sob, and sob, and sob. Broehain was sure at some point his tears would run out, but they lasted the entire night until finally sleep welcomed him.

Oh, how Broehain envied the woman’s lover. He wanted so desperately to be in his place, but he knew he couldn’t, because she was already happy. All that mattered to Broehain was if she was happy. Even if it meant not being with the woman he loved. That was enough closure for him. But still, the closure was a painful and heartrending. Broehain ached continuously with sorrow and heartbreak. But he pushed aside his melancholy and went to watch the garden woman every day to see her beautiful body, mind and soul. She gardened every day, and sometimes had picnics outside with her lover. He tried to stop his tears by smiling at her happiness, but it never did justice.

Broehain was in love with the garden woman until the end of his days. Although this story’s ending wasn’t so content, maybe one day, when his soul is reincarnated into the world again, Broehain will finally meet garden woman. Then, he will be healed and given the best closure possible: to call her his wife, and their love flourishing like the wonderful garden she cherished.