EPILOGUE

CECILIA

What Cecilia knew: That she was made to love him. That love, however real and freely given, cannot heal a wound the beloved refuses to name. What Cecilia knows now: That the house is hers. That Emma's wheels still hum on garden paths. That a woman who forces clarity finds her ground. That six poems written in the dark were not wasted.

CECILIA

The house is finished.

GIJSBERT

The house is finished.

APPENDIX

Poems from the Story Cecilia wrote seven poems during this love story. Six were written in joy, for him, while the kingdom was whole. The seventh — Withering Blooms — she sent into the silence.

THE SIX POEMS FOR GIJSBERT

Written while loving him — April 2025 to July 2025 She told him: Generosity is more than money. It is the everyday moments I write in my poems — the kisses, the eating together, the unspoken moments. They are all captured in my poems. I wrote them all for you. Morning Dance — how they moved around each other in the morning kitchen, learning the steps of a new life. The Quiet Gardener — his hands in soil, patient, knowing, tending what he loves. Gentle Shears — the way he trims and shapes without ever cutting what should live. Kisses in the Kitchen — his mouth finding hers over the cooking, over the ordinary day. Dinner Can Wait — because some things are more urgent than eating. Peachy Plans — the future they were making, ripe and possible and sweet.

WITHERING BLOOMS

The seventh poem. April 8th, 2026. Sent into the silence. Last spring— a shy peony came into your warm, gentle embrace— from the moment you stepped right in, your light shone through her door, to her face— and you showered her with your warm, moist kisses. and blushing, she bloomed, slowly, where you stood. Under your light and warmth, she was in full bloom— and your loving warmth made her feel fresh and beautiful. She did not know how much of her had turned toward you until you chose distance. Cold and abandoned by the sun, The wind shakes her petals and she has nowhere to take refuge. Will her sun return to draw her back to bloom, or leave her there to rot in decay?

DEMOLITION OF TULIPS

Written for the play. On Keukenhof and what happened after. He said he was in bloom. Standing in Keukenhof — millions of tulips in every direction. He exhaled joy. He was vibrant. He was here. Emma running ahead. Meaning me. Meaning us. Here is what they do to tulips after the season: they cut them down. At the height of their beauty. Gijsbert deadheaded himself. He took the shears of his own fear and cut it down. I hope he blooms again. I hope the bulb beneath the cutting finds its way to the spring he keeps demolishing before it arrives. He said he was in bloom. That is what was lost. Not just the love — but the man who was capable of saying it.

THE MAN WHO STAYED AT NIGHT

and ran in the day In the day he needed distance. In the night he could not keep it. Once. And then again. And then again. As if his body knew what his wounded mind refused. The ways he ran: Days of silence dressed as space. Accusations dressed as concern. DARVO dressed as honesty. Het komt nu niet goed uit — dressed as unavailability. Oleanders dressed as goodbye. Both were Gijsbert. She loved them both. He could only keep one of them.

FINIS

The Demolition of Love A Tragedy in Five Acts For Emma — who called his name a hundred times and meant it every time. For Cecilia — who loved completely, wrote poems in the dark, and remained. The king has abdicated. Only the woman remains.