#28.
07-18-THU-14:00.
Sender: Juliet〈[email protected]〉
Recipient: Cordelia〈[email protected]〉
Why were you late this morning?
You’re always so punctual.
Be honest.
You slept with Liam, didn’t you?
* * *
07-18-THU-14:42
Sender: Cordelia〈[email protected]〉
Recipient: Juliet〈[email protected]〉
Juliet, you’re the most oblivious person I know.
No, maybe second most.
Anyway, stop guessing and just go look for Romeo.
I haven’t even kissed Liam, let alone slept with him.
He’s so much of a gentleman that he doesn’t even hold my hand recklessly.
He just calmly extends his large hand, waiting for mine to rest in his.
It almost makes me feel like a Victorian lady, which is a pretty nice feeling, but I’m worried he’ll even ask for permission when we finally kiss.
What should I say to sound elegant if he asks, “May I kiss you?”
That’s my biggest concern these days, dear friend.
* * *
07-18-THU-14:50
Sender: Juliet〈[email protected]〉
Recipient: Cordelia〈[email protected]〉
As soon as he gets to “May I ki—” you should just attack with your lips, you fool.
But if things are moving at that pace, you’ll be in the grave before you even sleep with him.
Why don’t you take the lead instead?
Wait, I’m working on an Andrew Marvell poem that might help.
“If we had all the time in the world, I’d spend a hundred years admiring your lovely eyes,
and two hundred years adoring your breasts, … but time’s winged chariot is ever near, so let’s tear through the pleasures swiftly in our fleeting moments.”
How about that? With a poem like this, Liam might not only tear through the pleasures with you but even shatter them.
Nothing works like romantic poetry to woo those classicists, I swear.
* * *
07-18-THU-15:00
Sender: Cordelia〈[email protected]〉
Recipient: Juliet〈[email protected]〉
1. Juliet, Liam doesn’t have breasts. He does have a firm chest, though, and did I mention how great his body is?
2. I don’t particularly like Andrew Marvell, but I do like the idea of tearing through pleasures. I think my friend would like it. Send me the full poem, please.
3. About the raspberry vanilla cream rare cake recipe you sent me this morning. Is it correct? I was about to look it up myself, but now I’m suddenly doubting if you sent it right, my dear friend.
* * *
07-18-THU-15:12
Sender: Juliet〈[email protected]〉
Recipient: Cordelia〈[email protected]〉
Oh, right.
What were you doing so early that you suddenly needed a cake recipe? Don’t tell me you were making it for Liam and ended up being late because of that? If that’s the case, I’d advise against it, friend. That’s not like you.
And can you stop doubting my recipe?
Also, that recipe has a bit of history behind it. There was this cookbook that got scrapped during the work for the 100th anniversary of *Anne of Green Gables*. I dug through the draft to find it. ‘Raspberry Vanilla Cream Layer Cake.’ Isn’t it the one Anne made to impress the minister’s wife, but she ruined it by adding painkiller instead of vanilla extract?
If you really want it, be nice to me, Cordelia. I’ll just make it for you. Otherwise, if you try to make it, you’ll probably put something worse than a painkiller in it. Do you even have an oven at home?
* * *
07-18-THU-15:13
Sender: Cordelia〈[email protected]〉
Recipient: Juliet〈[email protected]〉
An oven?
Of course not.
I don’t even have a decent toaster, so I’m thinking about ironing my bread instead. Do you really think I’m considering making a cake?
It’s just some cute kid who asked me for help. I gave them *Anne of Green Gables* as a gift, and now they want to try making that cake themselves. They’d make a perfect pair with you, but there’s a bit of a physical and time-related distance issue here.
P.S. If that scrapped draft is still around, hand it over. I’ll buy you dinner in exchange.
* * *
07-18-THU-15:50
Sender: Juliet〈[email protected]〉
Recipient: Cordelia〈[email protected]〉
I’ve attached the draft as a file.
Don’t be lazy and make sure you print it in color before you leave work.
P.S. Liam is a dad! That kid must be Liam’s, right? I’m sure I’m right!
* * *
07-18-THU-17:00
Sender: Cordelia〈[email protected]〉
Recipient: Juliet〈[email protected]〉
No way.
Liam is mysterious, yes, but as far as I know, there’s no kid involved, so you can relax.
That kid is just my friend’s child. Actually, no, it’s a kid my friend knows.
Speaking of which…
Juliet, have you ever liked two people equally at the same time?
* * *
07-18-THU-17:00
From: Juliet <[email protected]>
To: Cordelia <[email protected]>
Cordelia,
Could you please save this kind of question for around 2 PM on a Monday when it feels like time is crawling? How could you bring up such an interesting topic an hour before the end of the workday?
That friend of yours, it can’t be Gareth, right?
Mark?
Are you still seeing Mark?
Is Mark sending roses to your house now, not the office?
* * *
07-18-17:01
From: Cordelia <[email protected]>
To: Juliet <[email protected]>
Are you crazy? I really can’t stand him.
You might ask what I really can’t stand about him, so let me just tell you—did you know he followed me all the way to my house last time?
He asked why I wasn’t answering his calls and said that otherwise, everything he did for me would mean nothing. So I took out whatever secret safe or whatever it was and told him to just take it and go, but then he suddenly brought up the trip to Edinburgh from last time.
I even let it slide that we didn’t sleep together on that trip, but he started berating me, asking if I had any idea how rude that was. I was so dumbfounded I just ignored him and went up the stairs. Then he followed me up, yelling that if I thought he did it because he liked me, I was wrong—that he only did it to get a book out of me.
* * *
07-18-17:03
From: Juliet <[email protected]>
To: Cordelia <[email protected]>
Wow, shocking. So what did you do? You should’ve called me.
Mark Laughlin, what a joke.
He was just making excuses about the book because he was panicking.
Did he seriously think saying he approached you for a book would somehow restore his pride?
Tell him it’s obvious he used that as an excuse when things didn’t work out between you two.
* * *
07-18-17:20
From: Cordelia <[email protected]>
To: Juliet <[email protected]>
I don’t know, I don’t even want to think about it anymore.
But since there’s been no further contact through Marianne, I don’t think I’ll be seeing him again.
If you had been around that day, I would’ve called you, of course. But you were off traveling with your Romeo at the time, right?
I didn’t have anyone else to call. You know Liam, being the “classical type,” doesn’t even have a phone. So that night, I just cried myself to sleep alone.
Normally, I actually liked that Liam didn’t use a phone.
Since he didn’t have one, we always had to make plans in person, which made it so that no matter what, we had to keep those promises. Even though we couldn’t call every night, it felt really romantic and special when he’d show up out of nowhere and toss pebbles at my window like Romeo.
But that night, I was just angry. Not that Liam had done anything wrong—it was Mark’s fault for pulling that kind of stunt. But I was already upset because a letter I’d been waiting for hadn’t arrived, and my mood was off.
So I went to see Liam and just unloaded all my anger on him. I couldn’t say anything to Mark, but I ended up venting on the one person I was comfortable with, which was awful.
But then, he understood me. Even though I was acting like a crazy woman, he didn’t get mad or frustrated—he just said sorry. He apologized for not having a phone, for not being there for me. And then he went straight into the nearest store and bought a phone on the spot.
That night, he walked me home because he was worried I’d be scared, and, in the end, he came into my room.
As soon as he came into the room, he looked around in surprise.
“It’s really just three steps.”
He walked across the room with long strides and then said that, laughing. Honestly, it wasn’t all that annoying.
Like you said, he really does seem like a rich kid from some aristocratic family with too much time on his hands.
He doesn’t seem to do much of anything, but he exudes that effortless ease. Even his refined, old-fashioned way of speaking kind of makes sense when you think about it.
Anyway, apart from that silly “three steps” comment that made him sound like some spoiled rich kid, he was otherwise a total gentleman.
He waited for me while I showered, then gently laid me in bed and covered me with the blanket. It was all perfectly graceful.
* * *
07-18-17:21
From: Juliet <[email protected]>
To: Cordelia <[email protected]>
Are you insane? You totally slept with him.
Right? Oh please, just tell me you did, Cordelia.
If you didn’t, I’ll kill you and Liam both.
Spill it. What happened?
P.S. If you did, I expect detailed descriptions of positions and how many times.
* * *
07-18-17:30
From: Cordelia <[email protected]>
To: Juliet <[email protected]>
Juliet!
I already told you we didn’t even kiss, let alone anything else.
Let me just warn you now, you’re not going to get the story you’re hoping for here.
I lay down in bed. It was raining heavily that night, so it was a bit cool. A soft summer breeze was blowing in from the window. He tucked me in, then knelt down on one knee by the bed like some knight protecting his princess, just watching me.
Then he simply said, “Good night.”
I asked if he was planning to leave once I fell asleep, and he said no, not tonight. He’d stay until morning. You know as well as I do how tiny my place is—there isn’t even room for a sofa. There’s nowhere to sleep except the bed. And I swear, Juliet, some “Juliet” inside me kicked in. Without thinking, I asked him to come lie down with me. He was a bit surprised but didn’t refuse. Thinking back now, I wonder if he agreed just because he knew I’d feel awkward if he turned me down.
When his large frame climbed into my bed, I got a little nervous. The bed was so small that we ended up touching slightly. To get comfortable, there was no choice but to hold each other. I put my arm around his neck first, and then he pulled me into his arms. His embrace was much firmer and warmer than I expected, and I started to drift off.
I think I dozed off for a bit, but when I woke up, I was startled to realize I was still in his arms. He laughed and asked, “What were you thinking, dragging me into bed like this?” But it wasn’t like other guys, where they’d start pestering you—he just seemed to be teasing me to help me relax.
It was clear he knew I wasn’t planning to take things further. He simply kissed my forehead, stroked my back, and said, “Sleep well. I’m going to sleep too, so don’t get any funny ideas.”
I giggled at that, and I think I must have fallen asleep without even realizing it.
Juliet, you’re probably going to call me a fool.
You’ll probably say the same to Liam.
But I’m actually glad we didn’t do anything. If we had, I think I’d be regretting it by now.
And even though we didn’t sleep together, the truth is, Liam and I have gotten a bit closer since then.
Now that he has a phone, we can stay in touch more often.
Liam mostly calls in the mornings. He’ll ask if I’m up, if I’m heading to work, and tell me not to be late before hanging up awkwardly. It’s funny, talking to him on the phone—like he’s someone who’s never used one in his life.
Sometimes he calls to see if I want to walk home together after work, but he almost never calls late at night. If I call him, he answers right away as if he’d been waiting, but he’s never called me first. That routine leaves my nights feeling strangely empty.
The ‘other guy’ I mentioned earlier tends to call me mostly at night.
* * *
07-18-17:33
From: Juliet <[email protected]>
To: Cordelia <[email protected]>
I really want to complain one more time. Why are you telling me all this exciting stuff at this hour?
There are 30 minutes left until the end of the workday, so hurry and tell me more.
There’s another guy besides Mark and Liam?
And this guy only comes to you at night?
Congratulations, Cordelia. You’re at the peak of your life right now.
P.S.: Is this ‘other guy’ someone you only have sex with? Please say yes. Then I’ll truly respect you, my friend.
* * *
07-18-17:40
From: Cordelia <[email protected]>
To: Juliet <[email protected]>
Juliet, don’t you know me better than that?
A ridiculously handsome and well-built guy comes into my room.
We’re lying in bed together, and I’m hesitating—that’s your friend.
Do you really think I’m capable of having a purely sexual relationship with anyone?
Please, think about who your friend is and really listen to me.
Who else would I tell this to but you?
When I’m with Liam, nothing else crosses my mind.
It feels like we’re wrapped in glass, like the two of us are in a world of our own.
Sometimes I get so overwhelmed by how much I like him that it feels like something is welling up in my chest.
I like him so much that I can’t even contain the feeling.
But then, in the middle of all that, I suddenly have this thought.
I should tell ‘him’ about this. The ‘other guy.’
It’s not the same as wanting to chat with you, Juliet.
Lately, I’ve been waiting for the night, every day.
When it gets dark and I hear from him, I can tell him everything.
Even what happens with Liam.
Sometimes, I wish he’d get jealous of Liam and me.
But other times, I want to completely hide anything about Liam from him.
It’s so frustrating that he doesn’t get jealous over my love life and just thinks of me as a friend.
And you know what? Sometimes I look at Liam and have this thought.
That Liam is really similar to him.
And I wonder if that’s why I fell for Liam.
* * *
07-18-17:45
From: Juliet <[email protected]>
To: Cordelia <[email protected]>
The conclusion is clear.
First, you like that guy more than Liam.
Second, the fact that you’re not going to him means he’s married.
Third, that kid who said he liked Anne of Green Gables earlier—he’s that guy’s kid, isn’t he?
Fourth, if that’s true, let’s hit the pub after work.
It’s best not to get involved in dangerous love, Cordelia.
P.S.: If none of this is true, just date both Liam and that guy. As your favorite Anne of Green Gables said, it’s not entirely rare to meet a kindred spirit in this world. You just got lucky enough to meet two at once.
* * *
07-18-17:55
From: Cordelia <[email protected]>
To: Juliet <[email protected]>
Let’s not even go there, Juliet.
You’re wrong about the first, second, and third points.
The fifth suggestion is shockingly blasphemous. Don’t you dare use Anne of Green Gables to justify two-timing!
I’ll take a rain check on buying you dinner. Today, I need to pass along the recipe you gave me to the little one.
Let’s at least leave work together.
* * *
07-18-18:00
From: Juliet <[email protected]>
To: Cordelia <[email protected]>
Fine, thanks to you, 6 PM came faster today.
Tomorrow, let’s start chatting earlier.
* * *
To my Prince,
We need to set some limits on our late-night emails.
Today, I woke up in a rush, screaming. I completely overslept. If my friend hadn’t agreed to call me every morning to wake me up, I probably would’ve slept till noon.
And yet, in all that chaos, I still asked Juliet for a cake recipe and left it in our magical box as quickly as I could. I apologize for not including a letter, but it’s truly shameful that you didn’t even send a thank-you note! Where is your gentlemanly grace?
…Surely, you didn’t fall ill after eating a disastrous cake because the recipe arrived too late?
Please tell me that Noel successfully made the cake during the 8 hours I was working. It would be such a rewarding thing for me to hear.
P.S.: Juliet gifted Noel something she’ll love—a book with recipes for every dish mentioned in Anne of Green Gables.
7.18. Evening.
—Hoping Noel and Flynn will try out many more recipes, your Coco.
* * *
To my beloved Coco,
I think I forgot to mention something important.
Neither Noel nor Flynn has any talent for cooking, to be perfectly fair.
Even when making a simple stew, they manage to add the most creative ingredients imaginable, creating a taste that should never exist in this world.
So, I’ve discreetly handed over the recipe book you gave me to the monastery’s meal planner, without Noel and Flynn noticing. Thanks to you, our dinner menu will be much richer, and for that, I owe you great thanks.
Noel has officially retired from the culinary world after making her eighth layered cake today. Of course, everyone at the monastery cheered.
Still, Coco, because of your recipe, her last attempt wasn’t a complete disaster. And I’m not just saying that to please you—you can feel good knowing your rushed recipe was worth it, even on a busy morning.
While eating her final cake, Noel made a rather chilling comment.
“Last night, my prince, when nothing was working, I even thought about pulling an Anne and adding painkillers to the cake.”
…If you’d been even a little later, I might not be holding this pen right now.
By now, you’re probably scolding me for not having thanked you yet, aren’t you? Go ahead and chastise me all you want. I’ll just throw it right back at you.
Cordelia, today I finally read *Anne of Green Gables.*
Now I understand why you love this book so much. The heroine, Anne Shirley, reminds me so much of you!
Though, admittedly, you seem to be lonelier than Anne, but she’s smart, imaginative, and always lively—just like you. I even started to understand Gilbert Blythe’s feelings when he teased Anne by calling her “Carrots” and pulling her hair.
Even though teasing isn’t the right way to express affection, it’s something us immature men do to grab attention in any way possible.
If I did that to you, though, you’d probably knock me over the head with a slate and never forgive me for ten years, wouldn’t you?
Honestly, living in the same village as you, spending my teenage years hopelessly in love with you, doesn’t sound like such a bad idea. Yes, I’ve fully embraced my role as Gilbert Blythe.
But, Cordelia, do you know there’s someone else in my life who’s just as vibrant and volatile as Anne?
It’s not Cecilia, of course. My sister is simply violent, without the charm. No, I’m talking about Florian.
That kid has a fiery temper, and just today, he gave me a good scolding.
Noel asked me for a piggyback ride, and when I agreed, Florian practically yelled at me, saying I shouldn’t be overexerting myself when I’m not fully recovered. His voice rang out so loudly, I feared my shoulder would break again.
Besides his temper, though, he has this Anne Shirley-like quality about him. When we arrived at the monastery, he saw the violet path and immediately named it the “Purple Carpet Road.” And yesterday, he transformed the simple monastery courtyard into a “Moonlit Birchwood Path.”
It was the perfect name. By day, that place is humble and unremarkable, but at night, when the bright moonlight reflects off the birch trees’ white bark, it’s breathtaking.
Anyone who’s seen it at night would agree with the name Flynn gave it.
After laughing at the realization that it wasn’t just Flynn who had this talent for naming places, I found myself growing fond of Anne as well.
Meeting another friend like you and Flynn was enough to make giving up *Lady Chatterley* worth it.
This book won’t just be special to Noel but to me as well.
Oh, and to one more person.
Lately, Cecilia has been coming and going from the monastery to repair the barriers. She dropped by today, so I showed her the *Anne of Green Gables* book, hoping its purity might have a calming effect on her intense personality.
As soon as she opened the book, she looked deeply moved and said, “What a great book.” And while that may be true, I couldn’t help but wonder how she figured that out right away. When I looked to see what passage she was reading, it was this:
“Ambition has no end. That’s what makes ambition so wonderful. The moment you achieve one goal, another gleams ahead of you.”
…Of all the lines to come across! Anyway, *Anne of Green Gables* has now passed from Noel, to Flynn, to me, and on to Cecilia. Books are indeed mysterious. They give each reader a different answer.
Eighteenth day of the seventh month.
—From the white room, still unnamed by Flynn, your friend, Archibald Albert.
P.S.: Flynn said earlier that he has this inexplicable hunch that Anne’s story isn’t over yet. He’s convinced there must be a sequel. That kid is sharper than he seems, much like you. So, tell me, is Flynn’s hunch correct?
I hope so. Please send me more of this author’s works. If you don’t have them, at least tell me how the story continues. After all, aside from Lucy Maud Montgomery, only you, Cordelia, can make my nights so enjoyable.
* * *
My pure Prince,
What do you think about the danger of mentioning ‘bedroom life,’ ‘pleasure,’ and ‘Cordelia’ in the same sentence?
—From the virtuous lady, Cordelia Grey.
* * *
To the wicked lady Cordelia,
I must tell you, nothing could make my ‘illness’ in the bedroom more ‘beneficial’ than your ‘letters,’ aside from Lucy Maud Montgomery’s ‘books.’
—Your friend, Archibald Albert, who is exhausted from placing all these periods.
* * *
Archibald Albert, who dares to stir my heart with the term ‘illness in bed,’
Fine, I’ll send you the books.
May your “bed life” be filled with joy as I also send you a collection of irreverent poetry.
It’s not quite as scandalous as *Lady Chatterley,* but it’s packed with words that many men would find satisfying.
I’ve circled my favorite poem for you. To summarize, it’s all about tearing into pleasure while glorifying “round hills.”
* * *
My irreverent friend, Coco,
You enjoy talking about indecent things far too much. You say it’s for my sake, but did you really think I wouldn’t notice you just wanted an excuse to use the phrase ‘tear into pleasure’?
Thanks to you, I’ve now had the joy of reading something I haven’t since adolescence, nervously hiding the text, afraid someone might catch me. Nonetheless, I’ll read what you’ve sent, since it’s already here.
Goodnight, Cordelia. Tomorrow, like your friend, I’ll wake you with a letter.
—With love, Archibald Albert.
——
———= Author’s Note ———=
To my dear readers.
If we were granted an eternity of time,
I’d spend a hundred years praising your comments,
Two hundred years thanking you for your bookmarks,
And three hundred years begging for recommendations…
But alas, the chariot of conclusion is pressing down on me, so let’s tear into pleasure together—
…Sorry, that was another failed joke.
I was a day late because I was immersed in *Portrait of a Lady in Black,* the talk of the town.
Thank you all for your bookmarks, recommendations, comments, and reviews—you know how much I appreciate them, right?
I hope you enjoyed this latest chapter, filled with Juliet’s emails.
P.S.: Andrew Marvell’s poem has been posted in the announcements! Use it wisely when you’re… well, no need to explain further, right?
P.S. 2: Give me ten minutes. Another chapter is coming up!
<– –>
(Not-quite-consecutive update 2/2)
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