It was a sunny Sunday afternoon in April.
Cordelia, who had just finished her work, and Archie, who was as free as always, went out for a walk in the park together for the first time in a while. There was an empty bench under the shade of a tree. It was the perfect spot to bask in the spring sun.
Archie sat down, and Cordelia lay down, resting her head on his lap. Archie happened to have a book in his hand, and, just as Princess Edwina had once read to Prince Reiner long ago, he decided to read to Cordelia.
“Love dislikes wandering eyes and makes even the smallest room a universe.”
Archie’s voice was low and sweet. His unique pronunciation, as if he were a Shakespearean actor, made the verses sound even more beautiful.
“That’s John Donne, right? Hmm, you don’t like poetry as much as novels, do you? Why did you bring a poetry collection?”
“As usual, I just grabbed something from the stack of books you piled up by the bedside. They all have sweet words, but honestly, I don’t really get what’s so good about them.”
“You don’t get it? ‘Love dislikes wandering eyes.’ That’s exactly about you, isn’t it? You’re the man who’s jealous even of yourself.”
Archie, taken aback by Cordelia’s pointed remark, tried to change the subject.
“Shall I read you something else?”
Cordelia caught on to his diversion and responded.
“Elizabeth Browning, please. There should be one of her poems toward the back.”
The sound of Archie turning the pages pleasantly echoed in her ears. The recitation began again.
“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach.”
As the spring breeze blew and tousled Cordelia’s hair, Archie’s gentle fingers combed through her wavy locks. His reading continued, but his voice was so tender that it sounded like a lullaby.
The sun was warm, the breeze cool. Archie’s lap was just firm enough, and thanks to the comfortable position he had adjusted for her, sleep began to take over. For the first time in her life, Cordelia fell asleep outdoors.
It wasn’t clear how long she had slept, but Cordelia woke to the touch of Archie’s hand caressing her cheek.
“Wake up, sleeping beauty.”
“Did I… fall asleep here?”
“Of course. Meanwhile, I read through the entire poetry collection.”
“I slept through all of that?”
“Yes, and while you were sleeping, I fell for another woman.”
Cordelia’s eyes widened in surprise, and Archie pointed with his hand to the name of the poet, Elizabeth Browning. She laughed and said,
“There are two volumes of her poetry collection. I’ll find them for you when we get home.”
When she said that, Cordelia had no idea how fervently Archie’s reading would continue. That night, even by the bedside, Archie read Elizabeth Browning’s sonnets. Of course, as always with this sweet prince’s evening readings, it didn’t end with just reading the book.
“Cordelia, want to hear something?”
“Sure, recite it.”
“The first time he kissed me, he kissed my fingers as I wrote.”
Saying this, Archie lifted Cordelia’s hand, which had been busy proofreading, and kissed each finger five times. Cordelia couldn’t hold back the laughter that escaped her.
“Archie, it tickles.”
Despite her protest, Archie continued to recite.
“The second kiss, higher than the first, missed the mark half on my forehead and half in my hair.”
Archie’s lips left her fingers and moved to her round forehead and then to her tousled red hair.
“Are you going to keep doing that?”
Cordelia asked, half shy and half happy, her face showing a strange mixture of emotions. Archie nodded with a playful grin.
“Of course. The most important part is still to come.”
“You must be planning to give the third kiss.”
Recalling the poem she had read long ago, Cordelia guessed. Fingers, forehead, and then, naturally, lips. The woman had sighed, “My love, my dear,” or perhaps they had shared a passionate kiss.
But Archie seemed more interested in carrying out the verse than merely reciting it.
His lips traveled down from her forehead, brushing the tip of her nose. Then, gently, as if following the lovers in the poem, he parted Cordelia’s crimson lips. His soft tongue sweetly teased the inside of her mouth.
That night, it was only natural that the words “Oh, my love” spilled from Cordelia’s lips, just as the woman in the poem had said.
However, even after that sweet night, Archie’s passion for Elizabeth Browning’s poetry collection did not wane.
The next morning, while making pancakes, Archie recited lines from Browning’s poems again, and when Cordelia returned from work that evening, he was reading Elizabeth Browning’s biography.
“Cordelia, did you know? Elizabeth Browning had a husband six years younger than her?”
“That’s famous. They were the love story of the century. Young men are the best, after all.”
“What?”
Cordelia laughed at Archie, who stood up in surprise. Despite always pretending to be confident, his reaction to such an obvious tease was one of his charming traits. As Cordelia gave a small kiss to Archie’s pouting lips, she said,
“I’m kidding.”
“…I was just trying to say that this couple also started their romance through letters, like us. I shouldn’t have brought it up. Yeah, young men are the best, huh?”
“Of course. Younger is best. When they’re young, they’re stronger too.”
Cordelia spoke with a teasing face that anyone could recognize, and Archie laughed along as he lifted her up.
“Like this.”
“Yes, just like this, so you can kiss me.”
“Like this?”
After that, there was no time to answer, because Archie’s lips landed on Cordelia’s, just like the day before.
That night, Cordelia thought to herself. Whether it was their lips, their taste in books, or anything else, there wasn’t a single thing that didn’t match between the two of them.
However, Cordelia’s assumption that this was the end of the sweet drama surrounding the Browning couple turned out to be wrong.
The next day, when Cordelia came home from work, Archie had not only finished reading Elizabeth Browning’s biography but had also bought a book of the letters exchanged between her and her husband, Robert Browning, during their courtship.
“For heaven’s sake. At this point, you like Elizabeth more than me, don’t you?”
“No way. My dear love, there’s nothing in the world better than you.”
Archie defused the moment with his usual honey-sweet words, but Cordelia couldn’t shake the feeling that she was losing Archie to someone—or something—else.
Just like the line from the poem Archie had read to her in the park, love indeed dislikes wandering eyes. Even though she pushed aside such childish thoughts, watching him read so passionately every day made Cordelia curious about the book as well.
And so, that night when they went to bed, Cordelia also held Elizabeth Browning’s poetry collection in her hands.
“Coco, are you going to read that book too?”
“Yes, since you read it every day, I got curious.”
“Then instead of the poetry collection, read the letter collection first. The letters are passionate and fun.”
“What’s fun about letters?”
Cordelia laughed after blurting that out. It was funny to say such a thing when she had once stayed up all night enjoying letters herself.
“Letters are the most fun. So be careful, Coco. Don’t stay up all night reading again.”
“You’re right, Archie. It’s pretty thick.”
The book was indeed thick, not something you’d expect for just a collection of letters.
“Both poets sure had a lot to say.”
“Like us?”
When Cordelia said that, Archie burst into hearty laughter.
“Yes, Coco. Maybe like us.”
That was the right answer. The letters between the couple were long—too long. But they were filled with such beautiful expressions of love that one couldn’t stop reading them.
In the end, Cordelia didn’t sleep and finished reading the entire book. By the time she was done, it was dawn. Even under the faintly lit reading lamp, Archie was fast asleep.
“They said even a single pea under the bed would keep him up all night, but that was a lie. He’s nothing but a gentle prince without a sensitive bone in his body.”
Saying this, Cordelia turned off the light and kissed Archie gently on the forehead.
“Mm, Cordelia? Are you finally going to sleep?”
Half-asleep, Archie pulled Cordelia into his arms.
“Yes, sleepy prince. Now I’m going to sleep.”
Cordelia smiled and hugged him back. The lovers fell asleep holding each other. At that time, there wasn’t a single worry in Archie Albert’s life.
The problem arose the next morning. As usual, Archie woke up a little earlier than Cordelia and was making pancakes. Still half-asleep, Cordelia came out in her pajamas and sat at the kitchen table. Then she spoke.
“Hey, Archie. About that business trip you mentioned, the one to see the antiques.”
“Oh, that. I asked Patrick to handle it. Ten days is just too long. I don’t want to be away from you for that long.”
“Well, about that. Maybe… you should just go?”
“What?”
“I think it might be good for you to go… at least once.”
Cordelia trailed off, gazing at Archie’s face. He now understood what this meant. It was her way of signaling that she had something to say and was waiting for him to ask about it.
Archie wasn’t a sensitive man, but he was an exceptionally perceptive one. So he quickly flipped the pancakes, turned off the stove, and stood in front of Cordelia.
“You have something you want to say, don’t you?”
Cordelia nodded as if he had hit the nail on the head. But the next words out of her mouth had nothing to do with his business trip—they were about the Brownings.
“Hey, Archie. Did you know how many letters Robert Browning and Elizabeth Browning exchanged during their courtship?”
“No idea. I do know it was enough to keep you up all night reading.”
“They exchanged a total of 574 letters over their 20-month courtship.”
“Wow.”
When Archie feigned surprise, Cordelia pouted and asked,
“You already knew, didn’t you?”
“Yes. As a punishment for reading the book you’re reading now two days earlier.”
Archie replied with a bright smile.
“Then why did you pretend not to know?”
“I learned that men get nothing good from pretending to know everything.”
“From Cecilia?”
“No, from your mother.”
Now it was Cordelia’s turn to laugh. After a brief laugh and a habitual kiss, she asked him again.
“Archie, how many letters do you think we’ve exchanged?”
She hadn’t expected an answer, but surprisingly, Archie responded right away.
“285 letters in three months.”
“You just made that number up, didn’t you?”
“Of course not, Coco. I’m always serious in front of you.”
Archie replied with a mischievous expression.
“Really?”
“Yes, my dear book-making lady. Don’t forget I’ve had plenty of idle time to count all of them.”
“Alright then. Do you know how many letters Elizabeth and Robert exchanged after they started living together?”
“Hmm, this time I really don’t know.”
Cordelia’s expression hinted that she had something up her sleeve. But for some reason, Archie couldn’t read what complex thoughts were going on in her head today.
Why was she suddenly suggesting he go on the business trip? And why, in the middle of that, bring up the Brownings’ letters? Was there a book about the Browning couple that I need to get while I’m there? Archie wondered, but then Cordelia answered.
“Zero.”
“What?”
“After they started living together, they didn’t exchange a single letter.”
Archie pretended to think about it for a moment, then replied.
“That makes sense. When you’re next to each other, there’s no time to send letters. Just looking at your face right now is enough to keep me preoccupied.”
Following Archie’s sweet words, Cordelia’s response was surprisingly unenthusiastic.
“Exactly. Archie, we don’t exchange letters anymore either.”
“Not counting the notes I leave next to the pancakes?”
Cordelia laughed briefly, thinking of the little notes Archie left beside the pancakes every morning before rushing out. But the smile quickly faded again.
“Yeah, not counting those.”
“So, Coco, what is it exactly that you’re trying to say?”
“Archie, we need some time apart.”
The moment the words left her mouth, Archie’s face turned pale, and Cordelia quickly added,
“…I mean, time apart to write letters to each other.”
Archie sighed in relief, then returned to his playful tone and said,
“Cordelia, if you hadn’t added that last part, I might have dropped to my knees and begged you not to leave me.”
“I should’ve left it out. I’d love to see that.”
“My wicked lady, what exactly are you plotting?”
Archie, now more at ease, asked with a smile, and Cordelia replied,
“That business trip. You said you weren’t going because you didn’t want to be apart from me. Just go. And write me letters.”
“Cordelia, I can write you a letter right now if you want.”
“Not like that. I miss the time when we exchanged letters, longing for each other.”
Archie raised his handsome eyebrows and asked,
“Coco, I really don’t want to say this.”
“What is it?”
“Do you… not like me anymore?”
Cordelia burst into laughter. Archie asked again.
“Even if you don’t dislike me, am I a bit annoying? Maybe you’d like me to disappear to Winzerton for a month every year…?”
“No. I love you, Archie Albert. But what would you do if I said I didn’t?”
“Well, as I said earlier, I’d kiss the ground at your feet and beg. Cordelia, I know the one who loves more is always at a disadvantage, but will you keep tormenting me like this? Come on, tell me. Do you prefer the time when we exchanged letters?”
Cordelia quickly shook her head at that question.
“No, Archie. It’s not that at all.”
“You’re not saying you’d rather I went back to Winzerton and just sent letters?”
“Of course not. There wouldn’t be a kiss every night then, would there? Ah, forget what I said about sending letters. Do whatever you want with the business trip.”
“But why did you bring it up, Coco?”
Archie’s blue eyes were clear, even smiling, but somehow they seemed a bit hurt, so Cordelia hastily poured out her thoughts in a flustered tone, almost as if making excuses.
“I don’t know, just… I spent all day yesterday reading someone else’s letters, and it made me think of that time.”
“That time?”
“That summer night, when I was reading your letters, missing you so much I didn’t know what to do with myself. I was really excited.”
“Excitement, huh.”
Archie muttered.
“Don’t ask me if I’m not excited now. The excitement you feel through letters is different from the excitement you feel when we’re face-to-face, right?”
Since Cordelia preemptively said this, Archie couldn’t grumble any further, so he just laughed.
“Yes, I understand.”
“And forget the talk about letters and the business trip, okay? It was just a passing thought. Don’t get mad, alright?”
“Mad? I’m not mad.”
“Of course, Archie Albert William. You’re my gentle prince who doesn’t know how to get angry. So don’t be hurt, okay?”
“Alright. As a penalty for making my heart uneasy, I’ll take your hand.”
Saying this, Archie, like a prince straight out of a fairy tale, knelt on one knee and kissed the back of Cordelia’s hand. The kitchen, filled with the smell of bread, suddenly felt like the grand hall of the Arly Palace, and Cordelia smiled brightly.
“I really misspoke. My prince, being with you always makes my heart flutter.”
And that was the end of their conversation.
Cordelia hurried to work, having survived yet another eventful morning. Even though it was Monday, the start of the week was, as always, hectic.
She was stressed out from the morning, chasing after an illustrator who missed a deadline and wasn’t answering calls, and skipping lunch to beg an author who demanded the cover be revised three times after it had already been finalized. A work call right before she was about to leave kept her from even exchanging emails with Juliet, her one source of comfort during her tough workdays.
It was only as she was about to clock out, having forgotten all about that morning’s conversation, that a large flower basket arrived for her.
Instead of the usual 100 red roses, it was a delicate mix of pale pink, soft blue, green leaves, and wildflowers. It was obvious that Archie Albert had put it together himself.
He had timed the delivery perfectly for the end of the workday, sparing her the awkward stares from coworkers during office hours. This level of thoughtfulness was something only Archie could manage.
Tucked into the side of the basket was a yellow letter. The envelope was even sealed with wax, bearing the imprint of Archie Albert’s ‘A,’ just like when they had first exchanged letters.
“Where does he even find these things?”
Cordelia muttered to herself with a laugh. She made a mental note to ask him about it as soon as she got home, which instantly lifted her mood.
Now, instead of writing a letter, she could just run home and ask whatever she wanted.
That thought warmed her heart.
Carrying the basket, Cordelia headed straight to the small café in front of her office. She even pulled out a small notebook from her bag, fully intending to read the letter and write a reply right away.
But by the time she had finished reading the last line of the letter, she had no time or patience to sit in the café writing a reply.
All she wanted was to get home as quickly as possible and see Archie’s face.
With the letter in her bag in one hand and the large flower basket in the other, Cordelia hurried home, thinking for the first time that maybe she was like her mother, the kind of person who would rush out to embrace her loved one before writing a letter.
***
To my dearest Coco,
My wicked lady, who dropped my heart to the floor with your talk of needing time apart. Here I am, leisurely laughing to myself, thinking of you, likely busy working alongside Juliet at this very moment.
You said you wanted me to leave on a business trip so you could experience the excitement of missing me, but I have no confidence in enduring ten whole days without you. So, let’s leave your ‘just a thought’ as it is and forgive me for staying stuck by your side. For me, an hour or two apart is more than enough time to feel longing for you.
My love, Coco,
Do you know how many sheets of paper I ruined that summer, trying to fit ‘love’ and your name in the same sentence, only to scratch it out?
Can you imagine how the ink would blot the page and soak through to Bedder’s desk when I wrote ‘Coco’ and then stopped, overwhelmed by emotion?
You said you missed that summer when we stayed up all night waiting for each other’s letters, that you longed to feel that excitement again.
But no, I don’t miss it at all. I have no desire to return to those days when I first knew you, loved you, wanted to see you, and spent long nights talking to you. And after all that, staying up all night holding you, feeling excited every time I saw you, unsure of what to do, constantly worrying that I might mess things up.
I was happy just to see your handwriting, and walking beside you made me happy.
And now, even when I write letters to you, I want to write them sitting right next to you. Cordelia, in the time when you were unsure whether you loved me or not, my heart was already burning with passion for you. So, when you ask if I miss those days, my answer will always be this:
No, I don’t. I simply prefer now, when I can look at you whenever I want. Now, when I can look at your face and love you even more, when I can watch your eyes with a calm heart instead of a pounding one, and when I can pour out my passion on your cheeks, lips, forehead, hands, chest, and neck.
Waiting for the time when you come home.
With all my love, Archie Albert William.
P.S. If you want, I’ll write you a letter anytime. But next time, I’ll write it sitting beside you. Writing letters to miss you when you’re not around is simply too hard for me.
⁵ Elizabeth Browning. (2011). *Love Poems of Elizabeth Browning*. Translated by Myungok Yoon. Knowledge Creates Knowledge.
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