Amor tutti fa uguali.

Love makes all men equal.

It was not until a fortnight has passed that we decided to pay tribute at Aida's burial place.

Fall was undeniably coming to cease, its last vestiges of hazel leaves rustling in the unruly wind. Since closure has never been a comrade to our wounds, neither Emmanuel, nor I visited Aida's grave with constancy – hence the poor state of the tombstone.

The patter of previous rains had eroded most of the granite, alongside carved letters, but the golden loops of Aida's name were as lively as ever. Fortunately, no bird had left its legacy. If it weren't for the cluster of rusty leaves, I would have been inclined to think the opposite – her grave had been taken care of.

By whom, a prying one would ask. Perhaps her mother, who reposed in Heaven as well, or God Himself. Either way, it was irrelevant. She had been guarded on Em's behalf – ours – and that was enough.

"Have you brought the cyclamens?" I faced the standing brother of the angel.

"Of course." He uttered, eyes fixated on the grave, droplets of tears hanging at the tip of his lashes. "You do it." His voice sounded restrained, but I listened to his desire without further inquiry. He needed solitary mourning.

I pressed my knees to the muddy wetness of the ground, steadied my breathing and placed the cyclamens right under her name. A single splotch of colour, and nothing more, was necessary to brighten up the nearness to winter. Aida made that possible.

"Forgive me for my wrong-doings, my precious. It pains me even now, to realize once again that you would never grow into a woman. It is eternal beauty of heart that renders you the well-deserved title of a Queen. You reign over us, tesoro! You do it so devotedly that even temptation detaches its roots. Thank you, Aida, thank you pointing out the real North of my life's compass."

My voice cracked, but Emmanuel came to my aid, swallowing up my whimpers with his embrace.

"Our life's compass, Leonore. Aida's love united us. The journey is yet to end, but we have already made the first steps."

"What about your mom? Was she brought closure?" I asked, resting my head on his shoulder. His musky scent was as calming as his touch.

"Firstly, she died of natural causes, not by your fault. Secondly... I think she has been at peace from the moment I apologized to you. A bond was then created, and I believe momma saw it. Felt it."

As he pronounced the last sentence, he squeezed my hand in reassurance. There was a stream of something unrecognizable, something holy that surged between us.

We rose from the ground, our hands still entwined, his lips pressed to my forehead.

"Love your enemy, He says." I heard Emmanuel whispering against my skin. I shivered.

"Do you love me?" I asked.

"Yes. Do you love yourself?" He asked.

"I do."