Couldn’t Learn to Love You —Girls, be honest, which one of you is Lily?— The woman gazed at us with a mischievous smile. —I’m Lily. Why?— I replied, perplexed. —Here’s a letter, Lily. From William,— the stranger pulled a crumpled envelope out of her dressing gown pocket and handed it to me. —From William? Where is he?— I was surprised. —He’s been transferred to an adult care home. He waited for you like a child waiting for a miracle. His eyes sought you every day. He gave me this letter to proofread. He didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of you. Anyway, lunchtime’s soon. I’m a carer here,— she looked at me reproachfully, sighed, and hurried away. Once, my friend Sophie and I wandered into the grounds of a place we’d never visited before. We were sixteen, enjoying the summer holidays, craving adventure. Sophie and I sat on a comfy bench, chatting and laughing. We didn’t notice two boys approach. —Hello, girls! Feeling bored? Can we join you?— One boy offered his hand,— I’m William. —I’m Lily, and this is my friend Sophie. And your quiet friend—what’s his name? —Leon,— the second boy whispered. They seemed old-fashioned and far too proper for us. William remarked sternly, —Girls, why do you wear such short skirts? Sophie’s top is a bit daring. —Well, boys, don’t look if it offends you. Your eyes might wander in the wrong direction,— Sophie and I giggled. —It’s hard to avoid. We are men, after all. Maybe you smoke too?— William continued, earnest as ever. —Of course we do—but just for show,— we joked. That’s when we noticed something was wrong with their legs. William struggled to walk, Leon had a pronounced limp. —Are you here for treatment?— I guessed. —Yes. I was in a motorcycle accident. Leon got hurt jumping into water from a cliff,— William recited hurriedly. —We’ll be discharged soon. We believed their stories, never realising William and Leon grew up with lifelong disabilities. They were residents of the care home. Sophie and I were a breath of fresh air for them. Life in the home came with made-up tales: accidents, falls, fights—slightly more palatable than childhood illness. But William and Leon proved wiser and more educated than their years. Sophie and I started visiting weekly. We wanted to cheer them up—and to be honest, we learned a lot. These little meetings became routine. William brought me freshly picked flowers from the nearest border, Leon shyly handed Sophie origami he’d made. We’d all sit together on the bench; William at my side, Leon turning his back to us, focusing solely on Sophie. My friend blushed, but it was clear she liked Leon’s gentle attention. Our talks were playful and carefree. Summer slipped by, gentle and warm. Autumn came, rainy and grey. School resumed; exams, leavers’ parties. William and Leon faded from our minds. After finals, on a whim, Sophie and I returned to the care home to visit. We sat on the usual bench, half-expecting to see William with his flowers, Leon with origami. We waited two hours—but they didn’t come. Suddenly, a woman emerged from the home and handed me William’s letter. I tore open the envelope: “My dearest Lily! You are my fragrant flower! My unreachable star! Perhaps you didn’t realise: I’ve loved you from the start. Seeing you was my lifeline. For half a year I’ve waited in vain, hoping you’d return. You forgot me. How it hurts! Paths divide, yet I thank you for teaching me true love. I remember your velvet voice, your inviting smile, your gentle hands. My heart aches for you, Lily! To see you once more, just once—to breathe, if only for a moment… Leon and I turned eighteen. We’ll be moved soon, to another home. We won’t meet again, most likely. My soul is in pieces. Maybe I’ll recover from loving you. Farewell, my darling!” Signed “Forever Yours, William.” Inside the envelope lay a pressed flower. I was gripped by guilt—a pang that nothing could change. The old saying ran through my head: “We are responsible for those we tame.” I never guessed how passionately William felt. But I could never love him back, not like that. I was curious, friendly, adored his clever conversation—but nothing deeper. Yes, I’d teased and flirted a little, fanning his hopeful flame without realising it might turn into a fire. Years have passed since those innocent days. William’s letter has yellowed, the flower crumbled to dust. Yet I remember the laughter, careless jokes, endless summer afternoons. This story continued: my friend Sophie was moved by Leon’s fate—his own parents abandoned him for being “different.” Leon was born with one leg much shorter than the other. Sophie trained as a special needs teacher and now works at the childhood disability home. Leon is her beloved husband. They have two grown-up sons. William, Leon tells me, lived alone most of his life. At forty, his mother visited, saw her forgotten son, wept, fell back in love, and brought William back to her village. What happened next, nobody knows…

COULDNT LOVE

Ladies, come on, own upwhos Lily? The young woman scans my friend and me with a sly sparkle in her eye.

Im Lily. Why do you ask? I reply, puzzled.

Heres a letter for you, Lily. From William. She pulls a crumpled envelope from the pocket of her cardigan and hands it to me.

From William? Where is he? My surprise is genuine.

Hes been moved to the adult care home. He waited for you, Lily, like you were heaven-sent. Hardly took his eyes off the window. He even gave me the letter to check for mistakesdidnt want to embarrass himself in front of you. I must dash; lunch starts soon. I work here as one of the carers. She gives me an almost reproving look, sighs, and hurries away.

It all started one summer during the holidays. I was sixteen, my friend Sarah was sixteen too. The freedom of the break filled us with a spirit for adventure. Wandering about, we found ourselves in the grounds of an unfamiliar institute. We sat down on a comfy bench, chatting and laughing, barely noticing as two lads approached.

Hi girls! Bored? Fancy a chat? The boy extends his hand, Im William.

I answer, Lily. And this is my friend Sarah. What shall we call your quiet mate?

Leonard, the second boy mumbles softly.

The boys seemed old-fashioned, almost too proper. William offered a stern comment, Why do you wear such short skirts, girls? And Sarah, your neckline is rather revealing.

Hmm… lads, dont look where you shouldnt. Or your eyes might just wander in opposite directions, Sarah and I giggled.

Hard not to look. Were only men, after all. Do you smoke as well?

Of coursethough not too seriously, we tease.

Only then do Sarah and I realise the boys have trouble walkingWilliam moves stiffly while Leonard limps quite noticeably. Are you here receiving treatment? I guess.

Yes. I had a motorcycle accident. Leonard took a tumble off a cliff into the river. William recites his tale swiftly. Well be leaving soon, mind.

We believed their stories without question, not knowing then that both William and Leonard grew up disabled, destined for a long stay at the home. We were a breath of freedom for those lads.

Their world was a closed-off home, out of sight from outsiders. Every resident clung to their own story, spinning yarns of accidents, falls, or fights. William and Leonard were clever, well-read, and wise beyond their years.

Sarah and I started visiting each week. In part, we felt sorry for the boys and wanted to cheer them up, but alsoit must be saidthey had much to teach us.

Our brief meet-ups became routine. William brought me flowers picked from the garden, while Leonard shyly handed Sarah small origami figures hed folded himself. Soon, all four of us would squeeze onto one bench: William always settled beside me, Leonard would turn his back on us and focus his attention solely on Sarah. Shed blush, a little embarrassed, but it was clear she enjoyed Leonards quiet company. Our talks were about everything and nothing at all.

Summer passed in a haze of warmth and laughter. Autumn brought rain and the end of the holidays, and then Sarah and I plunged into our final year at school. Life swept us onwe barely thought about William and Leonard.

The exams ended, the last bell rang, and prom night came and went. At last, summer returned, bringing hope with it. Sarah and I found ourselves back at the homes gates, determined to see our old friends. We sat at our familiar bench waiting for William and LeonardWilliam with his fresh flowers, Leonard with his intricate origami. We waited, but for two hours, no one came.

Suddenly, a woman darted out the front door and handed me Williams letter. I opened the envelope at once:

My beloved Lily! You are my fragrant flower, my unreachable star! Perhaps you didnt realise how quickly I fell for you. Our meetings were breath and life to me. For half a year, I have gazed fruitlessly from the window, waiting for you. Youve forgotten me. How sad! Our paths are not the same. But thank you for showing me what real love is. I remember your velvety voice, enchanting smile, gentle touch. Life feels empty without you, Lily! If only I could see you once again! I want to breathe, but cant…

Leonard and I have turned eighteen. This spring, we move to another home. Its unlikely well ever meet again. My heart is in pieces! Perhaps Ill recover from loving you and be whole. Farewell, my precious!

Signed, Ever yours, William.

In the envelope lay a dried flower.

Shame prickles through me, heavy and unchangeable. My heart aches with the weight of regret. The words, we are responsible for those we tame, echo in my mind.

I never guessed at Williams storm of feeling. Truthfully, I could not return it; I harboured no lofty emotions for Williamonly friendly interest and a curiosity in such a clever, articulate companion. Yes, I flirted a little, teased him gentlyperhaps adding fuel to his admiration. I never realised my lighthearted fun would kindle such a fire in his heart.

Years have slipped by since then. Williams letter is faded; the flower has crumbled away. Still, I remember our innocent encountersthe carefree laughter at his jokes.

There is more to this tale. My friend Sarah was moved by Leonards tough past. His parents turned away because his leg was so much shorter from birth. Sarah finished teacher training, now works at a home for disabled youth. Leonard is her beloved husband, and they have two grown sons.

William, according to Leonard, spent years alone. When William turned forty, his mother visited the home at last, saw her forsaken son, broke down in tears, rediscovered her forgotten love, and took William back with her to her country cottage. From there, traces of him disappeared…