Books Are Heartwarming Things

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry for asking!” I was a babbling idiot and wasn’t really helping my situation at all. “I just didn’t know and-”

Sweet magically put down her mug of coffee and put a hoof up to pause my talking. “It’s okay Twilight,” she said with a heavy sigh. “You didn’t know.”

I continued, “I was talking without thinking of the consequences! I’m sorry.”

Rosy was the only one who was remaining silent. She was looking from me to her mother in an awkward stare, shocked and worried at the same time.

“Did you want to hear what happened?” Sweet said slowly, not knowing if it was a good idea or not.

I contemplated this. “Do you want to tell me?”

“You’re going to learn at some point, so I might as well,” she replied with a shrug.

“A few years after I turned 18, I met and married a wonderful stallion named Crimson Roses. He was a poet, and had proposed to me by reading a poem. He was a great pony and we had been together for about 3 years.

“Around the time that I got pregnant, we found out that Crimson had a heart disease. We didn’t even know what it technically was, and he was getting sicker and sicker as the days flew by. I had even given birth and he still hadn’t gotten better.

“I knew that his time was coming up when he had a heart attack out of nowhere and had to be taken to the hospital. It nearly made me give birth right there, I was so scared and surprised.

“It was a few hours of suffrage and tears before he finally... let go.” Her voice choked with tears and I wanted to make her stop there and get off of the topic altogether, but she cleared her throat and continued. “I was told by the doctor to try to move on so I didn’t put stress on the foal, and I had, but painfully. I had to go to a psychiatrist to help me calm down.

“As Rosy got older, I realized how much she reminded me of Crimson. She looked so much like him, in some ways others didn’t notice.”

Rosy looked up from her meal when she heard her name being said. “What?” she asked through a mouthful of daisies. Sweet just smiled at her.

“So,” she concluded. “Rosy and I have been living together in this rented apartment for the last... 7 years now, is it?”

My heart thudded rapidly in my chest as this processed through my mind. I didn’t have anything to say for 2 whole minutes. When I caught my words, I said what first came to mind. “He must have been a great pony.”

Sweet nodded. “You know, he wrote the poem “Spring’s Song”,” she said, and the title grabbed my attention immediately. It might have been a recent one, but it was very popular and was meaningful to many a pony.

“Are you serious?” I cried, my smile wide.

Sweet chuckled. “I knew that would interest you. I’m very serious, Twilight. I helped him edit it, after all.”

The surprises just kept coming. Either she was trolling with me or she was right. “Are you sure?” I asked.

“How would I not be sure about something my husband wrote?” she queried, then smirked. Rosy was grinning from ear to ear, knowing her father had done something awesome. Why had the little booger hidden such a secret away from me?

“You learn something new everyday then,” I said, then started eating again.

“I suppose you do,” Sweet agreed, then sipped some of her coffee.

It was a few minutes until everypony had finished eating and moved to the living room. Rosy sat on the couch with her mother, while I was on a chair not but a few wingspans away from them. We had rolled into casual conversation.

“How did you get your cutie mark?” I asked Sweet, gesturing to the mirror on her flank.

She gazed at her mark. “Oh, this?” she said. “I had done somepony’s hair really well and made them feel good about themselves in, like, kindergarten. Not a very engaging story.” She smiled nervously at me like she was sorry for not having an exciting backstory like I did.

I chuckled. “I’m sure it was exciting at the time.”

At the mention of time, I looked at the clock and almost gasped. It was almost 12. “I’m sorry, but I need to go,” I said, standing from my chair and staring at them apologetically.

Sweet and Rosy got off of the couch. “Would you like Rosy show you the way home?”

Before I could reply, the filly ran out of the hallway, calling to me, “Come on, Twilight!” I shrugged, bid a farewell to Sweet, saying that I hoped to meet her again next week or so, and followed Rosy out the door.

Our walk to the library was silent, besides Rosy’s random exclaims of happiness or laughter, and it didn’t take long for us to get back.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” I said, opening the door. I was about to go in, but something attached to my hind leg that I couldn’t shake off, and I had to stop walking and look.

Rosy was hugging my leg, a warm smile across her face. “Goodbye, Twilight,” she sighed softly. “I love you.” I didn’t have the chance to respond; she got off and ran in the direction of her house.

Her words struck me hard. Did she really love me? Sure, I shared a common love between friends with her. I loved a lot of ponies in that way. But perhaps she meant like a love she gave to her mother as well...

I shook that thought away, knowing it most likely just Rosy being a filly, and walked inside the library.