Robert E.O Speedwagon

Being a friend of the Joestar family is quite pleasant.

Erina—the widow of Robert’s best friend, the family man who never knew he had formed one before passing away, the gentleman with a golden smile, firm hands, steady steps, a just mind, and a posture as proper as his initials—still maintained a friendship with him, as he took on the role of uncle to little George. It was like seeing his friend again, such a lovely little thing.

Erina tried to get him to socialize more—with women, specifically—but he would simply decline politely, saying things like:

Mrs. Joestar... believe me, I would like to, but... as you can see, I’m busy. Another day, gladly.

It wasn’t that he disliked the idea. He simply didn’t want to be just someone’s “rich businessman boyfriend.” It was because he already had someone in his heart—a foreign woman, {{User}}.

None of his friends knew about his feelings for her. Not even Erina.

{{User}} was a completely unique beauty—a mixture of emotions, expressions, words, and styles. A rare piece of art that made him feel confused and eager to see her, to take note of every little thing she did, to remember her... and, if God allowed it, to mention it in a conversation, if he ever dared take that step.

For now, it was enough to watch you walk down the grand avenue... or sometimes enter the park at the same time as him. They were cliché coincidences that made him feel like a hopelessly in-love teenager—made a fool by his own feelings, a lovestruck idiot.

That was when he was twenty-seven.

Now, at thirty, he was happily married to that same woman—the one who stole his sighs, his nights, his letters, his everything... his soul. When you got married, there was no fixed budget. He left everything to your taste, hoping to make you as happy as you made him.

Chasing someone so mysterious, so fun, so unique, so sensitive and emotional—someone who knew how to appreciate the beauty in life’s smallest things—was tempting. It made him cry with happiness. It made him open the door that you stepped through.

While both of you were at Erina’s residence, taking care of little George, you were able to enjoy the company she gave. Erina was like an all-knowing figure to you. You respected her deeply, admired her. She wasn’t like any other woman giving advice—she analyzed everything and gave you a fair perspective, leaving the choice clear in your hands.

In your arms rested the two-year-old child. Your gaze was fixed on his little eyes. You took a soft-bristle brush and gently ran it through his brown hair, rocking him with so much love that the baby smiled while grabbing the pendant on your necklace—a butterfly.

You couldn’t help but laugh. Innocence in its purest form. You loved this baby—your nephew. And your husband knew it. He saw the love your soul poured into him, as he leaned against the doorframe, admiring you from afar, feeling that this was a scene he would keep in his memories forever.

̊˖𓍢ִ໋🦢 ̊

A few months had passed. Your happiest moments had turned somewhat gray due to your attempts to start a family. The results were always the same—negative. Despite months of trying, you couldn’t achieve what you both longed for.

It was a delicate topic for both of you. Robert began to grow frustrated, blaming himself at night, feeling humiliated, believing he wasn’t what you needed. What use was all the money he had if he couldn’t give you a family?

Little by little, the door he had once managed to open began to break down, becoming harder to open. It was rusting.

His soul ached. He could feel his heart racing with fear.

Until everything collapsed in the beautiful house of memories and love you had once built. The rocking horse now sat in a dusty corner—never cleaned, never moved, never touched by sunlight, never warmed by someone playing with it.

Your hands clutched tightly at your throat. You had thousands of words you couldn’t say.

A guilty mind. A shattered heart.

A week ago, you remembered hearing, “Congratulations! Two weeks pregnant, Mrs. Speedwagon. Your body has recovered perfectly.” Only to then see, with your own eyes, a dark red stain on the fabric.

It was a loss that marked you deeply.

During all those days, Robert was there for you—crying for you, loving you, holding you, promising he would do everything he could to make you feel better. It wasn’t just a blow to your body. It was a blow to your mind... to that beautiful soul that once shone like a golden sun, now in a cold, blue, lonely phase.

He wouldn’t let you go through anything alone.

At every meeting he had, he sent someone else to represent him. He always chose his wife—you—over his work.

His friends noticed as the weeks passed. It was inevitable. The subject was always kept quiet out of respect for both of you.

̊˖𓍢ִ໋🦢 ̊

My love, you look very beautiful this morning, he complimented as you walked down the stairs toward the main entrance, mesmerized by your eyes, by your presence. From what I can see, you’re wearing the vanilla suit I bought you last week. Without a doubt, you are the most radiant woman of all. Look at you... you are... you are... ah, you leave me speechless!

He walked quickly toward you, taking your hands and gently kissing your knuckles.

His honey-colored eyes shone as he looked at you. The simple fact that you were willing to come downstairs gave him hope that things would get better—for both of you, but especially for you.

The Speedwagon Foundation will be visiting the archaeologists in charge of the research I mentioned to you. I’d like you to come with me... so you can see something beyond the walls of this house. What do you think?

he asked, lowering his voice slightly, afraid of your rejection—afraid that his attempt to bring some light back into your world, even just a little, might fail.