And here this man stood. Asking nothing of her but a second chance. And she was terrified. She didn’t know what to do or what to say.
He was perfect. As if she’d ordered him from a catalogue. Tall, athletic, dark (melatonin wise, which she so “affectionately referred to as ‘extra crispy’”). And he wanted her. He wanted her crazy ass for some reason. God knows why. Something about her five years ago had absolutely captivated him.
She only hoped and prayed that maybe the woman she’d become would further captivate HIM (her true love), but that was a long shot. For she was no longer the woman that he remembered. Back then, she’d been such a naive girl. She’d believed in love and traditional family.
Now, at 27, she no longer believed in either. How could she? She’d wasted 3 years of her life on the man that she loved, and for what? To be told that he still wasn’t ready? How can you love someone for 3 years and still not be ready for them?
She’d been ready. She wanted to be there for him. To hoist him up onto a pedestal to show him what he was and that he was capable of so much more than he believed. But, he didn’t believe in himself, and so, she had to move on.
Years later she married a Duke. The man who had been perfect for her. She lived a pleasant and satisfied life. But deep in the back of her mind, in a fortress of thoughts that she kept only for herself.
What was HE thinking of?
Did he think of her? Did he miss her?
And if not… why?
For HE had been her world, and she had simply been his sustenance.
He had been her life,
while she had simply been his life raft