07. Ghost of Girlfriend’s Past.

There she was, sitting on the other side of the vitrine, carelessly leaning into her companion, touching his hand with one of hers, while teasing her long dark locks with the other. She seemed engrossed into the conversation, blushing at times, her lips slowly stretching into a smile, while her mouth opened and closed to words that would remain a secret to the onlookers, and more importantly to Jane.

As Jane stood outside of the small coffee shop, looking in, she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. It had been a long time since they last spoke, but at this moment, everything seemed just like before. Sarah didn’t look much different from six years ago. Her hair was still long, stubbornly curling around her always glowing complexion. Her green eyes were focused, like two moons ready to engulf the darkness. How many times had Jane wiped away their rivers? How many times had she trusted their innocent reflections? As she stood there, slowly letting past memories flood over her, Jane suddenly found herself gasping for more air. Was it just her, or was the air stuffier? Forcing herself to step back from the glass surface, she strode away, putting some distance between her past and what seemed to be her imminent present.

Three blocks later, Jane finally slowed down her pace, matching the ongoing traffic on the sidewalk. She had ran away as if she had seen the devil in person. How was it possible that one person – who had meant so much to her at one point in her life, how could she stir up so many contradicting feelings within her? Jane was puzzled, and even more so, frustrated. Her day had started so well! Now, the sight of an old friend rained on her parade. But why? she asked herself,reaching a familiar place – the local grocery store. As she perused down the produce isle, Jane thought about relationships, and more specifically about bad breakups. They left you empty handed, exhausted and heart broken. There was no immediate cure to pain, nothing that didn’t require time and many hours of counseling. It wasn’t just about past boyfriends, even female friendships hélas! – were not immune to this condition.

Jane was a big proponent of the “everything happens for a reason” ideology. She used it to justify all of her heartbreaks, be they professional or more personal. She thought the Universe was trying to teach her something, that if only she took her time to listen, then maybe she would be rewarded with better opportunities. After all, didn’t they say “when one door closes, another opens”? When she had closed her door (literally) on Sarah six years ago, she was convinced that it was what needed to happen. In her mind, there was nothing left to put back together. No glue in the whole wide world could fix their broken friendship. Jane had had enough of perpetually being trapped inside Sarah’s never-ending drama. She was mentally exhausted of always picking up the pieces, just as she was tired of always being the one to collect all the blame. As painful as it had been to detach herself from the one person she had thought she’d be linked to indefinitely, it was a decision she had had to make. So why was she doubting herself at this moment, when so much time had passed? Seeing Sarah had sown new seeds of doubts.

Of course, Jane knew deep inside, that she had made the right decision for her at that time. As hard as it had been to separate herself from Sarah, she needed to distance herself from the young woman. Sarah always acted with her own interest in mind, not really worrying whether or not she was walking over people. There was always this sense of entitlement about her. That, and also this impulsiveness about everything. One moment they would be sitting quietly in the library, studying for their upcoming exam, and a moment later, they were driving to the next state to crash a party that a friend of Sarah’s was throwing. Sometimes even, Sarah would drag Jane to her blind dates, before ditching her for her beau-du-jour. She never seemed to worry about Jane, never seemed to care whether or not she was putting her through uncomfortable situations. Did she even care? Jane would often ask herself. Sure, Jane too could have protested, thrown her own fits, refuse to tag along, but she hadn’t reached her threshold. She could cope with an occasional incident, she could be the better friend, the plane Jane, the one who made sure they never left their homes without having fully charged phones, or be the one who would ensure they both had a safe way to get back home. There was never a dull moment, it was always a go-go rhythm, and Jane frankly didn’t know how to press on pause. Of course, it wasn’t all bad. Maybe it was the good times that brought her these moments of doubts? Or was it the way she had put stop to their friendship? Jane knew it was mostly the later.

She did miss Sarah at times, especially when a song they both used to like came on the radio, or when someone passed her by, trailing behind the same smell as did her long lost friend. Hélas, too much blood had spilled between them during the last year of their friendship. Too many ugly words were voiced, fingers were pointed, objects were thrown. They had tried their best to patch things up, pretend they were not diverging from one another, refusing to accept that one bad year could undue many good ones. Yet, eventually, there was no more fighting left in Jane. She had given her all to this friendship, and she had to go. So after one last big fight, where Sarah called her names, Jane had had it. She threw Sarah out of her apartment, and before slamming the door on her friend, told her to go fuck herself.

The end of their friendship ironically coincided with the end of their undergraduate degree. Eventually they both moved away, started new lives somewhere, and Jane never thought she’d see Sarah ever again. The world was really a small place to live in, wasn’t it? As she walked back home from the grocery store, Jane stopped. She turned and retraced her steps back to the coffee shop, wondering if she would still find Sarah there. She believed the Universe was testing her resolve to put the past behind, and maybe even give her another chance to do things the right way; to politely part ways? This idea brought her some comfort. But was that even possible, at this stage? She didn’t want Sarah back into her life, of that she was certain, but she also didn’t want to go through life dragging their painful separation, replaying it over and over as a movie of poor taste.

Back in front of the coffee shop vitrine, Jane took a deep breath in. She peaked through the glass, only to find the seat where Sarah had been sitting moments ago vacated. A wave of relief and sadness washed over her. Relief to not have to confront her past, sadness for not getting a chance to do so. Stepping back from the glass surface for the second time that day, Jane turned away, colliding into a pedestrian. When she looked up, ready to serve her apologies, Sarah stood in her way.


Total Word Count: 1,257


06. “I don’t love you anymore.”

I hear you rummaging through the kitchen as you do every morning, always looking for that pot and that cup. Just by the sound of your movements, I know whether or not you are in a good mood. Right now you are absently humming a melody which I am not familiar with. As I lay in our bed, I think of how much I love the sound of your voice, how much I love hearing you laugh. The bedside clock tells me it is eight in the morning. I know that in a few minutes you will come back to our bed, your steaming cup of coffee in one hand and my newspapers in the other. I will pretend to be asleep, and you will slowly lean over me and wake me up with a kiss. You will offer me your coffee, of which I will take a sip and then you will tell me how great today will be. You will take place by my side in our bed, and we will snuggle for another hour. You will tell me that you love me, and I will tell you that I do too. The truth is, I don’t think we ever stop loving the person we once fell in love with. I think we just transform our love into different – other feelings. Right now, at this moment, although I know I will tell you that I love you, I wish I could tell you the truth. This truth: I don’t love you anymore, I want to leave you and move on with my life. Of course, I know I will never tell you this and you will never really know how I feel. It’s not because I am afraid of what might or might not happen, or that I am a coward. It is because I cannot bear in mind to cause you grief. I love the sound of your voice, how happy you look when we are together. I love how everything seems easy and looks beautiful to you. Even I. The man who cannot tell you how much he wants to leave you. The man who lives this life, just so that you can be happy. Because if you are happy, then that makes me less of an asshole, does it?

Sometimes I catch you staring at me, with your cats eyes. They seem to tell me “I know everything”. Do you though, know? Behind all your compliments, your smiles, your projects for us… do you know how I really feel? Who I really am? I don’t know if I want you to. Maybe the real problem isn’t that I don’t want to hurt you. Maybe I am afraid my life will fall apart and lose its meaning the moment I release you from my hold. I know it’s selfish, but I am human. I have to hold on to something, and so I hold on to you, like one holds on to a lifeline. When you take my hand in the middle of a conversation, as to reassure me that everything will be ok, I remind myself of all the reasons that led me to love you that first day of September. We were so young then. You studied creative writing and I was writing my Ph.D. thesis. You couldn’t stop talking about these dreams you had and which had to mean something. Because no one dreams just for the sake of dreaming, do they? You were so convinced that if one only desired happiness, then happy they should be. I think hearing you say that over and over, as if it was some sort of mantra, turned me into a believer. I remember that I couldn’t stop from hearing you talk. And your laugh. It has always been my downfall. Your secret weapon of which you are not even aware of. After all, you are always up there, somewhere, always chasing happiness the way people chase butterflies in the summer. Only now, I tune you out. Most of the time, I have no idea what has been said. Your lips move in front of me, and no sound seems to reach me. I want to shout “I am done! I am leaving you!” but I find myself trapped. When you hold my hand in yours, I try really hard, to get back to you. I try to find all those things that made us “us”. And so I share your laugh, I bring you peonies – because they are your favorites, I pay for those vacations you plan all year round for us. And I keep hoping that one day, I will again feel that spark that turned me into a believer. While I wait for it to happen, I will continue to make you happy, be the man you think I am, the one you vowed to be with until death do us apart.

05. ‘Sister’.

At what point did she change? Truth is, I have no idea. One day, she just seemed different. She looked the same, spoke the same, but something about her had changed. Of course one could easily argue that I had changed, that it was the way I saw her that made me believe that she was not the same person I had encountered and shared most of my life with. And I wouldn’t dispute this belief, because after all, don’t we all change? Maybe, as we interact with others, we slowly change each other, by picking something unconsciously from this one or that one, until one day we are not the person we used to be. Despite the different opinions and theories, the truth was there: we no longer shared the common ideals, the common dreams and view of the world. There was no laughter left, no jokes to be told, no dreams to be exchanged. Only remembrance of the past, of how good things used to be remained behind like ghosts that never wanted to leave.

It is quite tragic, to be honest.

And to think that we once called each other ‘sister’…

I remember when we first met, we didn’t like each other at first. It took our friends to bring us together; before not long, we were always around each other. We were young, we had fun and most of all, we knew we were lucky to have one another. Together with our faithful group of friends we outed, dined, had long conversations, shared our aspirations. I liked her for being stubborn and strong-minded. You couldn’t tell her no, she always has the last word. There was a time when she sat her eyes on the boy I liked, despite being already in a relationship. I knew then that she would have him even though the boy vowed he loved me. Soon enough, they were an item, and I could not get mad at her, after all, she always got whatever her heart desired. To my surprise, their couple lasted for three years. You know at that young age, three years seem an eternity. I imagined them getting married one day, and how I would be the Maid of Honor. She knew how many kids she wanted: three to be exact – two boys and a girl. She was very into american stars at the moment and the names of her future kids had that american connotation. She knew she was going to move to the United States as soon as she would be done with high school. I admired that in her; her certainty about things, about people and even the future, which was still a bit foggy to me. We only had a year left together, a year which I will probably always remember. When I think of our senior year, I slowly realize that things began to change right then. But we were too caught up in our lives to see it coming. We had hopes. We had dreams. We had faith.

Love is blind, I’ve heard people say. I didn’t know love, for me it was a foreign concept. After all, I was young and busy planning my future. There was no room for love. At least not the romantic kind. She did not agree. She wanted it all now or never. And so she made her move, while I busied myself with my future. She gave herself to the boy, and soon everything she knew started to fall apart and the world began to change. For once, I was the one to be certain while she arbored something new within herself. Was it doubt? Regret? Envy? Sadness? I couldn’t tell. All I could see was that something within her was starting to change. The lost love had taken a toll on her, and she had hard time finding her way back to the person she was before. Truth be told, I didn’t want to think of what crossed her mind at that moment. I wanted to preserve her image in my head as the strong girl who was my friend. The one who always dared and laughed when I was uncertain. Although I tried to reassure her that everything would be okay, that she would know a wonderful life just as she had pictured it for herself, somewhere I knew that she did not believe me. She did not believe herself. There is nothing worse than to lose hope at such young age. If I didn’t know it then, I sure do know it now.

At what point did she change? It might have been right then. The moment we parted away. The moment I gave her that last hug before boarding my plane. The moment she saw her life take an unexpected turn and saw all those who were close to her move away, start new lives. Lives that did not take her into account. Feeling left behind, excluded from what used to be her life, might have slowly broke her. It didn’t matter that I tried to call, that I tried to keep up with her as I was trying to go through my life. It didn’t matter that I came back to visit. I had left. And for her, I would never come back and things would certainly never get back to the way they used to be.

You know the sad part? I knew the same truth she did. I knew we would never be the people we were. That we would never laugh at the same jokes, look at life from the same side and dream the same dreams. I knew our roads had taken different turns. I knew that somewhere deep inside she resented me, and that we would never again be the same kind of friends.

And to think that we once called each other ‘sister’…

04. “I took care of it”

“Here, drink this” Robert said, setting on the table a cup with a dark liquid within it.

With trembling hands, Rebecca picked it up, bringing it to her lips. It was warm and she suspected it contained alcohol. A sip confirmed her suspicions: her brother had mixed rum with apple juice, to mask it’s bitterness. Rebecca was not really fond of alcoholic beverages, unless they were mild and made very sweet. Robert knew her better than anyone. Better than her own husband. This realization, made her shiver.

“You’re cold? Want me to fetch you a sweater?” Robert inquired, a worried look on his face.

Rebecca shook her head, holding to the cup as if her life depended on it. The remembrance of her husband brought in a flood of disagreeable memories. A reminder of what had happened; what had lead her to seek refuge at her brother’s place. She took another sip, and another, her hands shaking more and more. Robert extended his forearm and placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it slightly. This contact was supposed to be comforting, but it only sent a discharge throughout her arm, making her pull away brusquely, pain crossing her lips.

“Are you hurt?” Robert inquired

“No, it’s nothing. I just hit my shoulder against the bookshelf and bruised myself” she lied.

Robert didn’t seem to buy it. After all, he knew her better than anyone.

“Show me,” he ordered.

Rebecca knew that her brother was not easy to dismiss, and he would see it one way or another. She let out a sight, resigned and set the cup back on the table, pulling carefully her arm out of the sweater she’s been wearing. A quick look at his face, told her that he was horrified by what he was seeing. Her arm was very badly bruised, but not in an accidental way. Robert took off his eyes from her arm, long enough to ask her the question she knew was coming.

“Did he do that to you?”

She nodded, pushing away the tears that were coming to her eyes at the thought of what had happened.

“That bastard!” Robert shouted “I’m gonna kill him!”

“Don’t” she said, trying to regain control of her shivering body.

“Don’t? Jesus, Becca, look at your arm! And from what I can see, it is not the only thing that you have bruised. How long has he been doing this to you? And why didn’t you tell me? I swear, if I get my hands on him… I will make him regret ever setting his eyes on you!” he was fuming.

Rebecca looked around the small kitchen. She came here to escape everything that had happened. She’d hoped, like a fool, that her brother would have never found what was happening to her, or at least had happened. She’d hoped that she could pretend that she had just had a bad dream. But Robert wasn’t going to let it slide, not if she did not tell him the full story. She had to tell him, before he made a stupid move. Inhaling she finally resolved to speak.

“I took care of it” she finally said in answer to her brother’s questions.

“You took care of it? By running away? Jeez, Becca! You can’t run away from your husband. We have to contact the authorities and have him arrested and as soon as he is behind those bars, we can get you out of this marriage,” he was going on and on.

“I took care of it” she repeated, over and over, like a mantra. She was staring beyond Robert. Robert who now looked more mortified than worried, and who kept calling her name. But he seemed so far away now. So out of reach. Rebecca only saw her husband at this moment. They’d fought that morning. He’d hit her repeatedly as he had done before, and she was trying to protect herself from his assaults. She started counting, waiting for him to stop. When he’d finally left, she found herself unable to get up, tears rolling down as she lay helpless. Later that night as she lay down on their marital bed, she’d pretended being asleep, afraid that he’d do something to her in her sleep. She had hidden a knife underneath her pillow. Just in case, she’d thought. She wouldn’t be the victim anymore. She would fight back. Only a fight never occurred. She had taken care of him in his sleep. Before she knew it she’d slit his throat open, watching him bleed out. And now he stood in front of her, while she repeated over and over her mantra.

03. The Void Space

The room was cold. The walls had been stripped off the frames that had been holding the memories of its previous inhabitants. A thick layer of dust covered the surfaces like a warm blanket meant to comfort. But there was no comfort to be sought within the premises. The sun was slowly setting down, casting its last sunlights on the southern wall which faced the fireplace, which had not been cleaned in ages from the look of it. Then again, the place hadn’t been for a while. Hayley brushed her hand over the dusty surface of the work desk in the corner of the room, while trying to figure out what it is that she was doing here. She’d been on the lookout for a place for her photoshoot, and somehow had ended up on this abandoned side of the tracks. Few were those who adventured themselves on this part of town, and the reasons were many. According to her grandmother, this side of town used to be the home of many colored families, back when segregation was a norm. After it had been lifted, many where those who took the opportunity to leave the tracks and seek a new life far from the constant reminder of their misfortune. Those who wouldn’t move away were soon forced to when the local plant shut down, leaving its employees out of jobs. It was a very dark period for the town. It didn’t take long before this side of town was deserted, young people preferring the hype of the big cities, and old ones trying to move closer to the new jobs to save on commute.  Now the “tracks” as they were called were mostly a ghost town. Hayley didn’t know what she hoped to find here. She mostly felt the sadness of this place. To think that once upon a time there used to be a family sitting around this fireplace, telling bedtime stories and sharing a good laugh around a good meal… She could picture it. Before she knew it, Hayley had her camera out and was snapping some shots. Suddenly the place did not feel cold or empty; she could sense the auras of its owners, see the history unveil itself before her eyes. Soon, each abandoned item had its own tale to share. Soon, she was drawn into the midst of this storyline.Once the sun had completely set, Hayley felt a sudden calm come down on her, a comforting hand that sat on her shoulder, telling her that everything was going to be okay. As she was leaving the premises, she stopped one more time, glancing at the emptiness of the now dark home, a smile slowly drawing on her lips. She had come to the void spaces and was leaving with so much more.

02. A Note From The Past.

Elena Kovinski was daydreaming in the winter veranda, enjoying the quiet atmosphere of the cold day. From time to time kids’ giggles would reach hear ears, reassuring her that everyone was fine. Her husband had gone into town with their youngest son Bryan, and she was left at home with her two eldest – Joshua and Eric. She felt very lucky to have boys that could behave. Most of the time she didn’t have to worry about them doing stupid things like breaking an arm or leg. Of course as young boys they were full of energy and sometimes they even fought, but Elena was never too worried about that; after all she herself had been pretty active when she was their age and she could not remember the number of times she had got into trouble with her brothers. It was all part of the life cycle. Luckily for her, her sons did not give her as much trouble as she used to give to her parents, growing up. This realization made her smile. As she reached for the cup of hot tea, a loud noise of crashing and breaking glass reached her ears. Her heart stopped for a second and as she was jumping on her feet, it began pounding faster and faster, matching her quick steps towards the source of the noise.

“Josh? Eric?” she called out, reaching the entrance of their big colonial house.

The boys stood around the grandfather clock, which had been in her family for generations. Shattered glass laid across the wooden floor, and Eric was sobbing aware of the mess and the trouble that awaited him and his brother. Elena’s heart jumped again at the scene before her and she rushed towards her boys, checking them for any potential injuries.

“Are you alright? Did you get hurt?” was all she could ask over and over. Joshua kept reassuring her that they were fine, that they hadn’t been that close to the clock when it fell down, but she could not stop making sure that they were alright. Eric on the other hand could not stop crying. At six years old, he was still a baby – her baby. She grabbed her sons and covered them with kisses and hugs, relieved that nothing bad had happened to them.

“It’s okay, baby, you’re fine” she kept saying to Eric, whose tears were now turning into soft sobs. Joshua looked as miserable as his brother, but being three years older was way over crying for random things. “Mommy… we are really sorry. We didn’t mean to…we just were playing” he was pleading. She looked up to him and opened her free arm, inviting him for a group hug. He hesitated a minute before rushing into her arms.

“It’s okay. I am glad you were not injured. That’s all. Plus, things fall and brake, that’s life. Now, how about you take Eric back to your playroom while I clean up? We can then have some chocolate cake” she offered, knowing how much hey boys loved her homemade chocolate cake. Joshua looked into her eyes to make sure that it was okay to leave and that she wasn’t mad at them before taking his little brother by his hand and guiding him back upstairs.

Once they were gone, Elena took in a deep breath. She had had the scare of her life. Now that everyone was good, she looked at the mess around her. Her great grandfather’s clock was laying flat on the floor, and she would need to wait on her husband to get back to be able to lift it back to its position. The only thing she could do right now was to sweep the broken glass. As she was sweeping off the floor, she noticed that the clock had cracked on a side and she sighed. This clock was their family’s inheritance and she hoped the crack could be fixed before her mother or any other member of her family noticed it. Her cousin had been pretty upset when everyone agreed to give the clock to Elena and she did not want to give any one of them a reason to not trust her with family belongings in the future. As she got closer to the crack, she noticed that it was actually a small trap that had unfastened, revealing a small hidden compartment. Intrigued, Elena reached into the small space with her fingers and retrieved a piece of paper. Excitement grew inside of her as she looked unfolded the paper. To her surprise the letter was addressed to her.

“My dear Elena,

I hope this letter finds you in time. I have been diagnosed with terminal cancer and as painful it is for me to know that I will not watch you grow up and become the wonderful woman that I am sure you will turn up to be some day, I am glad I was able to see you come into this world. I know your great grandmother Theresa would have loved to have this opportunity. We haven’t had a girl in our family for four generations now and you can hardly imagine how much joy you brought into our hearts. I hope that life blesses you, my dear granddaughter and that you grow up to be everything you want. Your mom is a very strong minded person, and I am sure she will raise you right. I hope God will bless you with a loving family and a good life, my dear. Please remember us, because you will always be in our hearts. Your great grandmother left you a necklace to remember us by, and if you look closer into the grandfather clock that should have passed on to you, you will find it stored within its walls.

With love,

Your Great Grandfather, Luke.”

Elena stared at the piece of paper, reading it over and over. She didn’t notice her wet eyes. She never expected to find such a beautiful testimony of love, and it was dedicated to her. She slowly lowered herself to the level of the lying clock and with her right hand brushed the wooden surface of the clock. “I love you too, papi” she murmured. She considered moving the clock on her own, but knew it would be pointless as it would probably result in her pulling a muscle. She held the piece of paper close to her heart, and with a smile went back to the veranda.

01.Three Years Of Love

She was crying in the bedroom. He was smoking by the kitchen window, trying to ignore her loud sobs. They’ve been there before, and as usual they would get through this. He just knew the game too well. She would get tired of crying, and would eventually fall asleep in their queen size bed, and he would come join her later. They would wake up in each other’s arms, apologizing and promising to never fight again like they had. But they both knew it would be a lie; they would fight again – eventually. He heard a stuffed noise coming from the bedroom, and reported his attention to the skyline that was rising proudly outside of the window. This apartment had been their home for the past two years and would be for some more to come. An opening door drew him from his daydreaming state, and killing off the cigarette, he stepped into the hallway, right in time to see her put on her winter boots, a small suitcase behind her. “So that’s it?” he let out, incredulous. She didn’t stop dressing up and when she finally looked at him, he knew that this time their story had reached its end. “That’s it. I am leaving. We can’t go on like this – I can’t. I’m sorry.” And she was gone. He watched the door close behind her, without making a move to stop her. Surely she would come back – he hoped.

He was sitting on the corner of the bed, a glass of whiskey in hand. He looked around, meeting only the shape of a woman sound asleep in the cotton bedsheets. Soon it would be the morning, and the beginning of a new year. He slowly got up and began to dress. It was time he went home. He always hoped she would be there, waiting for him. Time had gone by since the day she closed the door of their apartment, but he hadn’t stopped waiting. She would come back – he would reassure himself. The apartment had not changed at all, despite it being more messy. Her stuffs still occupied their original place, as if she had never left. He never invited other women over. He hardly ever stayed in, either. Instead, he went out every night, meeting a new woman at a local bar or club and ending in her bed – most of the times. What he didn’t want to admit to himself, was that he was heartbroken. He would never love anyone as much as he’d loved her. All he could hope was that she would realize that she still loved him too, and would return to him.

He saw her again, six months later. He was walking out of a coffee shop, and she was there, across the street hailing for a cab. Their gaze met for a few seconds, and they smiled at each other. She blew him a kiss before disappearing in the city’s traffic. He stood there for a few minutes, wondering if he’d dreamed it all. She kept smiling as she was entering her office. She never expected to see him again, and yet, it felt good. He hadn’t changed at all, but she had. Time did heal – after all.

She was wrapping a scarf around her neck, keeping an eye on the bedside clock. If she didn’t hurry up, she would miss her train. She picked up a pen and wrote down I’m Sorry on a small piece of paper, that she slipped into an envelope and set it on the bed, as well as her spare key. It’d been two years since she last broke up with someone. She had been happy this past year; she’d seen the world, fallen in love with a new guy and laughed as hard as if she’d never been heartbroken. But it hadn’t been enough. Enough to keep her in this life – at least. She stepped on the platform and waited for the train to park. She had made her decision the night before, while they were out dining. He had been talking about the future, about buying a house, and settling in for good, and all she could picture was her old apartment, that was too big for one person, and yet was too small for two. She had to go back. It was her home. She sat there in the train, smiling to herself. She was scared but she had faith. Everything would be right in the end.

He opened his eyes to the smell of her perfume. The year was touching to its end, and he couldn’t find a reason to be unhappy. He brought her hand to his lips and softly kissed it. It’d been months since she came back, but he still had hard time believing it. She looked up at him, and smiled. They would fight – eventually, but they would always find the road back into their love. After all, love was a bumpy road, and as long as they were together, they would lift each other up. Of that she was now certain.