Though it had been three years since he last saw her, she seemed to have frozen in time. In a way, she looked so much as she had back then. But he was amazed at how many new things he noticed, things about her that he should have noticed then and were now too hard to ignore. Like the way she rolled her eyes toward the ceiling and smiled when he complimented her, or how she would bite her lower lip when recalling some detail of her story.
But there was something different about her as well. Though her eyes were still kind and her smile as warm as ever, in her eyes there was something missing. She did not look at him the same way, the way she used to look at him back then.
As he pretended to be engaged in her story about the last three years, an odd sensation crept over him. As if something thick and cold was trickling inside his stomach; it was a dreadful type of feeling, one that pointedly made him wonder what he had expected when they made plans to see each other after so many years.
I expected her to feel the same way, a truthful voice said inside his head, and though the logical part of him knew he was being irrational, he could barely piece his feelings together.
Did he feel the same way? He had not really thought about it. In fact, he rarely thought of her anymore—a sign that, to him, signified his feelings had melted into time and space. After all, he had been with numerous women after her.
But as she sat before him, her brown skin appearing so supple that he was tempted to touch it, he slowly realized that everything he had felt, and perhaps more, was rushing back to him all at once.
Yet this realization only caused the dreaded feeling inside of him to intensify. Because although she had once been his, and his alone, and if all was the same he would have leaned in the middle of her story to kiss her full lips, the woman that now sat before him was farther away from him than anything else in the world.
But how could it be that he, who knew her body, who knew her secrets and details that no other knew, was now as much of a stranger to her as a man she had never met.
"So now," she said, her eyes full of excitement, "tell me all of your wonderful news."
He replied with something witty, something he knew would make her smile. And when she did, he could not help himself and he leaned in and kissed her lightly on the lips. It took only a second—he just wanted to feel her lips—but when he pulled back he knew at once, by the look in her eyes, it had been a mistake.
When she spoke, he thought he would die of embarrassment and disappointment.
"Cedric," she said slowly, her eyes bearing into his, "I’m engaged."
He glanced down at her hand. Sure enough, there was a ring on her finger. He had not noticed it, yet now it seemed so bright it was blinding. What could he say now? Three seconds before he could have feigned happiness for her. But now, she knew how he felt; she saw the words he did not speak lurking just behind his eyes.
And what was worse? She did not feel the same.
But there was something different about her as well. Though her eyes were still kind and her smile as warm as ever, in her eyes there was something missing. She did not look at him the same way, the way she used to look at him back then.
As he pretended to be engaged in her story about the last three years, an odd sensation crept over him. As if something thick and cold was trickling inside his stomach; it was a dreadful type of feeling, one that pointedly made him wonder what he had expected when they made plans to see each other after so many years.
I expected her to feel the same way, a truthful voice said inside his head, and though the logical part of him knew he was being irrational, he could barely piece his feelings together.
Did he feel the same way? He had not really thought about it. In fact, he rarely thought of her anymore—a sign that, to him, signified his feelings had melted into time and space. After all, he had been with numerous women after her.
But as she sat before him, her brown skin appearing so supple that he was tempted to touch it, he slowly realized that everything he had felt, and perhaps more, was rushing back to him all at once.
Yet this realization only caused the dreaded feeling inside of him to intensify. Because although she had once been his, and his alone, and if all was the same he would have leaned in the middle of her story to kiss her full lips, the woman that now sat before him was farther away from him than anything else in the world.
But how could it be that he, who knew her body, who knew her secrets and details that no other knew, was now as much of a stranger to her as a man she had never met.
"So now," she said, her eyes full of excitement, "tell me all of your wonderful news."
He replied with something witty, something he knew would make her smile. And when she did, he could not help himself and he leaned in and kissed her lightly on the lips. It took only a second—he just wanted to feel her lips—but when he pulled back he knew at once, by the look in her eyes, it had been a mistake.
When she spoke, he thought he would die of embarrassment and disappointment.
"Cedric," she said slowly, her eyes bearing into his, "I’m engaged."
He glanced down at her hand. Sure enough, there was a ring on her finger. He had not noticed it, yet now it seemed so bright it was blinding. What could he say now? Three seconds before he could have feigned happiness for her. But now, she knew how he felt; she saw the words he did not speak lurking just behind his eyes.
And what was worse? She did not feel the same.
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