She told me, eyes trying not to weep
That she knew he loved her by the way he was always present.
He may not have taken her to Porto to drink wine and watch the sun set but he did take her to have pizza that once. He told her how beautiful she was in her new floral top (that she bought for him. She knew how much he loved florals). He placed his hand on her cheek, she closed her eyes and melted into it.
He did not say that he loved her that night but he took off each piece of her clothing, slowly, and tasted each and every part of her body.
He left her flowers at her door some days later. He wrote her a little poem that let her know how much he appreciated her.
Even now, she said, she keeps it in her bag.
I asked her why she allows him a place in her heart after he did so many heinous things to her.
He loved me. He wanted to live his life with me, she whispered, but he got scared and ran away. He will regret it more than I will.
I looked at her clear, nearly colourless eyes and wondered if she knew that he did already.
