He did not take it back, nor look ashamed. That’s the part that most affected me.
I stared at him in disbelief. My accusations and defenses wanted to convince him out of this confession, to manipulate him into thinking he did not love me, to tell him that I didn’t believe him.
The sickest part of it was that I believed him.
I felt the wind blow against my face, moving tendrils of hair past my shoulders. I saw the moon in the sky like a glistening silver coin, judging us. I smelled the dead flowers and the moss that started to vine up the cottage boards.
I did anything but think about what this meant.
There was a large gap of time that passed after he said it in which I did not say anything; I merely turned around and made my way back inside t
