45
Peter
I watch my beautiful fiancée sleep, alternating between joy and dark satisfaction. Her fine-featured face is particularly sweet and delicate in her repose, with one slender hand tucked in a half-open fist under her cheek and plush lips slightly parted.
I should probably turn off the bedside light and go to sleep as well, but that would mean missing this. Some irrational part of me is afraid that if I close my eyes, it’ll all turn out to be a dream, a fantasy like the ones that sustained me all these months.
My Sara.
Finally, I have her.
She’s mine, and soon, the whole world will know it.
She was completely worn out by the time I finally brought her to bed, so tired she fell asleep right away. I held her for about an hour, ignoring the renewed stirrings of my body, and then
