Revelation

Diana

"Hi," a voice said behind me.

I turned around. It was her. I sighed inwardly.

"Hi," I answered in reply. I tried to smile but could only manage to half-heartedly bare my teeth. Not exactly the warmest of welcomes. She didn't seem to notice, though.

"Mind if I join you?" she asked.

"No, not at all," I replied, but the hesitation in my voice was apparent even to myself.

She slid into the seat opposite mine anyway, oblivious (or perhaps not) to the unspoken cues that I was giving.

I sipped my coffee silently, not looking at her. Maybe it was chatter that she wanted, but it was silence that she was going to get. I wasn't going to pretend to be friendly, not today, not with her.

"Can I ask you a direct question?"

I looked up. She was staring at me intently, as if trying to figure something out.

I shrugged. "Sure."

"You love him, don't you?"

I was taken aback. Now THAT was a question I hadn't been expecting.

I feigned ignorance. "What are you talking about? Love who?"

"Come on, don't act dumb. You know who. James." Her eyes held an expression that I could not name. It wasn't anger, but it certainly wasn't nonchalance either.

I opened my mouth in protest but she must have anticipated my reaction and cut me off before I could say a word.

"Every time he comes into the room, your eyes light up. And every time I try to approach you, I sense a hidden envy. And you've been morose ever since you humiliated him. A very unusual reaction, I must say. Every time someone mentions his name or the incident you look guilty and regretful."

"But that doesn't mean...."

She held up her hand to cut me off again. "Whatever you're going to say, look into my eyes before you say it."

I took a deep breath, then raised my eyes to meet hers. There was a long pause. Then I said simply, "Yes, I do."

She leaned back and gave a wry smile. "Thanks for being honest."

I looked down at my coffee, not knowing what else to say.

"He loves you too, you know."

I snapped my head back up, stunned.

"How do you...?"

"His eyes light up when YOU enter the room, not me. He talks about you all the time, even when he's talking with me. Back when the two of you were still talking to each other, he spent more time with YOU than he did with ME. And ever since you two fought, he's been feeling depressed and guilty too, just like you. And even though we're sort of together, I can sense the distance between the two of us that I don't sense when I see the two of you together. Above all, the simple fact is that he, like you, is a bad liar."

"But he told me..."

"I know what he told you. He lied."

"Then why...?"

"His father. My father is his father's primary financial supporter. You know James. You know the loyalty he has to his family. I think he even tried to convince himself that he loved me. But I knew better."

I stared at her for a while in disbelief. But she was being completely serious, and I knew she was telling me the truth, or at least what she believed was the truth.

"Why now?" I asked simply.

"Because he's leaving tomorrow."

"WHAT???"

"He's leaving tomorrow," she repeated. "You know where. He'll be gone for almost a year."

The news completely overwhelmed me. I struggled to comprehend, to process what was happening in my mind. I opened my mouth once or twice but no words came out.

"And just in case you're wondering, I'm not mad. I love him, but I know that I'm not right for him. You are." With that said, she stood up abruptly, turned, and walked away, but I could have sworn that I saw a silent tear roll down her cheek.

And all I felt inside was turmoil.

Confrontation

*This is Angela's meeting with Marshall at the end of the story.



Angela

I could feel my face starting to heat up, I could hear my heartbeat picking up pace. My palms were cold and I think I may have just lost my ability to form words. The topic of our conversation wasn't exactly my forte.

"Let's settle this once and for all," he declared. I could sense the frustration boiling up in his voice, he was getting impatient.

I just shook my head gently, I didn't know what else to say or do. I was already reaching for my bag, ready to make a run for it.

Just as I turned my back on him, he stood up from where he was sitting. With one swift move, he managed to wrap his fingers around my hand, preventing me from making my getaway.

"Please," was all he murmured, his voice barely audible.

I stared at my feet, trying my best not to make any eye contact with him.

"What are you so afraid of?" he asked. I just shrugged. I had the answer to his question in my head, and I wasn't planning on sharing it with the world. Not yet, anyway.

It was as if time had frozen the two of us in our positions. We stood a foot away from each other, my hand was still in his. It felt nice like that and I secretly wished he would never let go. I quickly banished the thought just as it surfaced in my stream of consciousness. What on earth are you thinking? I almost yelled out loud. I gave myself a subconscious whack in the head.

I could tell he wasn't about to give up, his eyes were still searching my face for answers.

"Okay, I see you're not going to budge," he loosened his fingers and released my hand from his grip. "You were always the stubborn one," he continued. I looked up from my feet and gave his face a quick glance, his face was unreadable but his eyes looked defeated.

Oh, that done it. That very look did the trick. Is this reverse psychology or what?

"You," Someone who had a voice very similar to mine mumbled. That couldn't be me, right? Oh crap, I think it is me.

"What?" he sounded surprised to hear me speak too.

"Of you. You asked me what I was afraid of, and it's you," Nothing stopped the voice now. It was going on a roll and I couldn't contain it!

The defeated look in his eyes was now replaced with one of hurt.

"But, why?"

I didn't want to go on, but I couldn't possibly leave it at that. I sighed. He needed to know the whole truth.

"Well, because.. because I just do," I said. Oops, that didn't come out quite right. I'm horrendously bad at this, bad at discussing feelings of this sort. Honestly, I like being on the sidelines more. I was usually the one people came to when they needed a listening ear, I'd take being a listener any day of the week. I sighed inwardly. I really wasn't feeling this role reversal thing. I stared at him, praying that he got the unspoken message anyway.

Maybe he knew I didn't mean it like that, maybe he could sense the uncertainty in my quivering voice when I said those words to him. He seemed to have understood well enough because the mood somehow lightened up a bit. Before long, his lips were pulled into a smile, and I found myself grinning back easily.

Again, there was silence between us. Only this time, it wasn't of the awkward sort. It just seemed natural, until he decided to break it.

"I like you," he blurted out. Although there was no indication that he let the information slip unintentionally. Maybe he had rehearsed it all?

Oh no... did he just say what I think he just said?

"Excuse me?" I managed to mutter. I'm surprised I haven't started fleeing yet.

"I like you, I like you a lot, I have ever since..." his voice trailed, "I'm-not-sure-when.. but that's not the point," he ran his fingers through his hair, frustration creeping up his face. He didn't look quite like his usual self right then. He actually seemed.. nervous.

Watching him fret was pretty amusing, I was kind of enjoying it. It wasn't everyday I see a usually self-assured guy have a little anxiety attack right in front of me.

"The point is...," He looked up, that's when his eyes and mine met. He saw that I was smiling at him and decided to stray from the topic, "And what are you grinning at?"

I shook my head and smiled some more.

"I'm standing here... pouring my heart out to you and all you do is smile that goofy grin of yours?" he said, I knew he was teasing me.

"Well, what else do you propose me do? Break down and start sobbing uncontrallably?" I asked in return, my tone was that of a joking one. I even faked an unconvincing laugh to accompany my lame attempt at the joke. Although I'm beginning to sense that this really didn't seem the best of times to crack a funny line.

He didn't laugh along with me, much to my despair. He just looked at me with those impenetrable eyes of his. I groaned. I hated it when I couldn't read him.

"Hey, that was pretty fun-," I started defensively, but never got to finish the sentence. Before I even saw it coming, I found myself wrapped tightly in his arms. That little gesture took me by surprise. The smell of his freshly laundered shirt, coupled with his familiar clean boyish scent lingered on in my mind. I felt strangely at ease, just standing there with my head on his shoulders. I won't lie, there were butterflies swarming about my insides and my heartbeat was missing a skip or two.

Oddly enough, I didn't seem to mind them one bit.

"Of course I don't want you to cry, you goof," he laughed. I felt his fingers caressing my hair gently. "Hugging me back would be preferable," Upon hearing what he said, I smiled despite myself.

"You know? For someone who claims that she's scared of yours truly here, you don't look like you're in a state of horror right now," he teased some more.

"Oh?" I pushed away and looked up at him.

"Who said I wasn't scared, still?" I challenged.

He pinched my nose lightly and said, "Well, I can safely assume that you don't exactly hold onto people you deem frightful quite as tightly, do you?"

Incredulous! How could.. how could he read me like an open book? I immediately pulled away from him and crossed my arms defensively.

"Come on, I was kidding, you know I was,"

"Now please enlighten me, why do I scare you so much?" he asked with a quizzical expression plastered on his face.

"You really don't know, do you?" I asked in disbelief. Was he really that dumb? I heard a dark laughter sound deep inside me. Or was he just faking it? A smirk playing on my lips. I think the latter seemed more believable.

"Would I ask you if I knew the answer?" he tilted his head and looked me straight in the eyes, sounding a little cocky again.

I stared right back, something I wouldn't normally do under the circumstances. Where did this rush of courage come from? Maybe it was the excess adrenaline? Weird how the human body works huh?

"Okay, you sure you want to know? I mean, we can talk about something else you know?" I asked, rhetorically. I was stalling for time, trying my best to somehow change the topic. Yeah right, I wish it was that easy to get out of this conversation.

My plan clearly wasn't working. He seemed to know me well enough.

He strategically placed his hands on the wall, cornering me into the confinements of his arms. We were standing close enough, but barely touching at all.

Tense, much?

"Just tell me.. I promise I won't cry," he winked at me coyly.

"Alright," I whispered. I guess I might as well come clean this time... Or else I'll never get to leave in one piece!

"I'm scared of you," I started, my eyes darting from his eyes to something irrelevant in the distance, "Because you make me feel like I'm not me anymore when I'm with you," I muttered. "It's like I can't control what and how I feel.. like my emotions aren't even mine,"

"What scares the living daylights out of me is that I can't seem to not think about you, how every little thing I come across seems to remind me of you," I took a deep breath and went on, "And the fact that my heart and my brain can no longer cooperate with me anymore,"

"But I guess.. what frightens me most is losing you," I kicked at an invisible rock by my feet. "Though I never exactly had you in the first place, per se," I uttered under my breath.

"I..." I shuffled my feet and glanced at him, "What I'm trying to say is that, I think I.. kind of.. maybe.. like you, as more than just a friend,"

There! I said it! I said it all! Happy now?

I felt my ears turn red as I finished up my super long and winding award winning speech. Letting it all out was a relief, I was breathing easy once more. With nothing else left to do, I began admiring my shoes again.

He tilted my chin, and I found myself staring into his eyes for the umpteenth time today. Crap, I think I'm blushing.. he never fails to do that to me.

"What a coincidence," he beamed.

"I feel the exact same way too," he whispered into my ear and I caught a glimpse of his smiling eyes.

-Rachel-

Vengeance?

Diana

I spotted him the moment he entered the hall. He was alone, as usual, with a serious, troubled look on his face. Momentarily I wondered what he was troubled about, but I immediately pushed that thought from my mind. I didn't care. No, I didn't WANT to care.

He looked around as though searching for someone. Angela, probably. As his eyes roved in my direction I looked away, afraid that my eyes would betray me. But he didn't see me, and he walked on towards his locker.

I was breathless with anticipation. I couldn't wait to see him hurt. To see him hurt and humiliated, the way he had hurt me. Now he would pay. Now he would regret calling me those names. My heart was on fire with anger. Strangely, though, there was a sick feeling in my gut that I could not understand. Almost a revulsion at what was going to happen. But I suppressed it as best as I could. I wanted to enjoy this. The way HE had enjoyed what he did.

He opened his locker and looked in. Then he froze, his mouth open in surprise and revulsion. I saw the nameless, inexplicable fear take him over and he screamed. Then he slammed the locker door and turned around.

The entire hallway was looking at him. He stood rooted to the ground, with a sickly pale expression on his face. I could see the fear etched into his eyes. Then his face became flaming red and he ran out of the hall.

The hallway broke out in derisive laughter. I heard the word "wimp" used liberally and scornfully. Nobody cared, he was almost an outcast anyway. Less then human in their eyes. He would never live this down.

My plan had succeeded exactly as I had anticipated it to. I had hurt him and humiliated him. More so, I had done it in public, precisely where I knew it would hurt him the most. I had achieved my goal.

I searched my emotions for the satisfaction and exultation I thought I would feel at the success of my plans. But to my surprise those emotions eluded me. All I felt was the sick feeling that had solidified in my gut and which I could no longer ignore. Even the anger that I had felt towards him was gone.

Realization dawned on me regarding what I had just done. I had acted spitefully, out of anger. Precisely what I had promised myself never again to do. The image of his eyes, wild in fear, seared itself into my mind. I had hurt him deeply. Him. And he doubtless knew that the perpetrator was me, for only I had known about the inexplicable fear he has towards those...things.

I realized then that I still loved him deeply. They say that you hurt the most those whom you love the most, and that was precisely what I had done. I had not made things better, only worse. Now he would never come close to me again.

I crept into the girl's bathroom and into a cubicle, locking the door behind me. Then I buried my head in my arms and wept as guilt and grief overcame me.

" I'm sorry, James," I whispered softly, as tears ran freely down my cheeks.

Guilty as charged

James

I slam the door behind me and wipe the fake smirk from my face. Already I miss her. I miss the way she lights up my life with her antics. I cannot help myself. I'll never forgive myself for hurting her, to keep her away from me. And father. Why did it have to be her? Anyone else, just not her. My heart sours as I recall how devastated she looked. Guilty as charged, I suppose. A part of me yearns to believe that she never meant to harm father's political campaign. My heart tells me so, but father claims otherwise. And father's always right.

I feel dead inside. I need her. I want her. I love her. Yes, no doubt about it. I am in love with a girl I cannot have, and I am with another girl - a girl I think I love. I have no desire to hurt either, and that, should be love enough. But if I truly search my own desires, I know who I'd rather be with. The one unattainable. Unattainable for ties of loyalty.

But no. I must protect father, whatever the cost. Whatever. The. Cost.

***

I trudged down the hallway, unconsciously hoping to catch just a glimpse of her. Every nerve in me willed me to apologize, to see that forgiving smile etched across her face again. My heart was so heavy that I felt my legs turn to lead. The damage I'd done was irreparable. She would never forgive me again. Maybe it was best that things were left as they were. Maybe that throbbing ache I felt would gradually numb. After all, time heals all things.

I opened my locker unseeingly, mechanically. Everything was routine. A routine meaningless, now that she was out of my life.

A movement caught my eye. I blinked and focused.

And screamed. And slammed the locker door shut. I found my hands trembling, sweat forming profusely on my forehead. There was a sudden silence all around, and I could feel a hundred pairs of eyes burning into my back.

After what seemed like an eternity, I ran. The feeling of humiliation seared itself into my heart. A bright red, burning scar.

***

I slumped against the wall of the toilet cubicle, trying to steady my ragged breaths.

'Truth or dare,' She smirked.

'Truth,' I had nothing to hide.

'No fun. I know almost everything about you. Wait a minute.'

She had that mischievous glint in her eyes again. The sunlight touched her face, illuminating her features. She looked radiant, the inner light she possessed shining through. I felt a sudden urge to toy with her hair, but held back. I was getting more and more of these silly, queer urges nowadays.

'Tell me, are you afraid of anything? Any animal? Any object?'

I was caught unawares.

' Aha! You ARE afraid of something. The truth, mister, and nothing but the truth. Someone's not so manly anymore, huh?'

I saw that little boy again in my mind's eye. That tear-streaked, grubby face, distraught at Shadow's death.

'Mummy, where's Shadow? Is he coming back? Ever?'

'Shh, honey, he's in heaven now. God's taking care of him. God loves him as much as you do. Don't you worry, precious.'

But sissy said otherwise. Sissy said Shadow was still in the backyard, underneath the big, old tree. That little boy believed her. He wanted Shadow back. Shadow was his only friend. He missed Shadow.

So he dug Shadow up.

THEY'RE EATING HIM! Traumatized and disorientated, the little boy fled to his bedroom, buried his face in his pillow and blubbered incoherently. The nightmares would haunt him from that day onwards until he grew much older. But the fear never left. And nobody ever found out. Not even sissy. Shadow's carcass was found and reburied, but nothing more was said of that day.

Now, sworn to secrecy, she knew.

And only she could have engineered this plan. A dark, gloomy cloud hung over my head. So this was how far it had gone. I didn't feel angry at her. I deserved it. I wanted to punish myself.

I deserved it.

Betrayal

James

"What have I gone and done this time?" I thought to myself as I stood in front the gates of hell. I combed through my memory, searching for an inkling as to what I might have done that would grant me this lovely meeting out of the blue. 'Come see me. I will expect you in my study before dinner. Be on time.' The 'invitation note' that I received wasn't very inviting. Nor did it give away any clues as to what I was in for.

I took a deep breath and decided to get it over with. I couldn't avoid him even if I decided to flee the country. I knocked reluctantly on the door, I wasn't exactly in the best of moods to see the person on the other side.

"Come in," I heard his voice echo through the thick slab of wood that separated us, for now.

I turned the doorknob and walked in gingerly.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" I asked the man dressed in an expensive tailored suit. He was standing in front of a roaring fireplace, with a glass of whiskey already in hand. He set the glass down and came to greet me.

"Ah, James," the man exclaimed as he extended his right hand to me, I shook it. No hugs, no pats on the back, no "Welcome back! How are you doing, son?", just a formal handshake. I wonder how many fathers greet their sons with such formality.

"I need to discuss something rather important with you, James," he sat himself down in an armchair and motioned for me to do the same.

The man hadn't changed one bit, everything was still all business to him. Never sparing a minute for anything else.

"I hear that you've been spending a lot of time with a new girl?" he probed and continued, "Diana? Or was it Donna?"

"Diana," I corrected him automatically. "What about her?" my tone was that of a defensive one.

I was getting anxious, I didn't like the direction this conversation was going. Why were we even talking about her? I may not have the best intuition in town, but my gut could forefeel bad news.

"Well, son.." he began, "I'd rather you not spend so much time with her."

Hold up.. what did he just say? Did he just forbid me from being friends with Diana?

"May I ask why?" I wanted to hear his logic behind his ludicrous "request". In his book, "request" meant the same thing as "order".

"I have reason to believe she has an ulterior motive," he replied, taking a sip from his glass.

"Oh?" Now I was really paying attention.

"She's using you, she's toying with your friendship, hoping you'll open up to her and leak all the information she needs," my father said, with disgust in his voice.

'What in the world is he rambling on about this time?' I thought to myself angrily. 'He's making her sound like some sort of a heartless spy'.

"What do you mean?" I was trying very hard to not let my wrath seep out.

"Her father works for my competitor. Our rival! Has she let you in on that?" he challenged. I looked on as he rubbed his temples slowly, as though he was having a massive headache.

I felt a hard blow to my chest. She never said anything about her father's profession.. but then again, I never bothered to ask either..

"Well, no. We haven't really talked all that much about our families yet," I decided to defend her. "She doesn't even know you're my father, I haven't said a word."

"I'd say she conveniently left all those details out for you..." he started, "And James, I'm pretty sure she isn't as naive and innocent as you'd like to think," he added.

"Do you have evidence, sir? For your accusations, that is," He couldn't possibly flat out make fluff up, right?

"Don't worry. I've gone to the trouble of doing a background check on her," my father said, with a smug grin playing on his mouth.

"And according to my sources, she is already seeing somebody else. Of course, she has yet to tell you this too, I assume."

I was rendered speechless at this point. I focused my eyes on the deer head that hung to the brick-wall above the fireplace, the sight of that.. thing.. disgusted me. I really didn't feel like dwelling on my thoughts anymore...

"Diana would never do such a thing without telling me.." I convinced myself, silently.

I was almost certain of it at first but now.. doubts began to cloud my mind. "..would she?"

"I just don't want to see you get hurt, son," my dad said, his voice laced with seemingly sincere concern.

I nodded.

"She's no good for you. Stick with Angela, I know you love her," he said to me as he took another sip from his glass.

I nodded some more. Digesting all this made me feel sick to my stomach. I felt disgusted at how easily my father could read my feelings. I didn't think anyone would notice that I was falling for my best friend.

"Besides, I'm your father. If you can't trust me, who can you trust? And would I ever lie to you?"

More nodding. "I guess you have a point," I sighed.

"That's my boy," he stood up and walked to where I was sitting, and gave me a rather awkward pat on the shoulder.

"Well, now that's settled, I really have to run," he said as he adjusted his tie. "Important dinner party," he took a final swig and polished off the remaining liquor in his glass.

I watched as he swaggered out of the room, leaving me behind to connect all the dots.

She's using me. She lied to me.

I couldn't believe it. How was I supposed to face her now?

-Rachel-

Troubled

Diana

'Where's James?'

'I don't know. Am I supposed to know?' I shot Marshall a defensive glare, startled at how bitter I sounded. No, I wasn't bitter. I had no reason to be. Right?

'Chill. I was just asking.' So he'd noticed how curt my reply was. He eased into a chair opposite mine and looked at me quizzically.

'Is there something wrong?'

'No. I'm perfectly fine. What's up?'

'You don't seem fine. For one thing, you haven't smiled once since I appeared, and you're obviously distracted by something. James?'

He received another murderously dark look from me. Marshall could be impossibly irritating at times, especially when it involved James. And whenever he teased, I flared up. For some reason. Maybe it was because I sensed that Marshall resented James for getting the most of my attention, and I didn't like my priorities being questioned.

'He's not my boyfriend. Why do you expect me to know where he is, as if he's supposed to be a permanent fixture by my side?'

'Someone's getting sensitive.'

I sighed inaudibly. He was right. Not that I was going to admit it, but I was conscious of how irrationally I was reacting. I sat there silently, not bothering to reply. As much as I tried to convince myself that Marshall started it, I knew I was in a foul mood and he was the innocent party.

'You know, I really don't think this is the best time to bring this up, but since I'm here already, I might as well find out. Who's that new girl James was hanging out with the other day in town? She's not from our academy, is she?'

'You mean Angela? No. James met her...somewhere else.'

As those words left my mouth, I found myself wondering once again where, how and when they even met. Weirdly enough, James hadn't said a single word about it. This was so unlike him - but then again, he'd been acting up lately. A few weeks ago, he would have shared everything with me - his dreams, his thoughts, his opinions. A few weeks ago, he would have still been my best friend. The news that he was dating Angela came rather suddenly through the grapevine, and I felt like I had been left out in the dark intentionally. Like he didn't want to tell me anything anymore. Like I wasn't close enough to be trusted. No. James wasn't like that. I didn't want to jump to such disturbing conclusions. I immediately pushed those unpleasant thoughts out of my mind.

'She's hot.'

I grinned half-heartedly in response. Guys. Every other girl was hot anyway. My thoughts wandered further. Why was he acting so evasive? As if he was afraid of being seen with me. I recalled how he'd excused himself hastily in the past few weeks every time I approached him to talk. And that look he gave me. That almost disdainful expression in his eyes. Those big, brown eyes of his that never lied. It couldn't be, could it? I'm just imagining things. I'm just being paranoid.

And Angela. Somehow, the thought of them together made me sick. I couldn't imagine James, my James ever belonging to anyone else, but now it was so. Angela was sweet, pretty and everything a girl could ever hope to be. Then why did I feel so bad about it? What reason did I have for feeling this way? She was good for him. So why did I feel my stomach sinking?

Why was Marshall- I suddenly realized that he was still there and that I'd drifted. He'd been scrutinizing my expression intently for the past few minutes. I cleared my throat to break the uncomfortable silence. Marshall was still looking at me queerly. Apologetically, in fact. But why apologetically? It wasn't as if he'd said anything wrong. If I deserved an apology or at least, an explanation from anyone, it would be from James. He was the one acting like a...like a...jerk. Jerk. I swallowed hard as that word echoed in my mind. I never thought I'd see the day when "James" and "jerk" would be found in the same sentence. A sentence formed by, of all people, me. His best friend. Once, anyway.

'Anyway, I always thought you two were in love. Really. The way he looks at you-'

I liked neither the direction the conversation was going in, nor the inexplicably unpleasant emotions surfacing as a result.

'Hey, I have to go complete an assignment. Catch you later, okay?'

I flashed him my brightest smile and left the library, feeling his eyes on me with every step I took.

***

Stunned speechless by those stinging words, I could only stare at him. Who was he? Why didn't I know him anymore? Was this the very same James who'd been my best friend all these years? I struggled to regain my composure. The hurt I felt must have registered on my face, because the next thing I knew, he smirked.

He smirked.

As if I wasn't devastated enough already. I didn't trust myself to speak, and he didn't allow me to, anyway. Turning on his heels, he slammed the door after himself, the blast reverberating around the room, ringing in my ears, suffocating my heart.

Anger. That was the next thing I remembered. Anger and hurt, fueling my energy. I was too angry to cry, too humiliated to retreat. How dare he. How dare he! I didn't do anything to deserve this! Fine. Two could play this little game.

And I knew exactly how to hurt him, to wipe that cocky smirk off his face.

-May-

Secret no more

Angela

It was his eyes that gave him away. Those deep, brown, expressive eyes of his. If you stares into those eyes long enough, you can eventually make out every emotion he feels. They're like a mirror into his soul.

And that is precisely why he will never be a good liar. He can try to convince everyone, even himself, otherwise, but his true feelings shine forth if one looks closely enough. Perhaps that's the quality of genuineness that puts everyone around him at ease. One always knows when he is sincere.

I couldn't see that at first. Blinded by my ecstatic joy in his seeming interest in me, I failed to look closely enough. It had been a dream for so long, an unconscious desire for so many months that I jumped in without looking when the dream seemingly came true. I didn't WANT to look any closer. I didn't WANT to question him. I just wanted HIM.

My mistake. He doesn't really love me, I know that now. He tries to convince himself that he does, but I can tell. He loves someone else. He loves HER. His eyes sparkle only when she's around. A dead giveaway.

I suppose I should be angry about it. Technically he's cheating on me emotionally, the worst possible kind of dishonesty. But I can't feel angry. I understand his motives too well. He's bound by a loyalty so strong that only love can break. And I just cannot fault him for having the very quality that I so love about him. He cannot help what he feels.

All I feel is sadness. Because I know that I must end this, for both our sakes. He will never be completely happy in this relationship, and I will never be completely happy knowing that he is unhappy. So I must end this, somehow.

And hope that somewhere, sometime, somehow, I'll be able to love again.