Stories I Will Never Write Pt. 1
“Happy endings are a thing of myth,” she hiccuped, her voice thick with emotion and no more than a whisper. “All the great love stories, a thing of fiction. Mr. Darcy is a figment of female imagination… no one will ever stand in the rain, confessing their unabashed and unexplainable love for me, despite the world surrounding us. No one will kiss my nose, a special name just for them to use blessing their lips in a reverent whisper, as if I was an angel on earth”.
He stroked her knotted hair, gazing down at the object of his affection as she cried into his chest. Her tears wet his shirt, it clinging to his skin and yet… he didn’t mind. If he could, he would envelope her in his arms forever, keeping her safe from the harshities of the world.
“Will you permit me to illustrate just how wrong you are,” he queried, her hair tickling at his lips as her teary, doe eyes looked up.
It felt as if they had, for the first time, truly seen each other.
