He never thought he would end up loving her so much, but she earned his total affection. For a long time now, she has gone through his mind when he is on his way home, longing for that encounter that was never suggested.
As she knows that due to remaining at home her man hates not finding her beautiful, she always surprises him sensually, getting him to look for her in his room, or perhaps in his study, the living room or the attic
The important thing is for him to find her when the time is right for him, as they nearly always coincide when the discernible sound of the key in the lock is the exact moment for them both to meet.
After a frosty greeting that they have not managed to avoid in their lives together, those intense gazes come together in a vast and confused embrace with a scent of eternity, because she intelligently manages to defeat him when she receives him with her natural beauty.
She strives to tend to the person who has been her frequent visitor ever since she managed to captivate him, and her calls stopped falling on deaf ears.
At the end of the day, she thinks that for things to go smoothly in a relationship, the most important thing is chemistry.
But to tell the truth, she doesn’t know how they have put up with each other, because despite being a good man his unbreakable character also rubs her up the wrong way.
It hasn’t been easy, but the thing is they’ve been together so long. Maybe what they call their loving commitment comes from the naturalness with which they took on that unconditional relationship.
That’s why only time knows if they will stand each other eventually.
Sometimes she gets confused and wonders if she will always be with him. She knows she loves him, but she’s the tenant, or maybe it’s him.
That’s the reason she wonders why she doesn’t believe in the certain adventures that her intuition tells her, but as usual she lets herself be swept away by her desire to be the only one, like when she senses him distant on her lap, lost in that right time for them both, where she tries to read his thoughts, and he affectionately covers her, as if protecting him in her very being.
She doesn’t demand anything or expect anything in return; she is content to be now what she might have always been: a refuge, support, and a muse of his desires.
That’s how honest she is. She doesn’t know how she fell in love with an occasionally retiring and sometimes cherished soul, who is especially difficult in everything.
The worst thing is that she knows, and she doesn’t find it strange that when she least expects it the news that he’s leaving her after finding his true love will reach her from his lips, when she thinks that it will be just another adventure.
That’s the familiar topic of argument. Her pride is affected when people talk to her about that relationship in time, and make it clear that her eternal independence is what keeps her isolated from all of them, and later she hears that they see nothing secure in the person who took away her youth.
She insists that it’s her life, and demands that her mistaken but long-beloved decision be respected because that’s her nature, full stop.
Also, even though she doesn’t admit it, she knows that she’s got her beloved’s firm devotion, because in a way last night he told her so sweetly and she believes it, when she complained to him about the rumours of playing with her feelings.
The word games were enough, the evasive answer of the past, the deep look that always emerges, the wrinkled brow with a firm reproach for believing what everybody knows, but what she refuses to accept. And that’s how everything always remains…
In the weaving of affections, there are some who have told her with sadness to leave him and stop suffering, when they see her devoted to something that has an uncertain future. That her devotion can’t go as far as to tarnish her own dignity.
That it’s better to depart and leave it all behind now, instead of encountering the frustration that must one day arrive, when she has more wrinkles than those that the passion of her hope to formalise that relationship have turned into.
In contrast, others berate her with fury, that it’s happening because she didn’t understand when she was told of the faux pas of having something serious with someone committed, even if she always denied it.
These recriminations have come to her mind on a number of occasions these recriminations, those that arrive when she gets undressed in front of the mirror and looks at him lovingly out of the corner of her eye, before they slip between the clean, light sheets that will cover them until a new dawn.
Does he love her? She has found many times that when her man leaves, he has left everything ready for her, and therefore the only thing that’s missing is for him to return to share the food that, without saying, he knows they both like because together they form a single being.
She believes him to be her soul mate. How can she not be convinced by the affectionate way that he speaks to her, that he tells her what it means, and sensually undressing her completely, later with coos he makes her each other’s. That completely confuses her, and makes her think he really loves her.
In the world of love that she knows so well, how doesn’t she know what awaits her, in the meantime it accompanies her when undertaking everything she wants, even if the answer remains in silence as to whether it will be tomorrow when he decides to leave her with even tempered calm.
Even if she sees clearly that if it goes badly for him, as usual he’ll come back to look for her, and justify the reasons of confusion that he had for leaving her. She knows that in that imperfect being she has everything, but really he’s the one that knows that it doesn’t matter what fury and sadness say, because he loves that which has been his own solitude.
