She had felt so lonely before she met her. The pricks of loneliness had sharpened over time into stabs, puncturing her heart as they pushed through her. She had been punished, she thought, for some crime in a previous life, or in her future. Providence did not punish the living lightly. She did not know what she had done (would do), but it must be horrendous to deserve the torture of isolation.
She had fallen in love, first. The thrill of the chase, the stolen glances, the late-night whispers…it had enthralled her. She was enraptured, soaking up the radiance of her woman. Her woman. She had won her, had impressed her over all of her suitors and her daddy’s friends and over anyone else who might have won her hand in marriage. She had shown just how little all of their worldly possessions mattered next to her devotion.
Triumph only sustained her for so long. The suitors did not stop, not a one. They kept coming, and her woman was not nearly as devoted. She never strayed far- so how could she call it a betrayal? There were moments- glances, whispers, but nothing more than that. She was no traitor. Nor was she faithful. That was the problem, that faith was something that hid on the inside of a woman’s heart, and not something she could trust.
Her wife was hers, won fair and square, but she was a free spirit. How could she bind something that beautiful without destroying its beauty? She couldn’t. Instead, she told her that she was free. She allowed her free reign, to associate with whichever suitor or seductress she sought to spend time with. She was not so jealous as to take away her lady’s freedom without a reason. Instead, she watched her, through the window, waiting for one.
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