One Percent of Love
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He stepped closer, his knee pressing against the edge of the bed, and lowered himself onto one knee.
He lifted his face, tears smeared across it. "I love you. I've held those words in for five years."
"If what I gave you before was one percent, now I want to give you all of it."
He knelt at my bedside, knee to the floor, exactly the way I'd knelt in front of him five years ago.
I laughed.
Fate has a sense of humor.
Five years ago I knelt and begged him to marry me, and he refused.