His Unfinished Love Story
She was thriving, her spirits high and her creativity boundless.
I kept in touch with her, stealing innocent kisses whenever I could. I never told her I loved her, never named our relationship, but my eyes told her everything. She belonged to me.
One evening, we sat together in her room, the atmosphere light and filled with unspoken emotions. I gently brushed a strand of hair from her face, and she smiled at me, her eyes sparkling.
“I love you, Michael,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.
I responded by kissing her passionately, my hands cupping her face as I poured all my feelings into that one kiss.