Part 2: His

I spent so much time loving her that I forgot how to. I watched her eyes roll every time I made a joke, and I found that odd - she always told me my sense of humor drew her to me as if we were two magnets clinging to one another. When I cooked, she ate as little as possible, tossing away everything left on her plate before wandering off to the bedroom. Nothing I did mattered. I knew how much she loved when I kissed her thighs before going down on her, but she reacts emptily to both. I try to imagine the way she would sigh when my lips pressed against her thighs, the way she would moan when my head finally fell between her legs, but I fail in doing this because she will not let me remember. Her blank expressions when we make love tell me more than the emptiness hanging between the most special three words. I thought moving here would take away the strain on our relationship. Hell, for a short time, it did. But now she works late, comes home when she wants, and I never say anything but I've seen the condoms in her purse. There seems to be a different kind every time I look. I know something is wrong when I kiss her and she doesn't kiss back. I knew before that something was really wrong when she started to break from her comfort zone in sex, so much so that it made me uncomfortable. I loved to look at her lingerie as much as any guy would, but the way she was so uncomfortable always made me want to just hold her. So I'd try, and she'd insist that I didn't think she was beautiful anymore, but she would never let me tell her how wrong she was. I always thought she was beautiful. I forgot how to look at other women and feel the same way about them. She was always sunlight, and I was always hidden behind shadows. She thought I didn't think she was beautiful, and I thought she loved someone else. What else could explain her crossing her boundaries, becoming a person full of faux seduction when all I wanted was the girl I loved three years ago?