She walks aimlessly around the house, his words echoing in her mind as she feels butterflies in her stomach.
She's not sure what this means for them; is this a step towards him healing?
Is he starting to be okay?
She knows he will never forgive her. She knows that.
But maybe, just maybe, she can see him smile again.
That would be more than enough for her.
When she hears him unlock the door, she stays in the hallway and peeks around the corner, wondering what kind of mood he is in and if it's the same mood he was in this morning.
She sees the same gaze she's grown used to seeing in her love's eyes: an emptiness that will quite possibly never be filled again.
But the tiniest change can be seen.
The tiniest gleam in his eyes.
She knows every inch of his gorgeous face; she spent many nights watching his facial features morph into different emotional expressions.
This one, the one she sees in his eyes, makes her feel the smallest ounce of hope.
There is acceptance in his eyes.
Not forgiveness; no, she's never expected anything of that nature.
But for him to seem to be on the path of acceptance is to be on the path of healing.
And that is all she wants for him.
She wants for him to heal.
