Her

Part 7

Watching her dance around the room, emanating joy, unable to tear her gaze away from her ring on her left hand, was too far beyond excruciating. I couldn't bear her happiness, knowing who made her that happy, knowing it wasn't me, and never could be. It left me feeling worthless, dirty and sick inside. Loving her as I did, seeing her happy with someone else was agony, but she was even more enchanting, more intoxicating in this state of being. I'd known she'd had a boyfriend, but seeing her this way was nothing like I'd thought it would be. I fidgeted, unable to keep still, unable to look, or to look away. Unease slid beneath my skin, constricting my heart, burning behind my eyes. I tensed every muscle I could, feeling the way my body hurt, focusing on that instead, trying to remain. I needed to hate him, the man who was making her happy. I couldn't hate her, of course. I loved her too much. I even loved her being happy. But him... I hated him even more for being the one she'd promised herself to. I'd never been more envious of anyone in my life. Day after day I watched her, trying to find something wrong, any insinuation of unhappiness. I couldn't find anything. The only discomfort she showed was being tired from “late nights.” Also, I noticed that it looked liked it hurt slightly to walk, and after several moments of concern and alarm, I realized why she was sore, and just it broke my heart.