Chapter 2: The poor groom's bride is a...

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It was so helpless to break the bond between them, the faith of his being like an cord to her maternal love that have always seen him as a child. It was like the way she pulled away lighted his desire even more, returning faithful back to her as his manly ego was stained with such pure love.

It was something in his eyes that paid the respect she could never have as a woman in a dirty society where men are the rulers and the weak sex is nothing more than an object of desire that need to maintain some kind of a balance

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It was something in his eyes that paid the respect she could never have as a woman in a dirty society where men are the rulers and the weak sex is nothing more than an object of desire that need to maintain some kind of a balance. Little did he knew that the love was filthy with another thoughts, like a forbiden fruit she bited without any doubt.

"Take my hand, Mary", Brendon asked apologeticaly with that doubt and worry in his looks, erased by that moment of relief, something godly when her hand touched his in that grip that he could've swore it should last forever.

She moved like a snowflake in that middle of fall, too early for an old soul but too old for his young one, but how perfectly balanced with his fantasies.

"This is so old fashioned", she reported jokingly, as she was getting into that almost steady movement and that balance he putted her body in.

Somewhere as the country instrumental could've been heard at that dusty pick-up on Brendon's home, a sweet, rather old voice sang with such passion sad, but lovely lyrics that he still adored. His fanatism put her into the dance more ambitiously, seeing the almost hidden joy that have been lighting up his eyes at the closure of their bodies, at her slowly twist and turns and at a spin of her dress that suited her, so perfectly eye-catching.

"He said "I'll love you till I die"" Brendon sang quietly, not hard enough to cover completely George Jones's voice, as he was looking shyly into Mary's eyes, searching for a moment to see if she was delighted or disturbed with his interference.

"She told him "You'll forget in time
As the years went slowly by, she still preyed upon his mind", he got lost into the moment, his grip pulling her closer till he was whispering the words, so quietly it seemed to be a restful dream he wouldn't dare to wake up from.

"You are childish. But I like that", she commented laughing, as the dance slowly in that embrace of their arms, so close she missed it so much.

"What's not to like?", he joked, watching her as she rolled her eyes at that ego he had to show up with. "When you told me to leave I thought you wouldn't want to see me again".

"How could I? I am so sorry, Brendon".

"Shh", he silenced her, his fingers so close to her mouth she stood still by instinct. "Don't apologise. Never do that. I was happy that you were back, at my house...at me", he smiled, looking after her gaze thankful. "It never mattered to me what you did. In your past", he thought for a bit, dark memories of her rage that made him go out of the mansion for what he thought to be last time washing away the joy of this very moment, "...I am sorry about being ruthless and trying to make you explain. You don't have to. Just be here, with me, and promise me you'll be back to me no matter how life separate us."

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