This is the new revised chapter of my story. Most of its been completely changed, and some of its the same, like the end.

Disclaimer: I do not own Full Metal Alchemist or any of its characters.

Enjoy.

I wonder every day the same thing.

I wonder if he loves me.

For a strong woman such as me, going through a rough childhood with a crazed alchemist as a father and bearing the Ishbalan War and carrying the lives of those that I took unwillingly, would not be expected to be upset so easily and might even be compared to a faint-hearted schoolgirl.

But in reality, I was not as strong as everyone put me out to be. Hiding behind my tough façade was a tough act to accomplish as woman 1st Lieutenant. For so long, I've wanted to let go. For so long, I've wanted to open my door of secrets. But I was a coward, afraid of the outcomes and the disadvantages at being so honest.

But this brings me to my current problem.

He doesn't love me.

Our love was fast to grow, but very passionate. It started with a chaste kiss, that turned into passionate, hot sex with clothes thrown around my apartment, and heart squeezing memories of the night before fresh on our minds in the morning.

And with a silent look to each other in the morning, I knew it was the start of a very difficult and risky relationship.

From there, a pattern had been issued. His bed would be my main destination for the night, and in the morning our actions would resume full of passion and vocal cries loud enough to worry the neighbors.

But, the thought of what kind of relationship this truly came into play. Was a mutual feeling of love involved? Or was it a more friends with benefits sort of thing?

I started to panic. I had loved Roy, from the moment he came to live in my house as a teenager. But what was this? I squirmed constantly with worry and confusion.

And finally, the urge to figure out the truth behind this relationship had finally gripped its control around my mouth and I had, in a moment of passion, voiced my true feelings about him. And what followed was an awkward grunt in response and a continuance in actions while avoiding eyes for the rest of the night.

I didn't know what to do. So I did the first thing that came to mind.

I ignored him.

He started to notice the new attitude towards him while into the third day of the plan. Testing, he would start to ask me questions, just random ones. When I wouldn't answer him, avoiding him with answers such as "Get back to work, sir," and other conversation-ending responses, his face would scrunch in frustration, a palm in a fist and he would explode. His voice was soft but demanding: why was I avoiding him? What was wrong with me? Pleadings to answer him would start, and in a moment of quick thinking and nervousness, I would make an excuse to leave and escape the mental corner he had forced me into.

The pattern had continued for a couple of days. It was Friday, and I could tell that he was not happy one bit about the events that had happened this past week, but I could tell he was up to something. It made me nervous, him knowing something that I didn't was very nerve-racking.

It was reaching the end of the day when I came back to our shared office to find an envelope in my desk, nothing special. My heart skipped a bit. What might be in the letter? A note of anger? An apology? What I have been waiting to hear?

My clammy hands silently opened the anonymous letter, blood pounding in my ears as I read the small letter.

Riza,

Please come to my apartment at 6 tomorrow for dinner.

Roy

For a moment, I was satisfied knowing he had caught the drift in knowing we needed to talk, but then I was angry. Roy had a way of manipulating people into changing their intentions. I didn't feel like being one of his victims, and I sure as hell was not going to be used.

And with a hint of frustration, Saturday had come. And 6 had come even faster, leaving me rushing to put on a casual blouse and skirt, rushing to Roy's house. When I had finally ended up in front of Roy's door, out of breath and softly panting, my hand reached to knock but I froze. What was going to happen during dinner? Was he going to act like I was acting at work? Was he going to question me about what happened at work? What ever else I was about to think quickly was wiped away and replaced with embarrassment as the door swung open, my hand still frozen in air as the raven- haired man stared at me curiously.

"I- I'm sorry," I stuttered, my current position etching his face in confusion. "I was just- just thinking-"

"No, it's okay. Come on in." He politely interrupted my lost voice, while he move aside to let my embarrassed self in. I looked towards his table to notice there was no food, nor was there a smell indicating dinner was almost done from the kitchen. We he saw my confused face, his expression turned serious. "I think we need to talk."

He motioned for me to sit down and I obeyed, sitting on one of the wooden chairs around the table while he stood in the same place with that austere face. Uncomfortable I was, both because the chair was in very poor shape and because of those ebony eyes burning holes into my head.

"Why are you ignoring me all of the sudden?" He questioned, his face betraying its stoic behavior and showing a hint of anger.

"…" Even though I had a great explanation for this turn of events, the words would not summon up to my vocal chords.

An annoyed sigh escaped his lungs as he went to lean against the table, his face hidden by a shadow.

"I…" I just couldn't gather my words enough to say it. My heart was pounding, My hands sweaty. What was wrong with me? Was I afraid of the outcome? That must've been it.

His face turned to my voice, the shadow disappearing and replacing it with a look that said, Well, out with it already!

And with that one look, I couldn't care less what he thought of me. I didn't care if it made me a fool, or if I was the one who misunderstood the situation. Because, I knew with a grim truth, that I was right in treating these past days with such an attitude.

"Do you love me?"

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