The only thing she ever wanted was his presence. Comforting as snowflakes in bright winter mornings. Everything else was petty and insignificant. Words of revenge and brighter worlds were shallow and contemptuous. She had someone to love, someone to share a lifetime with, and someone that could understand her pain and stay with her in all those fleeting moments, and that's all that mattered. There and forever. And that's how it had been in the beginning, where love was still promising and fresh as an icy breeze, cooling the burns from past sufferings.
But it hadn't been enough for him. Sometimes she wondered why he had to chase the ghosts from the past, why he couldn't just let it go. But he couldn't. He had carried the shackles of pain and suffering, her pain and suffering. Thus he had given up on his life and many others' in the desperate hope of retrieving that which could never be retrieved. His life had ended, simple and brief and so much beneath the importance it held.
The snowflakes had melted but the warmth did not reach her heart. The light shone far from sight. But the world would go on, spinning and turning, regardless of the lives that ended, regardless of the heart that froze in her chest. And maybe the warmth would never reach her again, but at least she could take comfort in the thought that she had no option but to move forward. Even if the world became a place of infinite darkness, she only had to move forward. That was the only choice he left her, a path of certitude and desolation. This way she couldn't recede; she couldn't clutch to the memory of the past and keep from moving forward.
The world was too warm for her.