John Thornton watched on the balcony as Margaret Hale opened the door to her carriage.
The snow was falling down slowly and made a white blanket over the dirty ground of Milton.
Every snowflake echoed in John's empty heart, he would have cried though it never helped situations.
It was cold and John could see his breath.
She gracefully got in, and closed the wood door softly behind her.
He felt as if his heart had been torn out. She wasn't coming back. Not ever.
After all she had no one to come back to, other than a few friends she would surely write to. He meant nothing to her, or so he thought.
The snow fell on top of the carriage as the driver sat back up on his seat and took hold of the reins.
He wanted so badly to run after her and confess his love to her again, but he was afraid she felt nothing for him, and never would.
The carriage began to move. Out loud to himself he quietly said, "Look back."
The carriage gained a bit of speed. All he knew was he was cold and heartbroken. It was a feeling no one could ever fix, an emptiness that dulled all happiness that had ever existed.
No one looked out of the window. No one.
"Look back at me," he whispered even softer. He was waiting for something that would never happen. She never looked back.
He starred blankly at the carriage as it moved through the snow.
His heart skipped a beat as the carriage left his sight and round the corner. She was really gone.
It was now he knew that he would be alone forever. She was the only one for him and she already had a man.
He tried to dismiss what he had seen at the train station but the truth hit him hard. They were close.
The hallow part of him that had once been his heart now belonged to a woman who did not return the favor.
The truth was as pale and plain as cotton. And yet it could hurt as bad a hard blow to the gut.
This is how life worked.