He had never known her. He laughed at the thought, but the laugh was a derisive one. Was he really that blind? It had all been before him, waiting for his attention.
He hated her. Who did she think she was, toying with him like that? He was her plaything, and nothing more. For months now, she had been laughing at him, mocking his stupidity. He would not be mocked.
This was the end. Of his dreams, and of his desperate wishes. Had he been a fool to think he might actually find love? That he might not always be alone? Those dreams were now at his feet in a pile of crushed pieces. She had been leading him on and he had followed like a puppet on a string.
Anger. Betrayal. Hurt.
He hated her.
And he loved her.