"Mom?"

Bare feet clattered along the wooden floor, stopping in the tiled kitchen where the tall blonde stood hunched over a counter, chopping up vegetables for dinner that night. The light in the room was dimmed, creating a soft ambiance for the teenager to speak. Slowly, tossing the chopped vegetables into the pot, the blonde turned to look at her teenage daughter, noticing that there was mascara streaking down her cheeks. "Claire?"

"Mommy!" Claire shouted, running across the short distance to her mother's open arms. "He broke up with me, mom! He didn't even give me a reason, he just went and ended it over a text."

The blonde gently combed her hand through her daughter's hair, kissing the top of her head. "Claire, I'm so sorry. He didn't say why?"

"No, he just sent me a text this morning that said he was tired of me. What does that even mean!?" Claire's voice cracked hard as she began to cry some more. "I loved him, mom!"

The woman sighed softly and moved her hands so they were rubbing her daughter's shoulders. Softly leading her hands down to Claire's palms, she tugged her over to the kitchen table. "Sit down. I'll make you some cocoa, and we can discuss this."

Reluctantly, Claire sat at the table and looked up as the green eyed elder danced around the room, as if she'd never seen a heartache in her life. Claire always admired her mother for her strength, especially for keeping her and Kevin after their father abandon them. "I don't think I want cocoa."

"Don't be silly, you love cocoa." The blonde reached up into the cabinet to pull down the powder mix and tugged the door to the fridge open with her free hand. "Cocoa fixes everything."

"Mom, Jake didn't say anything to me. He was just fine the last time I saw him, and then he just…stopped loving me. Who does that?" Claire inquired, her hands resting pitifully at her sides. "Who just…falls out of love?"

The mother took a deep breath and let it go, calming herself. "I know it hurts to hear it, but it happens sometimes. The worst feeling in the world is knowing you love someone a lifetime more than they will ever love you. But sometimes, Claire, people just…aren't compatible."

"What about you and Richard?" Claire mumbled softly. "Why didn't that work out?"

"Because he didn't understand that you and your brother were part of the deal. I won't give up either of you for my own happiness." She poured the milk into a pot and leaned a hip against the counter, stirring idly while it heated up. "He's not the last man left, nor is he the last of your disasters. It's going to hurt for a while, but you'll get through it. Just like you got through that broken leg you thought would never heal."

"I don't want to get over him." Claire whispered.

The mother sighed again. "Then you're robbing yourself of a beautiful life. If you continue to let him win, you'll never see the wonderful things life has to offer you, Claire. I know that it may seem dark right now, and that there's no hope, but one day you'll come across a guy holding a candle. And that candle, even though it's small, is enough to get you through the darkness. Even a tiny light can illuminate the darkest path. It seems crazy, but we're meant to be this way - fragile, I mean - we're created this way so that we learn not to get attached to people so easily."

"He said to me, mom, he said let me be your fairytale. I wanted so badly to believe he was my fairytale! Fairytales don't exist! They never did! All he sold me were lies, mom!" Claire screamed, her voice echoing off the hollow walls. "He never loved me."

Her mother sighed and poured the milk from the pot into a glass, quickly whipping up the cocoa and setting a glass across from her daughter. As she put the pot into the sink, the elder turned and sat down across from the child, staring at her. It was the first time that she'd noticed her mother was still wearing her wedding ring. "Let me tell you an interesting story about fairytales, baby girl."

Claire looked to her mother with a frown, stirring the powder in the milk without much thought. "Is this about you and Richard?"

"No, this is about someone else." She smiled a little whimsically. "I grew up with a boy named David. We never called him David, we always called him Gordo, because his last name was Gordon. For whatever reason, that's just what stuck. That boy and I, we did everything together. We played together after school, we did projects together…sure, we had our fights now and again, but we were inseparable. He spent thirteen years trying to get me to love him, and I just couldn't do it. I was so madly in love with another man. When I told Gordo, he was heartbroken. I had never seen him so devastated. Finally, one day in Italy, I kissed him. We ended up going out for a few years, even going so far as to planning our future." She looked down at her reflection in the mug of cocoa, her heart starting to ache. "I finally started to see him for who he was, for what he had been trying to do. He was a great guy - an amazing guy. He'd never done any wrong, never hurt me, nothing. I was his treasure. I found out I was pregnant with your brother, when you were about two years old, and he made plans to drop out of college to stay with me to take care of us. I wouldn't let him. This was his dream to be a director. I wouldn't let anything stand in his way. I started to grow distant, hesitant. He assumed I didn't love him anymore, and decided to leave me. It was a stupid misunderstanding, but it happened that way. I finally decided to love him back after it was too late…he'd already made up his mind."

"That's dad? My dad was the famous director that you talk about all the time? The one who has a spot on our shelf of movies?" Claire inquired.

Lizzie nodded and frowned sadly. "I think about him sometimes. It's been sixteen years, and I still think about him. I tried calling him once, just before you were born, asking him if I could send his things back to him. He had told me he didn't want them back - to never contact him again. I was heartbroken, so, so heartbroken. I had never experienced grief quite like that before." She took a deep breath and sipped at her cocoa, the ring glinting in the light. "I don't like thinking about it. It just hits me when I least expect it. When I hear his favorite song - which, mind you, is Fly Me To The Moon by Frank Sinatra. He'd always beg me to dance to it when it came on…or he'd start singing it. I find his old home movies in the boxes in the basement and I can't bring myself to watch them. I can't get rid of them, either. I always have those unfriendly little reminders around here, when I see someone hold their hand the same way - the way he used to hold his pinkie when he talked."

Claire frowned and looked at her mother with sad blue eyes. "Doesn't it hurt you?"

"Sometimes it does, yes, especially when I see Kevin. He looks every bit of your father when he was young." Lizzie looked down at her ring. "It was all over some stupid misunderstanding. I never could find it in my heart to send the letters I wrote; he told me to never contact him again, and I respected that. I never told him you made it this far, I never told him about your brother's accomplishments, I never bothered him again. He made his demands and I respected him enough to not hinder that." With a tiny smile, she reached out at her daughter, taking her hands into her own worn fingers. "Your father was a great man, Claire. He never did anything to harm anyone. He only wanted to help people. I always wanted him to know that this bitterness that consumed him, that took him over and made him dark…I wanted that to go away, even if he never talked to me again. No matter what he or the world things, he is a nice person. He found me when I was hiding from the world…he isn't a bad person."

"Maybe one day that will fade and he'll let you talk to him again," Claire offered, rubbing her mother's fingers gently. "I pray, I hope, I wish, even, that I'll be able to talk to Jake again one day. I don't care if it takes days, months, or even years. I want him to see that I never hated him. It's just so hard when he broke up over a text. He didn't want to see me."

Lizzie sighed. "I know you won't like my answer, sweetie, but either he's a coward, or he knew he couldn't handle your tears. The point is, Claire, I could spend the rest of my life quantifying it, justifying it, trying to find the answers to these questions. I could come up with theories and answers, and make up these wonderful and elaborate stories about what happened between us. But the reality is that he's gone. And maybe that's what I needed to finally move on. Sometimes people don't stay around in your life, no matter how badly you want them to. Sometimes they're around to teach you a lesson. He was my first real love, and I won't be able to just 'forget' him. Maybe one day we can talk and I can get closure finally, but until then, I wish him nothing but the best. I hope he finds that beautiful dream he's looking for, that happiness he's searched for. That's all I can do. There won't be any answers, or reasons. Just the painful reminder that I'll never really know what happened with us."

"Do you think he'll ever come back to you? I mean, did you ever believe the fairytale?"

Lizzie smiled. "Of course I did. I still do. It just means that now I'm a little wiser about who I get my information from. Just like you need to hold your head high and show these guys what you're made of. And it isn't sugar and spice; it's dragon scales and the blood of a warrior. Your father wouldn't have given up, and neither should you. All you can do is make yourself better and show Jake what he's missing out on by leaving you."

"Thanks, mom." Claire whispered, vacating her spot to hug her mother. "I'm sorry about you and dad, though."

Lizzie nodded and looked up at her daughter as the teenager wrapped her arms around her mother's neck from behind. Lizzie gently touched her hands to her daughter's arms. "I'm not. One day we'll cross paths again and he'll understand what a horrible mistake he's made. But until then, all I can do is live for you and your brother."

"I guess so," Claire murmured. "Speaking of brothers, I think he went to Riley's house today."

"That's fine, Miranda knows that he's not allowed to stay the night." The blonde stared at the table as the teenager left the room, her heart beating a million miles an hour. When she knew it was safe, and she was alone, she began to cry softly. "Those questions that will never be answered are the hardest things to face…"

I'm going through something right now. I loved my Cheshire (which was the nickname I gave to my last boyfriend). He spent a year trying to get me to love him, and I kept looking around him. We finally dated, and I was so unbelievably happy with him for quite some time until he broke up with me over a text saying he "lost interest". He left me crying in the middle of the street, then proceeded to tell me to never call him or contact him again. And I don't know what I did wrong. I likely never will. That's why this story exists. I might continue on it, I might leave it go, I guess it depends on how much positive response I get. All I know is that if he saw this, if he read it and understood how heartbroken I was, maybe then he wouldn't have such hatred for me.

So, this is dedicated to the one man I ever actually loved.

And I still love you, Cheshire.