It was the spark of a touch that set them off.

It was the delicate unfolding of arms that called their bluff.

She only knew of unrequited love and even denied her own heart when she got together with him.

Natalya had found Francis charming in a way that was so very different from the way that Ivan could be.

She had felt the inevitable fall for Francis that scared her and had her fighting the feelings that began for her boyfriend.

The Belorussian had no idea when she first saw Francis worthy of even getting near her let alone when she started to fall.

All that Natalya could think about was what Francis had become for her and the little things that he'd done to make her days brighter.

The roses in a vase in her kitchen to little love notes scattered throughout the house were a couple of the sweet surprises he left her.

Another were the massages he gave her when her muscles cramped up from a stressful day at work.

She could remember every time that he took her out to sing or dance or have dinner or for a few glasses of wine from a place that definitely knew how to create flawless wine.

Natalya could remember kisses underneath the moonlight and the gentle sway of dancing with Francis as she was nowhere as skilled as Francis was at that.

She could remember cuddling when she should have pulled away to remain unattached.

Natalya knew of whispered words that filled her insides with bubbly warmth and of the gentle beating of two hearts together.

She knew Francis from his playfulness to his flirtatiousness to the man underneath all of that glamour who sometimes even cried himself to sleep when days grew long and bitter.

He is hopeful yet almost hopeless, and she loves him all the more for it and for that.

Natalya refuses love when it does not come from Ivan and so she now stands in a street that used to tell of sweet words and gentle dances, holding on to roses that had long since wilted.

She knew of heartbreak like no other that reminded her that love could be out there, attainable and unattainable at once due to her choices.

Natalya remembers the rush of warmth from arms wrapped tightly around her and laughter after sip after sip of wine.

She remembers as the air chills and as she tries to sleep at night with no love notes in her home, no roses to find after work, and no arms to hold her close.

She remembers all of this for she has lost it from her own desire and now she lives with the memories and not the man.