It was easy. It was easy to sit here, holding her hand. It was easy to tell her your troubles, pains and fears. She doesn't judge, doesn't care that you aren't perfect and strong. Unlike your husband she can find beauty in imperfections. A blemish here or there, she's had more than her own fair share. But they didn't beat her. You hope they won't break you either.
Sometimes you'd think it was too easy. The warmness she brings. The smiles that came more easily when she was around. You've caught yourself wondering what it would have been like if she'd kept you to herself. Never shared you with her friendly brother-in-law. If you'd just went on being her friend, at her side most days. With nights full of long talks and sappy movies. A shared bowl of popcorn and a worn blanket.
Bobby was nice and kind, just as she'd boasted. "I married the wrong brother" she'd say, giving him a playful pat and a wink. After you finally gave in, he gave you something you'd never had. A home. A family. It was nice. But it still didn't fill that empty spot, didn't fill that need. But you are grateful for everything he's done, everything he is. It's still not enough. He'll never be enough.
You'd like to be at her side, building her up. Watching all her dreams come true in real time, instead of sometimes standing in the sidelines. But that's not going to happen. No. Because sometimes you catch her with a far away look shinning brightly from her soft eyes. That rare smirk that plays on her lips, that's so different from her normal sass. She misses him. Misses him terribly. And those yellow roses that started to show up on her office desk a couple weeks after he woke from his great rest are a warning sign. He's coming back. Coming back to reclaim what's his.
What's always been his. What will never be yours.