Glass
He never said it meanly. He was kind and gentle as ever, as always. But even so, each word felt like a dagger in my aching heart.
I suppose it was my fault. I could have spared myself, and him, and her the pain if I had been selfless.
Even after I made her my sister, and blessed their joining, I forced my presence on them. It made her uncomfortable, though she never said anything. But I drank in his presence like nectar.
His scent, as heady as ambrosia, to my lovesick senses.
He was so kind, so loving to me; I convinced myself he loved me.
And then I kissed him.
From the moment our lips met, I knew it was wrong. He jerked away instantly; he looked at me in surprise, then hurt.
He told me he loved her, that she was his world, his everything.
I told him he was mine.
He apologized and left, my heart shattering like fragile, spun glass as it smashed on the floor.
I ruined our friendship.
I cried.
