our distance and that person

He lied to himself every day. He told himself that he loved her and only her, that there never had been anyone else. She kissed his cheek amiably (knew what an awful liar he was) and said pretty words to him.

But still, to him (at least now) she was the first.

And when their heads hit the pillows late at night, and the gap between their bodies increase every time, he never let her go. Or his ideal of her. Because to him, Ursa and her sister were one and the same.

(Twins, he remembered. They even looked alike, sounded alike. They were like copies he could compel himself to love.)

Except one died long, long ago.

And the other was forced to live.

And the other became her sister perfectly and married the prince (in her sister's place). And the other never knew anything because she was bound and tied (to forget).