Cosette returned home a few hours later, still not able to believe that it had truly happened. She went straight upstairs into the nursery and called for her son.

"Maman!" he exclaimed with surprise like he usually did. He noted her tears. "Why maman sad?" he inquired. She smiled at him- she'd been working on questions with him, and he was learning beautifully.

She didn't answer him, just swept him into her arms and held him tightly to her, glad he was still small enough for her to lift, and glad she still had a few more years of this. Him needing her desperately, not able to really do anything without help of his mère.

He struggled away from her grip rather quickly, though; at two, he was ready to assert his independence over anything. That meant he was always on the verge of a tantrum, and was rather against being held. She let him go easily, and watched him run off, and resume playing with his toys.

Now, he was all she had left. She had never suspected he would break things off- he seemed destined to forever be a part of her life. He'd touched her life, taught of her happiness and love, and she'd innocently assumed would always be there. But she would never see him again.

If it weren't for her son, Cosette would have ceased eating and remained in her bed all day. But she had a little boy to care for, so each day she rose responsibly and ate her meals. She hid her tears from the boy as well, because she knew she had to appear strong for him. She was meerly going through the motions of being a happy human being, however. Inside, she felt broken beyond repair. She had no idea how she could ever recover from a wound this large and all-consuming. The only person to put a smile on her face was her son, Marius. But he, more than anyone else, reminded her of the love she'd lost.

But after a few months of going through the motions, she began to forget that she was faking them and began to do them without thinking. She woke and rose out of bed right away, without even thinking of her sadness. Her appetite returned, as did her desire to go out into the garden once summer came about. She was healing, and even she couldn't believe it.

Some days, though, the grief still overwhelmed her, even months and months later. One November day, nearly nine months since he'd ended things, Cosette sat alone in her boudoir. She was still in her nightgown and it was nearing mid afternoon. She sat on the floor, rereading all of the letters he'd sent. She could scarcely see the text on the pages anymore, for the tears in her eyes. She traced her fingers over the words in the well-known hand, the reassuring words that promised to love her always.

Where had his promises gone?

For some time after Marius had broken things off, Cosette had been incredibly spiteful. She tried as hard as she could to love Marcel- she worked at it every day. He noticed her efforts and believed that she did love him, and they actually helped her. He was gentler to her, and much, much kinder. She realized that he had probably only acted so harshly out of insecurity, knowing that Cosette hated him. Of course, that did not forgive certain things he'd done- especially the casual way he took advantage of her body for many years- but it put things into perspective.

However, much as she tried, she could not love him. There were too many unpleasant memories, for one. But more than that, he was just not the right person for her. Even at his best, he evoked no passion from Cosette. And even long after she knew Marius was gone, she still compared the two. Once she'd had time with her soul mate, she knew a regular man would not suffice.

So instead of taking time with Marcel, Cosette devoted all of her time with her Marius. She was beginning to feel that he was a genius. He was learning to talk, and his vocabulary was expanding faster than she could teach him. In January and right before he turned three, he knew his whole alphabet and the sounds the letters made. He could not write yet, for his manuscript was ghastly (obviously), but he could recognize many words. In just a month later, when he was three, he could read a short children's book. The thought was astonishing to Cosette- a three-year-old, reading!

It might have had something to do with the amount of time Cosette spent with him. Ever since he'd been born, she'd been at his side teaching him. He'd learned to talk rather young, and everything he'd done was accelerated. She never ceased to teach him new things and he was always eager to learn. She read him books every night before sleeping, and talked endlessly to him. His language was very good because of all the words he'd been exposed to. He played with his toys and looked at pictures of things, and Cosette explained little things about. He knew animal names, colors, and differences between trees, flowers, and bushes. She often wondered about children whose parents essentially ignored them- obviously they would not be so smart as her child. But they would also not be so happy. She knew she would not have flourished without her father's love. Her child could not be this happy without her love.

Still, despite her time spent with little Marius LaFontau, she did not give up on her future with Marius Pontmercy. She remembered once when he'd said he'd been sure they would marry eventually, and so she prayed for that every day. She saw no way for it to happen, but still she prayed, for she knew nothing else to do. And if things got too difficult, she found herself wishing for Marius. He had always been the one who had good words to say to comfort her. He always knew what to say. So she would write him a letter, telling him what was wrong, telling him she missed him and she loved him... but she ever mailed it.

Why should she, anyway? A year went by since they'd ended things, and they hadn't spoken in a year. He could have moved and never would receive her letters anyway.

The initial wound had healed, but it now was a bruise- it hurt whenever she thought about it. It hurt so badly that she sometimes thought it wasn't even real. Yes, she could say she felt better than she did right after it happened, but it still seemed impossible. She still couldn't believe it was over. She knew that she'd never love a man again. Once she'd met Marius, that possibility was forever gone.

There was a tiny part of her that was angry with him. After the pain he'd caused, she wanted to cause pain on his part. A tiny part of her heart wanted revenge. But she buried this part, for she knew it was cruel. She knew that somewhere, he was hurting as much as she was. She knew he wasn't lying when he said he loved her. And she felt guiltier and guiltier as she remembered how, for more than three years, she'd strung him along while she had a family and a husband. The sheer grief he must have felt for that long must have more than added up to the pain she was feeling now. Though now, neither of them had anyone to turn to. So she buried this angry part of her. Most of her heart, though, was aching. It was broken, and she knew it would never repair itself. It needed love, sustenance, and she had nowhere to fine any. And though the pain was all consuming and sucked the meaning out of simple daily actions, she managed to overcome it. She was strong. She could overcome even a broken heart, and go on. She sought happiness with her son.

She only dreaded the day when he would no longer need her. Now that he was three, that day was drawing closer and closer. Yes, it would be years yet, but the day was still looming on the horizon. She couldn't imagine what she would do then.

More coming soon- thoughts? Thanks for your reviews everyone! I know this chapter is shorter than others have been, but there is more coming soon... :) :) :)