She came today. I realize that she's been here before, but never so that we had a chance to meet. Zuko was always careful about that sort of thing, up until now. He says that there was no way to avoid it this time, and although I want to believe him, I can't.
They say that you never forget your first love, and she was his. I have a feeling that no amount of time will ever be able to erase his feelings for her, or hers for him. So I looked forward to the meeting with great trepidation, wondering if Zuko would at last exchange my plain form for her beautiful one.
When she first saw me, she greeted me with a wave and a smile, as though I were a dear old friend. Her enthusiasm didn't quite reach those expressive blue eyes of hers, however, so I know that she was just pretending for his sake.
When he greeted her, he remained by my side, his voice friendly but not too much so. I know that he wanted to pull her into his arms and hug her for all that he was worth, but he wrapped his arm around my shoulders instead. This he did for my sake.
She was every bit as beautiful as I remembered, her long dark hair arranged impeccably and the kohl lining her blue eyes making them seen even larger and more entrancing. She was small, but every feature was perfect. She is an easy girl to hate, I must admit. Even if I weren't jealous of Zuko's affections I would probably still dislike her.
The conversation was strained between the pair, and I didn't bother to converse at all. It is better to seem bored than jealous; better to appear nonchalant than hurt. I pretended not to notice how Zuko would stare at her for just a moment too long, how he had to hold himself in check when he went to lean towards her. I consoled myself with the thought that he had not yet left my side, although that was little consolation. I knew that his heart had already fled mine, so what did his body matter?
When the evening was over, I was grateful. Zuko and I retreated to the garden, leaving the blue-eyed temptress behind us, hopefully for the very last time. We didn't speak as we sat side by side on our bench, but Zuko seemed to understand how hurt I had been by the encounter. He took my hand in his and squeezed it tightly, letting me know that he was there for me; that he may not love me as he did her, but at least he cared for me a great deal.
It takes me a moment, but I squeeze his hand just as tightly as he had done mine. For despite how it pains me to know that the man I love is in love with another woman, I understand. And I love him all the more.