Always Staring
Three weeks. It has been three long, blissful weeks. Three weeks since that night. Three weeks ago that he and I ran off and got married. Three weeks. I have no intentions of leaving him; he knows this, yet I often catch him staring at me as if any minute, I am going to vanish before his eyes, and he'll never see me again. Not likely. I'm perfectly happy where I am.
I'm sitting at my vanity in our bedroom, brushing my hair. Every moment or so, I glance his way; He's sitting crossed-legged on the bed, reading; and staring. At me. He's always staring. But, of course, I never mind.
I still remember that night; the night we were married. It happened so fast, but I remember everything as if it happened in slow motion. So fast, so sudden, but no regrets. None. The way he looked at me. The way he held my hand, everything was perfect that night. Sure, I was with the man I loved, but I had left the other alone, crying, with no one to comfort him. And it didn't bother me. Somehow, it didn't bother me. Somehow I knew he'd survive, go on as he had done before I entered his life. At least I hoped.
I still can't believe it happened. It's so strange. I'm married. He's my husband…and I'm his wife. I never dreamed I'd be someone's wife…. but here I am…. a wife to the most wonderful man ever. How did I wind up so lucky? Actually, if I think about it, I'm not lucky. I'm blessed. Truly blessed.
He's staring again. Always staring. He watches my reflection in the mirror and I look at him through the mirror as well, and our eyes meet. After a moment, I turn around to face him, and smile.
"What?" He asked, almost timidly.
I shake my head and look down at the gorgeous ring on my finger. "It's nothing. I'm just so glad I chose you, Erik."
Fin