I should have told her before. I don't know why I didn't. We were together for three years; I was going to propose to her. But then she was gone. I suddenly found myself with nothing more than a ring that she would never wear and a video tape saying that she may never come back. What was I supposed to do?
It had been a year; I had moved on. Why wouldn't she understand that? She is a wonderful woman. She's kind, beautiful, always thinking of those around her. But I can't try to hold on to her any more.
I will never forget the look on her face when I told her. "I met someone." That's all I could say. Three simple words, so simple that by themselves they seem almost insignificant. But the despair and the hurt that they brought when I said them to her . . .
I know that I should have found some other way to tell her. I guess I had hoped that if I just told her that I didn't want to leave my patients to go to Atlantis, she would leave and would never have to know.
I'm sorry, Elizabeth. I never meant to hurt you.