Despair
When he's finished growing up.
She's been promising herself for years.
When he's finished growing up.
He'll see how silly he's being someday, wasting all this time on needless pettiness and cruelty.
When he's finished growing up.
He could earn the respect he wants easily through the creativity and skill and sheer brilliance that have made her his devotee and more.
When he's finished growing up.
There's really no point in putting so much effort into a carefully designed and percariously structured scheme to seize respect through dishonest means, at the cost of innocent lives – he'll see that someday.
When he's finished growing up.
But lately, she's begun to stop short and stare in disbelief at the naivete and selfishness revealed in this or that absurdly simplistic statement. He sounds just like an overindulged little boy, sulking the first time he found someone who wouldn't give him his own way.
When will he be finished growing up?
Maybe she's been hoping in vain all this time, waiting for something that will never happen.
Because some people never grow up.