I watch him with her out of the corner of my eye; it seems like I'm always watching him. When he deigns to look at me, speak to me, I feel my heart soar and my pulse drum. But when he turns from me to look at her, I feel my blood run cold.
It's not love that I feel for him…no, never love. The fact that I have memorized his every feature in my mind's eye, the fact that I can pull his voice out of a throng of thousands means nothing. The fact that I feel like my heart has been wrenched from my chest when he is away and the fact that I am in eternal torment when he is near doesn't mean that I feel anything for him.
No, I don't love him; not at all.
I hear the timbre of his laugh, and know that it is she he is laughing with. I've seen them speak to each other in low voices, seen the blush creep up to his cheeks when he places her hand on his cheek. I see his eyes soften when she draws near, the gentle smile that curves upon his lips when they speak.
I know it is right that he loves her. She is both kind and beautiful, and she never thinks of herself…only her family. She makes him happy, and he hasn't been happy in so long. He deserves to have some joy in his life.
Though I know all this, I hate it. I hate how he sighs and kisses her palm; hate how he can share everything with her when he won't even spare me the briefest of glances. But I'm not jealous; no, not at all.
Because if I was jealous, it would mean that I am in love with him, and I am not. I, Mai, noble woman and ex patriot of the fire nation, do not fall in love.
He laughs again, and I feel my gut clench as he rests his hand on her knee. I ignore the pain that fills my breast as their lips tenderly brush against one another's, and I watch him. I always watch him…