Maybe he hadn't lie.
Maybe he did love her.
Maybe he was telling the truth about being fed an extremely large amount of lust potion which led him to bed that gold-digging whore.
Maybe he isn't lying now and still loves her as he claimed.
Maybe…
However 'maybe's there may be, she knew for sure she still loved him.
It was six months after the funeral; eight, since they broke up.
She read the parchment again, the edges of her lips slightly quirking.
Will you go out with me?
She contemplated for a short while before writing her answer.
Maybe.