Point of View
It had happened. It was happening. It had happened. After weeks, months, years of waiting, of forming him into the man she wanted, it had happened: a proposal.
She looked down at the man kneeling at the base of the swaying old poplar. He smiled as he waited for what was sure to be her enthusiastic "yes!"
She thought of the time she had patiently wasted. Eight years. Seven months. Four days. He was now romantic and sincere, but she was dizzy with the math.
I could have moved to India, gotten two degrees, and had a marriage fail. I could have traveled the world, met many people, and seen different cultures. I could have had so many adventures. Why did I have to love him?
Her resentment choked her. He smiled wider, thinking her overwhelmed with joy.
She had so little time to make her decision. One second. The decision of her life. Any longer and he would know the answer anyway. Already, too much of her time with him had been spent scheming.
Sickened with herself, she looked at his hopeful face. She looked at the man she had changed. Thought of what she had sacrificed. Thought of what she had made him sacrifice. So she chose.
"Yes!" She smiled back at him, tremulous.
The bile stuck in her throat and she closed her eyes against the tears that burned behind them.
And he kissed her.