|Forgiven-Challenge 9 of the Romantic Friday Writers|
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She used to love that face. The blonde hair, green eyes alive with mischief, nose with just the slightest bump in the middle. A visage that played with light and shadow, mobile and expressive. Now she viewed it with nothing but veiled loathing.
You are an insignificant nothing. I hate you for being so weak, so easily deceived, so arrogant in your constant assumption that everything will be alright. You fool.
Sighing, she looked down at her hands and said nothing for the moment. If she expected a reply, she got none. The letter she'd found only days ago, the one from his lover, the one he'd had stuffed in his top drawer, lay in a crumpled wad at her feet. He'd apologized, of course, as he always did, taking her in his arms even as she struggled against him. His lying lips had still been flapping away as she tossed his belongings down the stairwell.
She took a deep breath.
I forgive you, she whispered, looking at her own face in the mirror and smoothing a strand of blonde hair behind an ear. Sparkling green eyes, yes, shimmering with tears this time, but it would not always be this way. The long road to recovery had finally begun.
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