Gone

He left her in the summer - after sharing a home, traveling with her cross-country, taking her to meet his mother, asking my father-in-law for her hand in marriage - after all this, he simply left. Started pulling back into himself, piece by piece, slowly until Sil was forced to ask the uncomfortable and the obvious, what's left?

At first, I was worried. Afraid she'd revert to her hardened self, afraid he'd damaged her, nervous that the new, soft Sil that I'd come to appreciate and love would be lost again beneath a layer of anger and disappointment and hurt.

But the world didn't collapse and she did manage to survive, somehow intact - allowing herself the time to be wounded and healed.

And then he called.

Days ago, he called and then arrived at her doorstep with a three-beer glow, asking to come in and talk. Which led to cuddling, which led...to her - open again to the possibility of him. Of them. Of a Spring wedding and a romantic honeymoon. Of saying goodmorning over coffee in their breakfast nook or falling asleep together on the couch. Open to the possibility of life lived with him. Again.

But, like some horrible cliche, he left her with little more than a thin promise to call that turned into her checking her phone, hoping that she wasn't taken advantage of.

But she was.

And I'm baffled. I guess this is where my naivete comes in, but I'm just in awe that people can be so callous and detatched and hurtful - that this cliche scenario is real.