Free The Knight Of The Rose by A. M. Hudson

sorry. If I had known—”
    “It’s not your fault, David. You did the right thing. Better to feel undesirable for a few days
    than to be dead, right?” I laughed a short release of tension.
    “Do you love him?”
    “Who, Mike?”
    “Yes, Mike.”
    “I—” My eyes drifted past David’s hips, to nothing in particular.
    “S’il vous plait, mon amour, tell me the truth. It will hurt me more if you lie.”
    “I...” New tears came for a new kind of pain; betrayal, unrequited love, the loss of a friend. I
    haven’t cried for Mike yet, and I’ve needed to so badly. I closed my eyes, and a tight cramp twisted
    my heart.
    If Mike had loved me that night, I wouldn’t be here. But he didn’t, and now I have David—
    only to lose him too. I’ll never be happy, of that I’m sure.
    Finally, I looked up at David and wi ped the rain-mixed-tears from my cheeks. “I love you
    more than I love him.”
    David stiffened and drew back a li ttle more. “But he’s better for yo u. You can live with
    him—die with him.”
    “But he doesn’t love me, David.”
    “You lied to me,” he said coldly.
    “I know.” My eyes closed involuntarily, stinging from the tears. “I’m sorry. I know I told you
    once that I don’t love him; it’s just that—I’m re ally confused.” I looked at him—he looked away.
    “When Mike rejected me, I locked all the feelings I have for him deep inside. I felt so damn stupid.
    So, I denied it to everyone, and, I guess I lied to myself as well.” I touched my hand to my chest and
    the words came out as a breathless whisper, “I should have known my own heart better.”
    With his jaw set stiff, David glared down at me. Everything around me felt cold; my arms,
    my face, the air, and my heart. As a dista nt roll of thunder echoed off the mountains to the east, I
    shivered inside; a storm is coming.
    “Perhaps, with thi s information coming to light, we no longer need our last two weeks
    together.”
    “David. No.” I rose to my knees, shaking my head fiercely. “Please? It doesn’t have to be this
    way. We—we can work it out—”
    “There’s nothing to work out. You love Mike, and you don’t want immortality.”
    “I never said that. Please, we can make our own future. I belie ve in magic st ill. I believe
    there’s hope for us—for our life—together.”
    He placed a finger over my lips and brought his face down to align our eyes. “No, Ara, my
    love. It is all too clear to me now. I have to be the strong one—for both of us—” he dropped his
    finger, “—and you have to be the one that goes on. You must go on—have babies, beautiful babies,
    and be happy—live that dream. You’ve been wai ting for me to tell you I’ll stay—that all of this is
    some nightmare. But, my love—” He smiled, looking at my eyes, my lips, then my eyes again. “It’s
    not.”
    “But, David, I—”

    He shook his head and wi ped my cheek. “Shh, don’t cr y. I love you, and you will always
    belong to me; I will always be with you, but I can’t keep lying to myself, believing that you’ll change
    your mind.”
    “But, maybe I will.”
    He shook his head again. “Even then, it would only be to save me from eternal solitude. And
    for that reason, I just can’t take you r dreams away, and I can’t take your life. It is your greatest gift,
    and my greatest sacrifice.”
    “David,” my voice quivered.
    “Look—” He pointed to a blue and black butter fly, flitting around a single beam of s unshine
    falling through trees as the rain slowed to a soft patter. “You see, you’re much like the butterfly.” He
    leaned closer to me. “She starts her life in the shadows, close to the ground. She lives and exists only
    as others see her; a caterpillar, nothing more—then, one day, she bloomed into a beautiful, brightly-
    winged creature—so free, so pure. Something she could never have been , had someone taken her
    away.
    “Her life is short in comparison to most, but in each