Even without seeing her face, I know that the woman standing at the water’s edge is desperately sad. Her back is to me and her shoulders are slumped, perhaps heavy with regret. It kills me to know I am partly to blame, and for that reason alone, it’s impossible to look at her. Leaning against the rough trunk of the tree, I close my eyes. My life will forever begin and end with her, and I’m unable to witness her heart breaking.

Standing still is no longer an option, so I begin to pace. Is she still waiting for him or has he already left? Fear pools in my veins at the uncertainty. Above all else, I want her to be happy. If this is too hard, I’ll have to walk away again. I let out a long breath, frustrated by the whole situation.

Emerson Hart is the love of my life. Unfortunately, I’m not the only love of hers. And therein lies the problem.