She told me, "It feels nice..."
She was looking at me with eyes begging for understanding. Her hands were fluttering to her tummy, her bag, her hair. "It felt nice that a guy would ask you to marry him even if there is no pressing reason. I mean, I'm not pregnant. We're both not desperately old."
At this point, she was nodding her head. It's as if she's finally convinced again that she was right to accept the marriage proposal.
"It's probably the best that I could hope for." she concluded.
"Do you love him?" I asked.
She smiled thinly. "Love him? Yes. But not all the time. There is no perfect relationship, Liv. There's just this."
"Are you sure?"
Again, the confusion rose to her eyes. But she answered, "Yes."
Oh, dearest. Please, I ask you to be sure.