prologue.

He would wide open the door and would notice my immobile body under the covers, thinking I was asleep. Trying not to wake me up, he would carefully get out of his shoes and then would tip toe towards bed where he would let his body fall into a profound feeling of oblivion.

Sometimes, he would just lay there, motionless, looking at the ceiling and sighing repeatedly. In those days, I would try not to make much sound. I wouldn’t want to make him uncomfortable, especially because it was already late for us two, almost strangers, to have a talk. I would try to keep quiet and not let myself explode into the joy of knowing he was just beside me, breathing slowly and blinking his hazel eyes in the dark.

After he fell asleep, I would turn towards him and watch him in his deep dreams. His relaxed facial expression was sublime; it resembled the one of an angel. In those moments I would feel like caressing his forehead and revealing my affection. I would feel like telling him how much I loved him. But I was scared. Scared of his rejection.

Late at night, he would move his whole body and every now and then he would wake me up by placing his hand on my right hip bone, making my whole body shift in sweet delight. I also noticed Ron always mumbled indescribable words between dreams. I would always try to find my name in his dozed lips, but it was useless. Even though he was my dream, I knew there wasn’t a place for me in Ron’s.

“What’s wrong?” he would occasionally ask me in a drowsy voice when he caught me with my eyes open. I would nervously turn my back and respond shyly, “Nothing.” The thoughts in my mind were always appalling. Always pessimistic, too many problems and preoccupations for me to handle even though I was so young.

Finding myself alone in the dark, I would always try to make up some lie to make my wounded heart feel better. I would make myself believe that I and Ron were a married couple. A very happy couple with an already planned wedding and a splendorous honeymoon. But even though it was fun for a while, I would always end up feeling worse, realizing that he and I shared only one thing in common for touring purposes.

A bed.