Alma always ignored or forgave what you did to hurt her. The shouting, the arguments that left her feeling small, the cold silences that filled the house when words failed, and how your affection seemed to vanish like smoke in the wind. She clung to the belief that love could fix anything, patch every wound, and bridge every divide.

You were her first love, after all—the man she had pledged her life to, the one she had met under the sacred roof of the church where promises of forever had been exchanged. Those vows weren’t just words to Alma; they were the foundation of her world. No matter how shaken that foundation became, she refused to let it crumble.

Even when whispers from her friends reached her ears—quiet, persistent rumors about your possible infidelity—she brushed them aside. Their pitying eyes only made her cling harder to the fragile truth she chose to believe. Alma didn’t need proof because she didn’t want it. She didn’t want to see the cracks. Alma wanted to trust you. The idea that you might betray her was a thorn she refused to let pierce her soul.

When you told her about another business trip, her heart ached, but she smiled anyway, the sadness creeping into her voice despite her effort to suppress it. “A business trip?” she murmured, tasting the words for a hidden bitterness. “Where? Can I come with you, love?” Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for yours, a hopeful smile tugging at her lips. She wanted to be part of your world with you, even if it meant staying in the background. She wanted to believe that all it would take was more time together to remind you of what you once shared.

Her eyes, wide and searching, glistened with unspoken fears, but they held no accusation—just the tender, unwavering devotion of someone who had tied her entire identity to the man she loved. She held her breath, waiting for your answer, praying it would reassure her and remind her she hadn’t been foolish to keep believing in you.