𝙑𝙞𝙭𝙚𝙣 || 𝙏𝙧𝙞𝙥𝙡𝙚 𝙁𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙚𝙧

Thirty.

In the permanent fatigue of tragedy, she had to accept his departure, because after all, she was the one who pushed him away, even if she didn't want to. At first, it was hard for her to walk across the bridge over the water, for she could only see herself and William, in their younger years, playfully shoving one another to see who'd fall in first, and whoever dropped into the river would pull their companion in with them, which would blossom into a heated session of passion along the grassy bank.

No longer able to eat at fast food restaurants, she found herself staring into the windows to where she and Will once sat, throwing fries into each other's mouths and whoever scored three in a row was rewarded in a milkshake, however, it was a pleasant treat for both, seeing as how they retrieved an extra straw to share the contents.

Every time Ben lay behind her, tangled in their white love-stained sheets, goosebumps rose along her arms with each finger he twirled in her sandy hair. She hated visualising William toying with her locks from behind and every time she went to attack the stranger, she found the much older man standing, a cheeky grin on his face and when she'd stick her tongue out in response, his laugh would echo and still, to this day, it radiated inside her mind every time she heard Ben chuckle.

Despite the monotonous downward spiral into a pit of depression, light shone through the well and guided her onward and upwards. Ben had been affected by William's departure and with knowing it was for the best, it still hurt him to know that Margo was commiserating for Will. He wasn't as stupid or naive as she supposed he was. He turned a blind eye for so long that he forgot how it felt to be loved so purely and passionate, the same way in which she felt for William, but with his loss came the undivided attention, and with the newfound flame, followed the happiness in the spring.

In the early rising sun, she walked home and patted the fur of her golden retriever. In the dust, her cowboy boots created small clouds of dirt and with the straw hat resting on her head to block out the heat, their modern countryside farm came into view. The house itself stood tall with celadon wooden panels landscape with the same colour of front door, a grey cross-gabled roof, a chestnut beam overhead and a wooden porch which was supported by a mixture of cream bricks, accompanied by steps to allow the individuals to enter the haven.

Smiling, she heard the neighing of horses that awoken from a full nights rest, and soon, she was sure the cattle, pregnant sheep and pigs would follow suit. With the farm not too far away from their back garden, she was able to see the horses beginning to roam in their pens. She never would have thought she'd be in the position to call this paradise her home. Hell, she never would have thought she'd been alive by twenty nine with a loving husband and precious daughter.

The morning sun shone through both the cream curtains and blinds, showing the beauty of tanned hues in the sparkling light. With Ben's broad back moving with steady breaths, Margo could see the beautiful pattern of moles and freckles that imprinted on his skin. His hair had grown longer since the failed attempt of a wedding. Now, the ends of his hair licked above his shoulders and the hairs on his face had also grown, however, a beard was a major turn off for his wife, and so, he kept the moustache above his lip with the stubble around his jawline.

Ever so gently, Margo got back on top of their bed after taking her boots off. On her side, her frail hand traced along her husband's handsome features. This time, she saw him for himself and not his brother, and just when she thought she was over him, life always had a backup plan to revoke her attempts of committed thoughts.

"Mornin, baby."

Ben's husky voice never failed to make her thighs tremble. Through his disorientated blinking eyes, he felt his wife trace around his swollen lips and he barely placed a kiss to the tip of her index finger.