Lloyd Henry Roche.
How I despise him.
He is free to court Vera – to hold her hand, touch her, caress her.
To steal a kiss from her.
He’s been courting her for weeks and I cannot stand it.
Sitting behind my dressing table, I stare blankly at my reflection. I’ve claimed a headache in order to be left alone by Mother and my brothers.
In truth, I’m sulking, thinking about how things will never be the same again.
That I’ve lost her.
A sob threatens at the realization that I never truly had her to begin with.