�What do you see when you look in the mirror,� he asked.
�What?� she replied, shocked by his abrupt question.
�What do you see when you look in the mirror,� he repeated, this time a little slower and clearer to ensure that she heard him correctly.
�What kind of question is that,� she challenged.
She walked across the room and emptied the laundry basket onto the bed. �What made him ask this?� she mused to herself as she began separating the whites into piles. �Socks over there, underwear over there, and shirts in front of me.�
�I dunno,� he answered, shrugging. �It�s just a question.�
She made a noise of acknowledgement and continued folding, ignoring the possible answers to his question that were zooming through her brain. �Don�t worry about it and maybe he wont..�
�Well,� he prompted, his eyes boring into her back. He noticed how she tensed up and let out a breath. It wasn�t out of frustration or annoyance with him but out of nervousness, like he had asked a question that had made her scared. A question that would make her reveal some sort of awful secret that she had kept hidden from him.
She bit her lip out of habit. �Well what?�
Nervously she paid more attention to the task at hand, folding shirts. �Smooth the shirt out, fold, fold, flip it into a square, smooth out.� She grabbed another shirt and repeated the action again. She added that one to the pile of growing shirts and grabbed the last one. �Please. Please don�t ask me again. Please, please, plea..�
�Do you really want me to repeat it again?�
She shook her head and remained silent. She grabbed the pile of shirts and hurriedly walked over to the dresser that they shared. She opened the top drawer and began shoving shirts in hastily; forgetting that they were being wrinkled and the meticulous folding job she had just done was being ruined.
�Do you hate what you see,� he asked quietly. She stopped altogether then. �Is that it? You hate what you look like?�
She shook her head and closed the drawer after the last shirt was shoved in. She gripped the top of the dresser and looked down. �No.�
�Then what is it?� he pressed. �Why wont you answer my question?�
�Because it�s a stupid question,� she snapped.
�Can�t you just answer the question?�
�I don�t!� she answered quickly, her voice a higher level. She turned around and faced him. �Ok, I don�t. Is that good enough for you?�
�What do you mean you don�t?�
She sighed and rolled her eyes at him. She ran a shaky hand through her long hair and looked everywhere but his eyes. One look into those eyes of his and she knew she�d loose all sense of control that she had over her emotions. �I don�t look in the mirror,� she answered quietly.
�Do you hate what you see? Is that why you don�t look into the mirror?� he asked quietly, staring at her face, trying to get her to look at him.
�Jesus Christ, is this twenty questions or something?� she asked, exasperated. She looked at his face through the corner of her eye and her heart leapt up into her throat. �God, those eyes should be made illegal.� �Jeez, I�m sorry. I didn�t mean to snap at you.�
�It�s all right,� he answered. He got up and wrapped his arms her waist, hugging her to him. He kissed her temple and rested his chin on her shoulder, a silent gesture that the topic wasn�t closed but that he was going to let her continue and that he wasn�t going to push her any further.
�I don�t hate what I see,� she replied softly, leaning back into his familiar embrace. �I don�t hate nor like what I see. I�m just me.�
He frowned against her hair and tightened his embrace around her. �I love you.�
�I love you, too.� �Please let him drop the subject. I can�t explain it to myself, how am I supposed to explain it to him?�
He kissed her temple once more and grabbed her elbow lightly, �C�mon.�
�Huh? Where are we going?� she asked, confused.
He didn�t answer, just pulled her lightly to the bathroom that connected to their bedroom. He flipped the switch on and stood in front of the vanity mirror. She froze at the door and stared at him. Those eyes of his stared back at her, telling her she could trust him as he stretched his hand out, silently asking her to join him.
Reluctantly she took his hand and stood in front of him. He wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her close again. He frowned when he saw that her eyes were cast downward.
�Look,� he commanded softly. Slowly she raised her eyes and instead of looking at herself, she looked at him. �No, look at yourself.�
Slowly she averted her eyes from his to her own. She blinked and stared blankly at herself. Brown orbs boring into her, making her feel incredibly uncomfortable.
�Now, what do you see?� he asked quietly. His chin rested on her shoulder, watching her watch herself. He saw her bit her lip, a habit that he knew she did when she was nervous about something.
�Me.�
�No, look deeper than that,� he prompted.
�What do you mean?�
�When you look at yourself, what do you see?� he asked. She stared blankly at herself in answer and he shifted slightly, trying to form the words to help her understand what he meant. �When I see myself, I see a man who followed his dreams and got everything he ever wanted in life, including a woman he loves more than his own being.�
She swallowed the lump in her throat and willed the tears that formed in the back of her eyes to go away.
�Now, what do you see?� he asked again.
She bit her lip again and he could see her eyes moving from side to side, looking deeply at herself, searching for the answer that she always wanted to give herself but could never find. �I see�a woman whose life has only begun when she fell in love with the most beautiful and caring man in the world.�
He turned her in his arms and pulled her tight against his body, hugging her as close as he could get without squishing her. He pulled away just enough to lean his forehead against hers and smiled softly, �Wanna know what I see when I look at you?�
�What,� she asked, slightly choking on her word, the tears she had once willed to go away now spilling freely down her cheeks.
His hands came up to frame her face and he whipped the tiny droplets away with his thumbs. �I see a beautiful girl who loves life and brightens up a room with the smallest of smiles. I see a smart woman who can talk her way into or out of anything and a woman who can make me laugh with ease. I see a woman I trust with my life and love with all of my soul.�
She let out a choked sob and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, burying her face in the crook of his neck. He held onto her tightly and let her sob quietly, the tears hot against his skin, and his own threatening to spill down his cheeks. Knowing that she didn�t see what he saw tore him apart.
�Baby, I love you more than I ever thought I could love someone and it hurts me to know that you don�t see what I see. I want you to know how amazingly special you are. I want you to be happy.�
�I am,� she whispered against his neck. She pulled back and looked at him through glassy eyes as more tears threatened to fall. �I love you and knowing that you love me back makes me happier than ever.�
�Then why can�t you look at yourself in the mirror and be happy?� he questioned softly. �It hurts knowing that you can�t be happy with yourself when just being you makes me glad to be alive.�
�I�m slowly working on that,� she explained softly. �But knowing what you said will help remind me.�
�I thought you knew how much I loved you.�
�I did� I do,� she whispered. �It�s just that, I guess I just needed to hear it to prove that I just wasn�t dreaming.�
�I�ll just have to tell you every day then,� he whispered back. He bent down and kissed her sweetly, showing her through his lips just how much he loved her and more. He pulled back breathless and leaned his forehead against hers and said, �If this is dream then I don�t want to wake up.�