Angol
Once upon a time, I was a dumbass
.
I'd be the first to admit when I'd made a mistake.
Okay, maybe like... the third. At least in the top ten.
Marrying Simon Detweiler, cast-out Changeling and my best friend, hadn't been a mistake.
Deciding to leave in the middle of the night while he slept, deciding to keep him as far away from the Demonborn and Witches and their damned Revelation plans? That was a mistake. One I'd regretted every second of the day for years.
When Simon didn't return the divorce papers, I had hope.
Kind of.
I knew we would never be anything more than conveniently married, but the longer it went without him signing those papers, the more that little seed of hope grew into a giant tree of stupidity deep in my heart. We were never supposed to be together, not according to the demon-born and definitely not according to the faerie folk that had raised Simon. But still, I couldn't help but dream...
Maybe if I'd told Simon first that I was ass over teakettle in love with him, that would've helped.
