He’d been away for months now. Missing him was an ache in her heart. Hearing his voice on the phone whenever he had managed to call only served to make the tears flow, although she always held them back until she’d hung up so that he didn’t worry about her. He was due home any minute now. She hoped her greeting would be enough to make him forget his need for food for awhile; she wanted him so badly. She’d intentionally made chili in the crock-pot so that dinner wouldn’t be ruined if it waited several hours to be served. She was looking at her reflection in the mirror when she heard his key in the door. Her heart began pounding, her fingers and toes tingled and her heart felt like it’d explode. She hoped he liked what he saw when he walked through the door. She’d changed her hair color and hair style a bit since he’d last seen her, and she’d been toning up at the gym, more as a way to fight the loneliness than from any desire to improve her appearance.
She hurried down the stairs with an excited greeting on her lips and her arms opened to hold him. She saw him, head bent down to examine the keys in his hand. He turned to close the door and lock it. His dark hair was shorn so that none of his lush curls showed. She frowned. He stood straight then, facing her. His face had lost all of the soft roundness she had remembered. It was a man’s face, now. His dark eyes glinted, and she saw none of the compassion she’d known before when she met his eyes now. She wanted to weep from the joy of having him back and for the loss of the boyish innocence he’d previously kept well into adulthood. She whispered his name and opened her arms again; she accepted, in that moment, all that he was now no matter how much he’d changed.
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My Muse Speaks Softly 