Rated: PG-13 or T

Genre: Romance/ Supernatural

Summary: They say true love never dies. And they're right.

A/N: This is a very sad story, but a happy one too. Enjoy!

True Love Never Dies

By: Heather Grey

I was thirteen when I met my soul-mate.

I know what you're thinking: finding your soul-mate at thirteen? C'mon, you don't know anything about soul-mates or love at that age.

Well, you're wrong. I do.

We became best friends first. I still remember the day when we first met…

I was running in the hall. I was late for class. My locker was jammed, I couldn't find my homework, and I had water thrown at me from a water bottle. I was anxious, angry, wet, and crying. I wasn't aware of my surroundings (I was caught up in my emotions) that I collided into him.

I didn't fall, thank God! No, he caught me. His arms fit around my waist perfectly, pulling me close so I wouldn't lose my balance.

I was breathless, embarrassed. I looked up into his eyes and everything faded away.

I heard rumors that the new guy was attractive and he certainly was. But it was his eyes that made his attraction tenfold. They were brown—a light chestnut color, warm and friendly. If you looked deeper, you could spot tiny specks of gold flickering deep in the iris, like sparkling gems.

I was entranced. I forgot that I was late for class, I forgot I still couldn't find my homework, I forgot I was wet. I forgot everything. All my worries vanished by looking into his magical eyes.

It was destiny.

I knew in my heart that there was something special about him. Something… but I didn't know what. I didn't quite understand why I wasn't nervous around him. Had it been some other guy, I would be stammering and blubbering like a little idiot. Yet, I was calm and comfortable.

And I've never had those feelings around boys.

I'm a shy person. I don't talk much, unless I know an answer in class. I have very few friends (those who I can trust) and I had no experience in the dating field. Then again, who would want to date me?

I was nothing special or spectacular. Boys never looked in my direction. They never paid me attention so I tried to do the same. It's hard, though, in middle school. Couples are being formed; sometimes kisses are stolen in the hall. It felt like the whole school was pairing up, but me. Poor lonely me.

The hand holding and the kissing—I was envious. I longed for that! However, it was the forbidden fruit for me. I could want it, but I couldn't reach it to taste. I was me. No one wanted me.

But he did.

He helped me to class and found my homework wedged in between the pages of my textbook. I never told him I was missing it. He just knew.

I couldn't stop thinking about him. Class was hard to concentrate and the rest of the day and night, I continued thinking about him.

The next day I found him at my locker. He looked at me and smiled. No words needed to be exchanged. We were friends.

I harbored a secret crush on him for five years. I know what you're thinking. Five years! And you never told him how you felt?

If you were in my shoes, then you would understand. It's not easy for me to openly tell someone that I liked them. Especially since from all my experiences I was always rejected. There was no point in saying it out loud. I assumed he would be like the others: laugh in my face and say, "Why would you like me when it's obvious I can't like you."

So yes, I kept quiet.

Did he date, you wonder? Yeah. He had two girlfriends, but each didn't last long. But it felt like a lifetime to me. Do you have any idea how gut-wrenching painful it was to watch someone you love kiss another and wishing it was you instead?

Though, you would be happy to know I eventually gained the courage to tell him about my true feelings. It was on graduation day.

I picked it for a particular reason. In the fall, we were going to different colleges. So if he rejected me (which he would) it wouldn't be as painful if I had to see him everyday. It was perfect sense.

While we gathered together on the football field, preparing to throw our caps, I looked him in the eyes (oh how I loved his eyes!) and told him how I loved him. He blinked, stunned.

I closed my eyes, knowing the refusal would come. I waited impatiently, wanting it to be over and done with.

The principal announced our graduation class and as all the white caps flew up in the air, I felt a strange sensation pressed against my lips. It was soft, warm, and sweet.

Wide-eyed, I watched as he kissed me. It was my turn to be stunned! He was kissing me! How often have I dreamt about this?

So I kissed him back, not caring if I was doing it wrong. The fact he was kissing me was amazing and a memory I would never forget.

We pulled back, breathless. He gazed at me with such intensity that the first time in my life I felt like I was beautiful.

"I love you too," he whispered and kissed me again.

He loved me! Me! How could it be possible?

Then it came to me. We were meant for each other. Plain and simple.

Yet, our romance was brief. The summer went by too fast and before I knew it, we were shipped off to college. We kept in contact—we called, e-mailed, and chatted on IM. But it wasn't the same. We needed the physical closeness.

Yet, the more words we exchanged, the more I learned the truth. He had been in love with me ever since the day we met! He was terrified to tell me his feelings, afraid that I would only see him as a brother and not something more. He also told me about his past relationships and why they would never work out.

We've always had a very close relationship. He always knew what I was thinking before I said it and vice versa.

Apparently, this bothered his girlfriends to no end. They were jealous of me! Me! Of all people! He could tell me things that he couldn't share with his girlfriends and he would sometimes call them by my name instead. They were angered by that (rightfully so), but the other things that really got them mad was our need to touch one another. Not in a perverted way.

No…

It was a sitting close, our hands nearly touching, that sort of thing. It was reassurance that the other was there and it felt right. We fit with one another.

When we became an official couple, our closeness deepened. On our last night before college, I was no longer a virgin. And neither was he.

It hurt a little, but he was so gentle and loving that I forgot the pain when we became one. All I had to do was look into his eyes.

We belonged to each other. Forever and ever.

Visiting proved difficult since neither of us had a car. We tried going home on the same weekends, but sometimes our schedules clashed and we would only see each other during the holidays.

It was depressing. I finally had a boyfriend and I couldn't see him. My roommates and friends thought he was imaginary since he never came to visit me and I didn't have pictures of him. That one was kind of my fault. I didn't like pictures taken of myself and he vowed that if I didn't, then he wouldn't either. I thought he was kidding, but he was dead serious.

Suffice to say, it was four years later when we were finally able to be together. Those four years were torture. I saw what my life would be like without him and him with me. It was terrible and together we made a promise that we would never be separated for long.

After graduation, we decided to reacquaint ourselves with one another. We returned to our old haunts and had several passionate make-out sessions to make up for all the loss time we kept our love a secret from each other.

It was several months later when he proposed to me—on the very same day when I ran into him while late for class.

It was so beautiful.

He took me to the city for a romantic dinner and then we danced. There was no music, but the music in our heads and hearts. People around watched us, some saying how cute and happy we looked.

I blushed, finding it hard to believe that I would fall into that category. But he kissed me in front of everyone, beaming like a fool.

"You are beautiful," he told me. "You're all that I ever wanted."

Such simple, simplistic words. But it meant the world to me.

He got down on one knee and proposed. I said yes.

We were anxious to be married. He wanted me to have his name immediately. He said he was waiting for years for this moment to come when he could make me his completely.

I was already his—heart, body, and now soul. Though, I understood his eagerness. I felt the same way too.

The wedding took place some months later. It was small, intimate. Only family and friends were invited.

I don't want to sound cliché but on my wedding day, I truly felt like a princess. For the first time in my life, I felt like the only beautiful human being in the world. I never had been so happy in my entire life and at last we were husband and wife.

Life couldn't have gotten better.

But it did.

I was pregnant. Not a month into our marriage, I found out I was carrying our child.

I cried at the news. This was all I ever wanted, ever hoped for! I couldn't believe this was real. I feared it was some wonderful dream and I would wake up being thirteen all over again.

I had believed I would grow old alone, a spinster. I had believed I would never find love, let alone true love. But I did. I really did.

When I told him, we both burst into tears and kissed one another until we could no longer breathe. We were filled with happiness and a sense of completeness fell between us.

We were a family.

The nine months were a bit strenuous, although I couldn't wait to see my darling little baby. We didn't want to know the sex until the baby was born. I thought it would be more fun that way.

I was getting close to my due date and I grew excited every second. I was going to be a mother! A mommy! It was too good to be true.

I went to the bank to draw out some money. I still wasn't quite finished with the baby's nursery. My husband was urging me to spare no expense for our firstborn, but I didn't want to spend too much. I needed some extra cash to buy this adorable painting that I thought would be perfect to put over the crib. It was of the ocean, the waves gently touching the sand and the sun beaming brightly. And hand-in-hand was a mother with her child as they looked on.

When I first saw it, it brought tears to my eyes. I wanted to show my child the ocean, just like the mother did in the painting. I wanted to show my child everything beautiful that the world has to offer.

It was this mindset that brought a grin to my lips as I laid my hand on my round, heavy belly, stroking softly.

Then I heard a crash and yelling. I turned, immediately alarmed with both of my hands protecting my baby, and blacked out.

What followed after, I remember in spurts.

There was heat coming from my chest and the pain was excruciating. I called out my husband's name just as this unusual wetness was felt between my legs.

Next, I could hear sirens and the anxiousness of voices surrounding me. Then this bright white light blinded me as I regained consciousness, but I was so incredibly weak. I couldn't even speak. My throat closed up.

I heard wailing, and my husband's face materialized before me. Anguished filled his countenance and I wanted to reach out and comfort him. I smiled; all of my feelings were in that smile as I tried to convey the love and happiness he has given me. I wanted to tell him I loved him and that I heard our child's cry, but the weakness overtook me.

When I awoke, the pain and weakness was gone. Instead, I was filled with peace.

I felt stronger. More so than ever.

I wanted to find my husband. I wanted to see my baby.

But I couldn't find them.

I was in the hospital. Frowning, I searched for a doctor and a nurse but no one would answer me. They wouldn't even look at me. Now, I knew I wasn't the most attractive person in the world, but I knew I wasn't that terrible looking. Yet, no one would look. No one listened.

I eventually found him on my own. And our daughter.

We had a daughter. She was this perfect little angel. I gazed at her lovingly as she slept in her crib, my finger tracing her little chin.

I watched her all night long. I wasn't even tired by the time it was dawn.

My husband came into the room. His face was weary, his eyes puffy from countless hours of weeping. I asked him what was wrong, but he didn't look my way.

As if… as if he didn't hear me.

He stared over our daughter, tears brimming within his brown eyes. His body trembled as he bit back a sob.

Helplessly, I watched as my husband cried before our daughter who was blissfully unaware of her father's sorrow.

Then it hit me.

I began to cry, but like my husband, there was no one there to comfort me.

It took time but the days became easier for him. He didn't cry everyday like he used to, but often times at night he would reflect on something that occurred during the day that would remind him of me and he would cry silently.

Seeing him so broke my heart. I wanted to embrace him, whisper to him that everything was all right. But I could not. I knew what I was. However, I remained to watch him and our daughter.

Years past. Our daughter was turning four and seeing her grow was a dream come true. Every day I could see a little bit of me in her. In fact, she inherited most of my genes, but she had my husband's eyes. Even the tiny specks of gold that would flicker when provoked with emotion.

My husband had aged. He still had his young looks, but the years of sadness took their toll on him. It made him looked older, well beyond his real age, and it upset me greatly. He hardly left the house, only when it was necessary. He loved our daughter, but seeing me in her only served to remind him he was cheated out of spending the rest of his life with me.

I could not bear it. I knew what I had to do.

As he slept, I bent down so my lips would be near to his ear. Closing my eyes, I told him everything. I told him that I was in a good place. I told him I watched our little girl grow from an infant to a toddler. I told him how much I loved her and that great things will happen for her. Then I told him how much I loved him, my soul-mate. I told him I would always love him and that he had made me the happiest woman in the world. I couldn't have asked for more.

He opened those bright eyes of his and looked right at me. He whispered my name as his hand reached for me.

I was always denied to feel anything, but I was able to feel the warmth of his flesh pressed against my chilled skin. For a moment, I felt as if I was alive again.

I climbed into bed with him and in that instant I was me once more. We kissed each other desperately, our hands pulling and tugging our clothes off, the need to feel our skin near each other engulfed us. We wept, we held one another, we were one.

"Don't leave me," he pleaded, his voice full of emotion. "Please don't go."

Oh, how I wanted to obey. But I had to go.

I gave him one last kiss. "Know that I am never far from you. And I will wait for you. Good-bye my love."

It killed me to leave him, but I could no longer stay. My time had come.

Many years went by after that night. Sometimes I was allowed to come down and be amongst my family. Every time I did, my husband would whisper my name and say, "I love you". He always seemed to know my presence and knew where to look exactly at me.

Our daughter had grown into a beautiful, intelligent woman. She graduated from high school and college with honors. She loved writing and it wasn't long before she made a career out of it. Every book was a bestseller and she had four of her novels turned into movies, which she wrote the screenplays for each.

She married an actor and they had three children.

My husband moved in with them. He suffered from a couple heart attacks, one so massive that it nearly killed him. Our daughter demanded he should live with her after that.

They had a house that overlooked the ocean. I loved standing in the sand, letting the water come to my feet. I looked behind me and saw my husband gazing at me, but not seeing me. He still could sense me after all these years. Off to the side, my daughter was playing with her children.

They stopped their game—my daughter holding her oldest daughter's hand as she pointed to the setting sun. I walked over to them, my hand slipping into my daughter's. She could not feel it but I caught her smiling.

Then I felt another hand intertwined with my free one. Surprised, I looked up and my husband smiled at me.

"We are finally together now," he said. "My love, my soul-mate."

The End