She hated him. She loathed him. She abhorred him. She resented him. She regarded him with abomination. He was the anathema of her existence. And she looked up those words in a thesaurus just for some more creative ways to describe her hatred for him.

His feelings for her were far from hatred though, and it was no secret.

It wasn't mutual hatred.

He loved her.

She remembered when he told her how he loved the way her long, golden curls would fall down her back in such an elegant and graceful manner. He said it made her look like a goddess.

She chopped off her waist-length hair that night. The tips of her hair barely touch her shoulder now.

She wore her newly bought black skirt to school one day. It was a cute little skirt, and she was really excited to wear it.

He said it looked lovely on her.

She never wore it again.

When her mother had passed away, she left behind a pair of gorgeous freshwater pearl earrings. She would wear them daily; just like her mother used to.

One day he told her the earrings were gorgeous; just like her.

The earrings are now sitting in the corner of her drawer.

.

.

Later, as she sat next to his limp, lifeless body on the hospital bed, she remembered his last words to her--the words embedded in her mind forever.

"That bracelet shines as brightly as your eyes," he had told her with a smile, fully aware that the comment he made was cheesy and unoriginal. It was the smile that she had gotten so used to over the years; the special smile he reserved just for her.

She never took the bracelet off.