He knows he waited for her, and he would do it again if she asked him to.
If the outcome is her lying in his arms, giving her heart, finally open.
He knows loving her is its own language, one he still mastered.
One that was lost until she dug herself out and forced him to learn it all over again.
He would never forget how to love her.
She knows the time she wasted being foolish, being unchained yet lost at sea.
Fighting against the current after so many years following it,
till her anchor snapped, pushed to the blue.
So she lost herself to the glimmer of corals and pearls,
the memory of warm, solid land distant in her clouded judgment.
But then he came back, fetched her across time, and brought her home.
She remembers herself, suddenly.
She remembers what makes her passionate, what makes her think.
He brought her. He loved her back to life.
She knows he waited for her, and she wishes she could take all that pain and throw it overboard.
If she could pour out her soul to stand a chance against his love, she would.
But in the meantime, she remembers too how it felt being loved by him.
She would never forget how he loved her.
How he loves her now, after all this time.
Only now, sheโs holding a mirror, reflecting back.