Charles Ross considered himself a very lucky man. He had a great job where he was quickly climbing up the career ladder, a beautiful and loving wife and children who loved him, and all of the other comforts that would make a person's life seemingly perfect. Like all people though, he had his regrets. From the common, such as not having more time with a person who passed or getting that ride from that friend who had a car. Then there was the more specific, like time his mother wanted him to go to that party a friend of his was having.

His biggest regret of them all though is Angela Morris. Her bright smile, her loud and healthy laughter, her chilling, dark brown eyes, her smooth brown skin, and every other detail that he recalls, appears in his mind when he's doing his day to day things. She just shows up like a ghost or apparition. Her sweet voice moves itself into his inner ear whenever he feels angry enough to spit blood, he feels like crying, or any other human emotion. It sounded similar to harps playing, or as smooth as honey. Then the bad memories replay over in his mind, temporarily sending a black cloud over the good. How she looked him with those eyes of hers as the tears streamed down her face and fell onto her hands still rang clear in his mind. Her image haunted him when he tried to sleep; he would just see her there, sitting in that chair.  His heart twisted and churned in his chest. That look on her face was the worst thing he has ever been subjected to see in all of his years of living. He couldn't recognize what he felt now, or even then. Was it pain of loss? He was obviously hurting because he hurt the person he loved. It just felt deeper than that. It felt like much more. As if part of him was slowly being ripped apart and was dying. He knew what if felt like to break a heart and have one broken, but her eyes, just her look, hurt him in a way nothing physical ever could. Her dark, solemn eyes stared directly at him, her mouth was a still line, and she just sat there and kept her gaze on him as he walked away. She didn't clutch onto him, begging him to stay. She didn't even follow him around after he left, asking him to come back. She just let him go as he was never there it seemed. Sometimes he wondered if she even cared at all.

                       "We can't be together," he said while his gaze went down to the floor.  He noticed the white carpet, and the light brown rug she had in the center of her floor. He could see the edge of her bare feet. Her toe nails were painted a very light and barely noticeable pink.  This is the right thing; you're doing the right thing, he reminded himself constantly.

She eased down carefully in the chair behind her. The wide, brilliant smile that gave him goose bumps on the back of his neck disappeared from her face. Her mouth tightened, and went as straight as an arrow. She then opened her mouth then closed it again, and chose to suck in her bottom lip. She sighed quickly as an obvious an attempt to stop herself from crying.

                       "Could you tell me why?" she asked, looking at him.

He kept his gaze downward. He wouldn't be able to face her. He couldn't look at her.

                      "My family thinks it's best if we don't-"he started, his own dark brown eyes having a staring at the floor beneath him. Don't look at her, just don't look at her, he thought.

                   "So, you listen to your family now?" Her tone was sarcastic. Her eyebrow arched as she expected an answer.

                 "I'm just doing what's easiest for yo-"

               "Are you sure you don't mean for you?" she asked. "Look at me!" she demanded

He was silent. His gaze went into her own.

"Is this what you want?" Her tone was cold despite her crying.

               "Yes." He swallowed the small lump that he felt form in his throat. Tears ran down her cheeks and dripped onto her hands. This is a mistake, do something, stop yourself, he thought. Stop, he begged himself.

           "I kind of should've known this would happen." More tears fell down her face, and she started sobbing, no longer trying to control the sound.

He could hear the pain and hurt in her voice, and her tears only made it worse. Stop yourself, he thought.  

         "Well, go on, they're waiting for you." She gestured toward the door. "I'm sure whoever she is she'll love your money so much."

He walked out onto her porch, and closed the door softly. The light above him was dim, and seemed as though it wanted to go out.  He placed his ear against the cold and wooden door. He could still hear her sobs and cries through the door; it broke his heart. He felt it twist and crumble inside of him. He leaned against the door for support, and rested his forehead against. Tears started to come from his eyes as well. He wanted to back in there, but part of him, the money-hungry and power-crazed part, wouldn't allow his feet or any other part of his body move in that direction. That part of him had an eye on his large inheritance, and it was hard to ignore. He turned walked toward his car. It was done and over.

What gave him the most solace is that he technically freed her. They freed each other really. He let her go to fly off into the world, and find someone who could love her the right way. She would be able to find someone who wasn't already trapped and sinking into the ground like he was. He did her a favor. He was drowning slowly, and as the years passed on he was sinking further and further into that abyss. He let her go to fly her pretty wings, those beautiful, gorgeous, pretty wings of hers. He remembered how she told him how she dreamed of being a butterfly or a fairy, and that's how he saw her in the dreams he had. She floated above the water, her longer slender arms caressing it carelessly as she flew. She moved through clouds with her arms outward. Her eyes were often closed, and her long often held in some sort of gold barrette his mind dreamed up.        

He often found himself wondering how she was doing in life. Did she find the real man of her dreams, or at least, the man he thought should love her? Did she have any children? Did she still think about him, or more importantly them? Did she have any regrets like him? All of these questions and one thousand moved through his mind. He could easily pull a few strings, and drop by wherever she lived to see her. It just led to more questions for him. What would he say? What would she say? Would she even open her door? Does she care about him at all?

He bit his thumb as he looked at the city through the large window of his office. Was she even still in the city? Had she moved on completely, and decided to go to a new city? There was a light knock on the door. "Come in," he spoke in a distracted tone, still lost in his thoughts. He didn't know who it was. He didn't care truthfully. He thought about meeting her in another time, in another place. There they'd be together, and have a family. They do all of the things he didn't do as a kid like barbeques, picnics, and everything of the like.

"Hey sweetheart, I brought you something." A blonde haired woman came and kissed him lightly on the cheek before she placed a bag on his desk. Her red lipstick left a slight mark on his cheek.

                                                    "You didn't have to do that. I could've gotten something."

                                "But I wanted to." She smiled at him. "So, why are you just staring out of the window?"

                             "Just thinking, that's all." He gave a smile. Don't get him wrong, his wife was quite loving. He considered himself lucky that she actually loved him and not just his money. Granted, she probably liked it, and had grown accustomed to the life she made for herself and their children. Her love though as infinite as it was, wasn't like the love he previously had. He leaned down and kissed his wife.

He'd still think about Angela, whether he wanted to or not. He knew though that deep down if he had do it again, he'd make the same decision. He did the right thing. As much as it hurts him he set her free. Free to fly her pretty wings. Those beautiful, gorgeous, pretty wings and let her being able to find someone to fly with her.  

~*~

Carol Ross wasn't stupid; she knew more about her husband's secretive past than she was willing to let on. She touched her husband's cheek lovingly; her French tip slightly grazed him. She could a feel a slight amount of stubble. She knew when he thought about her. That evil woman. It was whenever he looked out of a window for longer than a moment or dazed. He just can't seem to understand his parents did him a favor saving him from that girl. She knows they didn't marry for love, far from it. They married for money and power, the two things that made the people of their high society. The two things that girl never had, and probably never will.  She placed her smooth, manicured hand on his wooden desk not too far from where the bag was still sitting untouched. "Well, I wanted to make sure you ate something." She flashed him a smile. Her ruby red lipstick contrasted with her pearly white teeth.

                  "I'll eat in a minute," he replied, returning to face the window.

                                               "Please eat something; I got your favorite," she said, shaking the bag near his ear. By the word "favorite", she really meant a salad from that restaurant her and her friends often go to for lunch and mingling.

                                                 "I don't feel like eating."

She pouted her thin, red lips and wrinkled her pale nose.

                                                  "Please eat something," she whined, "for me." She looked at him with her big blue eyes. Despite her marrying him for all of the wrong reasons at first, she eventually fell in love with him. She learned to love him. That was one of the main reasons she was quite happy giving him the four wonderful children they had rather the normal amount of two her friends and family did. She hugged him from behind tightly. When is going to understand that she's gone now? Her rings made a slight clicking sound against the buttons of his suit jacket.  She understood that he hurt, but it was all for the greater good. Didn't he see it? Her zebra print hat touched the very back of his head. It wasn't as though he was going to see her again; she had left a long time ago. She moved to some part of the middle of the United States. Her mother told her the very day she left, which just so happened to be the day they were married. She would've said something, but she didn't actually think they were in actual love. She just considered it his way of rebelling against his parents. "I love you," she whispered in his ear.

He was silent.

"Didn't you hear me? I said ‘I love you'." She looked at him expectantly.

                       "Yes dear, I love you too," he answered. He then turned around and held her.

She rested her head against his chest. This is what made her realize that she was better than Angela Morris. While that woman may have a piece of his heart she actually had him. That is something she will never have.     

~*~

Charles Ross was happy. Even though, he may not have the love of his life in his arms right now. He protected her from so much he felt. He smiled. With that thought alone he could die a happy man.  He owed his parents one thing, at least. They helped him to let her go. To let her fly her wonderful, beautiful, agile, loving, pretty wings around.