Chapter 1 : Unexplainable, Indescribable
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Inexplicably in Love
There weren’t any words he knew of to describe what he felt for his wife, even in the six other languages he had studied and the additional one he’d made up. There weren’t any symbols he could string together to describe in simple formulas or complicated equations what made her fit together with him. If someone had asked him—and there had been people in the beginning who had—to communicate why he had these feelings, he would have found himself stumped.
He had found himself mystified once by the riddle of them. He’d made an attempt to figure it out, only one, and never did he truly try again. She had found him some time later, crumpled attempts of pathetic prose piled high next to him, used nubs of pencils scattered amongst the mugs of coffee when tea had failed to stir his senses.
She’d simply laughed and kissed him on his unshaven cheek and his long nose. She’d then run her small hand through his dark curls before waving her wand and whisking the mess away. She told him that she knew he loved her and why, and to hell with others trying to define them. She’d already spent most of her life living outside the box that most found themselves in. What was the point in trying to make him or her fit now?
But he did find himself trying to describe her—him—them sometimes.
She was the air he breathed, the sun whose warmth he basked in. From her hair as silver as the celestial body she was named after to her unique mind always willing to explore possibilities and see what most wouldn’t see; she was beautiful through and through.
When she cried he was there to wipe her tears, to bring a smile back to her face. When she laughed it was his arms that caught her and spun her around in delight, reveling in how her light frame fit against him. He was the man who stood at the end of the aisle as she walked towards him, dressed not in the traditional white, but in a bright cheerful yellow. He made her tingle and ache with his hands and lips.
When she was be with their children, running through the sprinklers of their front yard in search of mischievous Wrackspurts and shy Fizufians, he’d put down the latest text on magizoology and watch them. His two little boys, their curly hair blond hair sparkling with drops of water. Their screams of delight rang in the air as their mother scooped them up, one in each arm. She’d kiss them until they wiggled out of her grasp. They’d run a small distance before they’d slow and look back at their mum, to make sure she was still there, still coming for them. Which she always was; she always would be.
Or there would be times when he’d find her in the pond, her skirts hiked up past her knees, her stockings and shoes thrown carelessly on the grass. She would be bent over the water’s surface, arms in the water, digging for a glittering rock that had caught her eye. He would sigh and take off his own boots, roll up his pants and wade in after her. She’d turn to greet him with a sweet smile, the tips of her hair wet because she’d forget to tie it up. And then her eyes would widen in surprise as he’d scoop her up with a growl, throwing water everywhere and over him, but not caring as he kissed her, tasted her and grinned against her lips.
He stocked up on these moments. Snapped a mental picture and filed it away in a spot of his mind that was filled with lightness and love. It was a spot that was spilling into other parts, the darker, unhappy ones—the spots she had already done so much to heal.
It had been at a naturalists’ convention when she’d found him. They’d bonded over a manticroc, a creature rumored to live off the western coast of South Africa during the fourth rotation of an adverse moon. He’d always believed they existed, even though there had only been one sighting in the last 120 years. He’d gone off about his theories and only after half an hour did he realize he was ranting. He’d been able to shut himself up then, expecting her to scoff at him. Instead, she’d agreed and offered her own conjectures and evidence to the existence of these creatures.
He’d looked at her then, into her wide blue eyes, and saw that they held an understanding he hadn’t expected. And in that long glance, a spark had danced between them. It was a spark that had ignited a blaze of emotion that both awed and blinded him with its magnificence.
But he never looked away, hadn’t been able to tear his gaze away from her since.
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