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How sure am I that I’m not just going back out of pity?
Do I really understand what I’m getting myself into, what it really means to be in a relationship with someone with HIV?
And is it really possible for a person to love another, despite not having the length and depth of time to validate such feelings?
She asked herself these questions again and again, but every single time, she could only remember this one line from the Bible that spoke of people whose relationships were so close…
The wife of thy bosom, or thy friend, which is as thine own soul…
It was as if their souls were one.
And every time this line went through her head, she just couldn’t stop thinking, ‘That’s us.’
Not just lust, not just love, but her soul rejoicing in finding its mate, the moment Matthijs de Graaf saved her from a wagon full of daisies.
And that was her answer, Diana realized with painfully bittersweet joy.
He was her answer, whether it was right or wrong, whether he thought either of them was ready, whether he liked it or not.
Their souls left them no choice, but when she thought of explaining this to him, Diana could only choke back a teary laugh, knowing that the concept of soulmates was unlikely to sit well with someone as determinedly methodical as the professor.
So calling him first and explaining her change of heart over the phone was definitely out, Diana decided as she came out of the airport. Instead, she needed a plan. Better yet, an accomplice (the more, the merrier), and an idea slowly took form in her mind.
Gears were eventually set in motion, and it was how that afternoon the professor came to expect an express package from Mrs. Montez.
With his entire staff out on some domestic staff union meeting, it was left to Matthijs to open the door when the doorbell rang. But instead of a courier service, he got a dark-haired whirlwind flying straight towards him.
Diana?
She slammed into him with such force he almost toppled backwards. He cursed under his breath, but she only laughed, all the while wrapping herself around his body, her arms looping over his shoulders and her legs encircling his waist.
The last time they had seen each other, it had been at the restaurant, and he had to tell her about his mistress of six years. The last time they spoke, he had to tell her about his illness.
After that – nothing.
No texts. No calls. And certainly no fucking visits. She had even missed his class this morning.
All he had been able to do was cling to dreams and memories, his life completely turned upside down by her coming and going. The real world no longer held any appeal, and Matthijs only went through the motions of living while his mind doggedly relived the past.
Because it was all he thought he had.
Until this.
His hands seemed to move involuntarily, and he could only watch rather than feel them shaking, his inability to believe that she was truly here making the whole thing seem like an illusion. He needed truth to be tangible just like Didymus, who despite being one of the Twelve, was also human, and with humanity came doubts that belied his faith.
Unless I see the nail marks in His hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into His side, I will not believe.
The professor’s fingers slowly drifted down her spine.
Flesh.
His other hand carefully, and then firmly and tightly, gripped the side of her waist.
Soft, supple, corporeal flesh.
Real.
Put your finger here; see My hands. Reach out your hand and put it into My side. Stop doubting and believe.
Because she was here.
Diana worked hard to keep the tears back as his golden eyes lifted to his, and in them she saw all the things that could break her heart.
Disbelief, because she was here.
Bleakness, because she was here.
But also hope, because she was here.
And it was all she could do not to bawl her eyes out and throw her arms around him.
I’m here, my love. I won’t ever leave you again. I’ll stay with you forever.
But because she knew it was too soon to say such words, she swallowed them all back and instead mustered up a watery smile for the professor. “Hey there.” The casual, playful (albeit slightly shaking) tone was meant to tease him into smiling back, but when the professor only stared at her, she reminded herself that it was just his way of protecting himself.
And so she tried again, continuing, “I, umm, just got back from Miami.”
Something flickered in his gaze, and she told herself this was a good sign.
“There were things I had to work out…”
The professor was doing his best not to read between the lines, but his brain was too damn stubborn for its own good. Things she had to work out, she said. Wasn’t just that polite fucking speak for ‘I was looking for a nice, clean excuse to end things?’
