Hot summer nights seemed to be the best for moments like these, she realized, walking through the trimmed grass that was damp with evening dew. Her feet carried her on a path that she didn't feel like defining, and instead let her body push her towards the water, looming dark and mysterious ahead of her. She could smell the scent of the lake that the wind was bringing with it, and the same breeze toyed with her short hair, and whispered over her hot skin.
She could hear the waves pulsing gently against the shore as she got closer, their rhythm not unlike that of her steadily beating heart. That heart that used to be whole, and she could have offered it to anyone, but she had no choice in the matter. She'd never told him that her heart was his, and she was thinking that she regretted that decision. To her, he was everything and nothing.
He wasn't hers, and she felt herself tear up as she remembered this sad thought. She wasn't going to cry, today, though. This night was about her, and what she wanted to do in life. Not what her heart did. The texture beneath her feet changed gradually from soft grass to the fine pebbles of a lakeshore, and soon the warm water lapped against her toes. She grasped the edges of the soft white garment she wore, and pushed her feet deeper into the moist ground.
Breathing in deeply, she realized that the scent had changed. A musk was lacing the air, but not her own. It was sinister and masculine, not close enough for her to define. Her eyes closed and she concentrated on it, and heard the change in nature. The nightingales had stopped their singing, and the small stones behind her crunched and ground together softly as another human's feet tread carefully.
She had to smile, for she knew it was he. She didn't think about the fact that she had no idea how he knew she was coming here this night, but was only grateful for the fact that he was there in the first place. He hadn't broken her heart, but as his arms slipped around her waist, she felt the vise around it loosen, and melt away completely.
Her hands dropped her dress, and she noticed as the slight tug of the water pulled at the fabric. She turned to face him, burying her head into his chest, where the scent she had familiarized was heaven. She didn't cry, she merely stood and let him hold her. She then lifted her head, and stared into the eyes that held her pain and her anguish at loving someone that wasn't hers. His head bent slowly to match her lips with his, and she knew it was the beginning of something more infinitely beautiful that anything she could have wanted.