Your friends told you you’ve changed for Rafe.

You denied it for a while. But with time, you couldn’t continue defending the nature of your relationship. You’d paint your nails black, having said before you didn’t like dark colours, and your hair was now a darker shade of brown.

It was all for him. You knew how he liked his woman, and you changed yourself to fit that description. Spanish, dark, strong and proud.

He was so sad, in a beautiful way. It was what drew you to him in the first place. The way a certain melancholy seemed to linger in his features, and you were sure if you were to see the world from his eyes, it would be nighttime all the day, to suit the mood of his soul.

At first, you tried to fix it, tried to show him that despite the fact he didn’t believe in it, life didn’t have to be so melancholic and sad.

Life was beautiful, but he didn’t have a clue.

His arm wrapped around your waist, your head resting on his shoulder, you sat on the beach during sunset. You glanced up at him and he looked down at you.

Again, you could see his lips curl down subtly in that sad almost pout that he did, and his ocean blue eyes held that tragic, pained expression.