She was a fool.
She knew it. As much as it pained her to admit, she knew it all too well.
After all, she didn't need a man. Unless he was perfect, he'd only drag her down. And he was the farthest thing from perfection there was. Just moments after she'd met him, she could have easily composed a comprehensive list outlining his many faults. And yet... now, she wasn't sure he was quite so bad. Traits that had seemed so deplorable upon their first meting were not completely despicable. In fact, they were almost.. endearing. His goofy attitude, the ridiculous grin he got when he thought he was being clever, and the utterly foolish drawings of her...
She picked up the book which had been lying on her table. It was a small, paperboard book, intended for children. Opening it up, she laughed in her head, musing that only a child could possibly be impressed by such shoddy artwork. And the storyline was just as crude. But a strange, pleasant feeling overtook her as she studied the drawings depicting herself. She was tremendously flattered by the efforts he'd gone to in order to replicate her image. A smile found its way onto her mouth.
What was it that he called her? Franzy? Foolishness; she hadn't forgotten. She knew that it was right there in the book's title (ignoring the part of her mind that wondered if she mightn't have remembered anyway). It was a foolish nickname, thought of by a foolish man. But it had its effect on her. Her heart inexplicably skipped a beat whenever she heard his voice utter it. She had tried many times to assure herself that it was repulsion, but as time passed, she found it more difficult to believe that.
She turned the back of the book, which featured a small blurb about the author. She gently stroked the included photo, letting out a sigh. Did he care for her? I hope not, said a part of her. But she wondered. After all, no one had ever endured her whip so willingly and happily as he. And he'd even written a book about her. But it was foolish to think that meant that she was anything special to him. In the time that she'd known him, she'd seen him fall for any and every woman he met. Yes, he'd confessed his supposed love to her often enough. But then, he also claimed to be smitten with Phoenix Wright's assistant, did he not? As well as all those others she'd seen filter through his life... a trickle of disappointment flitted through her mind as she thought of this, but she quickly shooed the emotion away.
She stood abruptly. She didn't have time for such foolishness. She was a von Karma, and that demanded perfection, with no room for silly fantasies about stupid men. Perhaps someday she might be with one long enough to have a child to carry on her family's name, but this was not the time, and he was not the man. Or so she convinced herself as she tossed the book back onto the table, not daring to glance at it, for fear that the moisture lingering in her eyes would become pronounced enough that she'd have to recognize its presence.
She was a fool.