His Reason To Breathe

He hated that she always knew exactly what to do to ruin his day. It was like second nature to her. One simple comment, one single look and he was done for. No one else he'd met had ever possessed so much knowledge or power over him.

He hated that she enjoyed his discomfort in such situations and that she always seemed to find that little extra thing to drive him that much closer to insanity.

He hated it when she refused to listen to him. Right from day one, she had chosen to go her own way over his and sometimes he wondered how it was possible for her to be so smart when all she seemed to do was block anything that she didn't want to hear. It annoyed him to no end when she pushed his advice and suggestions away and took someone else's instead.

Most of all, he hated the way that she twisted his gut into butterflies every time she entered the room and he hated the effect her voice had on him – even when she was spouting on about who-knows-what and especially when she argued with him.

He hated that she was his undoing.

She was his reason to live; she was his reason to breathe.

He couldn't explain any of it, but it was all true.