I didn't like how Nancy and Edward were conveniently "taken care of" at the end, especially Nancy. This should to some degree remedy that. r/r


Nancy POV

A year has passed since I last saw New York. I can still see Times Square in my mind's eye, the bustling of cars and the tumult of people on the sidewalks, the streets, the subways. I can still see the torrent of rain, the piano, the microphone, the elevator, the small band, the wooden floor. I can still see the clock, the dragon, the sparkle of death, the shoe. I can still see the broken look in her gaze, the stiffness of his arms and chest, the not-smile on his face.

I still see the way he kissed her, held her as they danced, how gently and lovingly he had touched her face, the serenity and intensity in his eyes when he looked at her.

He had sung in her ear, held her like she was what he lived for, had taken her in selflessly, had protected her like a perfect prince charming when Narissa the dragon threatened her life. Romance and chivalry to its fullest.

Honestly, it was absolutely ridiculous. I'd known him for five whole years and he left me for a girl, not even a woman, whom he had known for a few days, screw how attractive she may have been. When I followed that pretty boy, Edward, into Andalasia—and I have no idea what that girl saw in him before she met Robert, past that chivalrous romantic facade—it was with the thought: "what have I got to lose?"

Everything.


I stare down the well for the millionth time. It'd be easy to just plummet down that hole and go back to New York. I'm sure I wouldn't be able to get back my job after disappearing for a year, but at least I'd know what to do if I did go back. I wouldn't fall over some guy that took me in by chance.

By chance. Really. Of all the people who saw her first, it had to be Robert. Pretty much any other guy in New York would've taken advantage of her idiocy and naïveté. She had popped out of a fairy tale—what else could Andalasia be?—and had wrapped New York into that fairy tale. How else would she have met my boyfriend of five years, and how else would he have fallen for her so quickly (And what about that dragon…)? I know the spark in our relationship had pretty much died out, but to this extent? I could've sworn he was getting ready to propose to me. Why else would he want me to spend more time with Morgan? I shouldn't have overreacted to that Giselle-only-in-towel-on-top-of-Robert incident. That would've changed a few things. Or maybe I should have refused to go to that ball—he had seemed a bit reluctant about it anyway.

God. All this irony, all these flukes, all these—Ugh!

Hm. Speaking of the spark going out of a relationship, Edward and mine ended about a week after our wedding. He didn't quite seem to understand what consummation was—a facet of fairy tales strikes again! I would've thought that fairy tales would have great sex rather than none, or maybe he was just an exception—after all, he never spent much time with girls, as his stupid mother didn't allow them to go near him. What kind of luck is that? If I didn't know any better I would say I was born under an unlucky star.

The darkness begins to look more and more appealing by the minute. I still keep track of our little anniversaries: it would've been six years, eight months, four days today. Only a year and a day ago, he left me for Giselle. Tomorrow would be another day to add to that. 363 after that will be two years.

A year of an unsuccessful relationship can't really compare with five years with someone I really thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with.

I could've sworn he really loved me.

Did I just think that? What have I become, to believe in true love?

The answer comes to me right before I close my eyes and fall.