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54 Amit Bobrov
“I fink I love you,” was my simple reply. “And I know I should
not,” I added bitterly. As these words were finally spoken out

in the open, I felt as if a great burden has been lifted off my
shoulders. I was surprised at myself; I did not realize I cared for
her in any positive way until I confessed it, both to myself and
to her.
She blinked twice, perhaps stunned by my answer, and I
lowered my face, feeling ashamed of myself. With one finger
she touched my chin and lifted my face so that my brown eyes
could look into the blue of hers. My heart raced ever so fast,
and I felt like a mouse trying to escape a hungry cat.

She looked intently into my eyes for a few moments, and then,
after making some sort of silent decision, she closed her eyes.
She moved her face so close to mine that I could hear and feel
her breath. I closed my eyes then, and felt her lips touch mine.
It was as if a feather had touched me, so light a touch that I was
uncertain as to whether or not she had touched me at all. Her
lips were chilly and soft, a wonderful, tender sensation such

as I had never felt before. It was as if for a moment we both
ascended to the heavens, so light we were.
Her right hand, which before had held my chin, now caressed
my cheek, and somehow my right hand mirrored her own and
caressed hers in return. Her fingers felt so soft as they touched
my skin, and her cheek was likewise so smooth and delicate,
that I took enormous pleasure in her touch. The world spun and
faded away, all wrongs were made right, and I felt a moment of
almost perfect happiness. The bitter notion that I had betrayed

Ivar’s trust stung my heart, yet my mind quickly sought ways in
which to set things right with him — perhaps there would be a
way for him to accept and endorse our love.
Ingrid then moved her head back, opening her eyes, and I did