When you thought about them, as a couple, you had to say that he was crazy about her. It was a passionate kind of love, the kind that made him grin and ruffle her hair, the kind that had him boasting to all his friends about how great, about how absolutely fucking fantastic, his girlfriend was.
But she loved him in a quieter way, in a way that cried herself to sleep the night he left, in a way that lost ten pounds when he was gone, in a way that always gave her smile a twinge of sadness in his absence. Softly and gently, she bloomed in his presence, as if his brightness was the only thing that gave her light. Her sweet smiles were sweeter, her shining eyes shined more brilliantly. She seemed less helpless and more hopeful, but only if you were watching.
In the fact of the matter she loved him more, and to my jealousy, that made all the difference.
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