He stares at you, a look of disbelief evident on his face. "What?"

You take in a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. "I'm a witch."

Vaguely, you hear an ice cream truck rumble down the street and children's shouts of glee as they race after the vehicle.

Taking deep breaths isn't doing a great job of helping you relax.

"I've been meaning to tell you, but I kept putting it off. I can't give you an answer without you knowing about this first."

You give him a pleading look. He lifts himself off his knee and pockets the velvet black box. Tears spring into your eyes. Guess that wasn't a lasting offer, you think bitterly. So much for love always finding a way.

He looks at you, an uncertain grin on his face. He asks, "Are you all right? I think you've been spending too much time at work. Ask for a week off."

You frown. "I'm fine. Listen to me carefully. I am a wi–"

He laughs, a loud and unnatural bark. "A witch. See? I was listening." He moves to you and grabs your hand tightly, herding you towards the couch. "How about I call in for you?"

You wrench away from him, rubbing your wrist. "I'm not sick! Theodore's my familiar." A fat brown cat meows, twitching his tail lazily. " I got him my second year at that boarding school I told you about – Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts? What kind of name is that?"

"The name of a school that teaches kids magic for seven years. I even played a sport. Quidditch. I wasn't the best player on my team, but I guess I was the best of the kids who tried out." You look into his deep brown that usually sparkles – only they weren't twinkling now. You bite your bottom lip.

"The joke's over," he whispers furiously, hands clenching into fists. For a second, you're afraid he is going to punch you. "If you don't want to marry me, just say so!"

You stare at him. "You just asked so suddenly and I wasn't prepared... But I do want to marry you!"

"Well, you're not showing it with all this witch crap!"

A strong wave of anger and frustration bursts through your veins as the two of you stare at each other. Suddenly, inspiration hits. "I need my wand."

"Your what?" he asks as you run out of the room and towards your bedroom. He follows at a slower pace, calling out, "I thought witches used brooms, not wands."

"They do," you say, throwing clothes across the room, frantically trying to find the piece of wood has assisted you for many years. "Found it!"

He crosses his arms and leans against the wall. "Since you're so adamant about this, show me a magic trick." He tilts his head, lips set in a grim, straight line. "Go on. Abracadabra, Open Sesame! Sim Sala Bim, Alakazam! Shazam, Hocus Pocus! Pull a bunny out of a hat. Presto! "

Theodore waddles past him and flops down on your bed, purring loudly. You point your wand to a pillow. "Wingardium Leviosa." Slowly, the pillow lifts and hovers in the air. "Accio, pillow." The object flies into your waiting hand. Take a deep breath and turn to him. "I'm a witch."

He looks at you, Theodore, the pillow, wand, and then back at you. You can see the fear and suspicion written on his face, although he tries to hide it. Your heart breaks in half.

"Oh god." You walk towards him and he backs away hastily, bumping into a table stand and curses. You move again and he yells frantically. "Stay away from me!" Theodore stops purring and stands, hissing, his fur standing upright. "I need to get out of here," the man mutters and runs out of the room, his footsteps clumsy as he rushes away. The halves of your heart splinter. You slide to the floor and Theodore jumps into your lap, cuddling in an effort to comfort you. You listen sadly as the front door bangs shut. A car rumbles to life and drives away.

The situation suddenly seems so funny and it's impossible to retain the swelling of ironic amusement growing deep inside your belly.

So you laugh.

And laugh and laugh.

You laugh until you cannot laugh anymore and the tears that surge down your cheeks have nothing to do with mirth.

You try to get over him.

You visit your mother and she strokes your hair and says "Forgive and forget."

You forgive, but it is just too hard to forget.

Your grandfather becomes indignant when you tell him and ask for his advice. "You deserve better than that. Why, when I was your age..."

Quickly, you give an excuse and hurry away. When Grandfather goes back to the good ol' days, it means it's time to leave. Otherwise I'll hear his life history from the moment he was born to the very second I entered the room today, you think, Apparating.

Your friends visit, bearing movies and junk food. "We'll have a girl's night," they cry, hugging you. "Don't think about him," they say, "I know this great guy who will absolutely adore you!"

You smile at your friends, but when they leave, your heart is heavy and you want to cry again.

Not wanting to mope around cleaning, you head outside and walk to the nearby play area where two dark haired children, siblings, chase each other, shrieking happily.

"Tag! You're it," the boy shouts.

"I am not, banana breath," the younger girl replies. "You hardly touched me!"

"Who are you calling banana breath, monkey face?"

A soft chuckle by your ear and your body stiffens. What's he doing here?

"Kids can be so funny." You turn, heart thumping wildly, and stare. He is sitting right next to you, watching as the boy stomps away from his sister to play on the swings and the girl marches away to play on the vacant slide.

"What are you doing here?" you whisper and cringe slightly. You want to show him that you can get through life without him. Prove that you're strong and your happiness does not rely on him being by your side. You want to speak in a crisp, debonair voice, but instead the first thing that comes out of your mouth is said in a whisper. You hate yourself for that. After all, he left you. Ran away from you. Why should you be the one whose throat constricts?

He looks at you and says simply, "I can't live without you."

You don't say anything. The little girl goes down the slide and ends up skinning her knee. She breaks into tears. Her brother notices, but keeps on swinging, pumping his legs, going higher and higher into the air.

"I figured it out a few days after I left your flat," he informs you." I came back to talk to you today, and saw you walking to the park...I still love you."

The girl's wails increase, but the boy continues to swing, albeit more slowly than before.

Your attention turns back to the man next to you. For a brief second, you want to think about saying no and turning your back on him forever. You ponder about hurting him the way he hurt you a few weeks ago.

The girl stops crying and only sniffles, her little head bent over her knee. The boy, motionless on the swing, jumps off and runs over to his little sister. He kneels on the ground and whispers something to her. She gives a ragged giggle and throws her skinny arms around the boy. He looks surprised, but nevertheless, wraps his own arms around her; briefly glancing around first to make sure none of his friends are nearby. They aren't, so he hugs her a bit tighter and the two stand up and walk to the swings.

Next to you, he shifts and you turn to look at him. There is pain and regret in his eyes. "Please forgive me."

The girl sits on the swing, and although you can't hear what she's saying, you figure that she's begging the boy to push her. Sighing as if his sister was wasting precious moments of his time, the boy obliges.

You smile and hug the man. "I love you, too." He breaks into a relieved grin and hugs you fiercely.

At the swings, the boy beaming broadly, pushes hard and the girl flies soaring into the air.