Pronouns: 2

And then he stopped. Stopped mid-sentence. Something had hit him; he had no idea what. Or maybe he did.

These were recent occurences.
He felt for her. An unhappy childhood isnt easy. Being alone for years isnt easy. The ability to count your friends on the fingers of a hand isnt one to be proud of. They hated her. All of them.

He felt for her. He could do anything for her smile. He had done so for months. He thought he could go on forever. He was wrong.

Today when she shouted at him, he saw his patience run out. He had given up his all. He had nothing to speak of. He was spent. He was weary. He was tired. He was angry.

He realised that expectation was a monster in hiding. But he hadn't expected much, had he?

He had expressed extreme concern. He had been caring. He loved her. Almost.
He never asked for a reciprocative show of emotions. All he asked for was some respect. Some sensibility. Some sensitivity.

Sadly, she never felt that he deserved any of it.
He was nothing to him. She thought he was smitten. She felt he enjoyed her company. She never realised that it was he who made her time worthwhile. It was he who completed her.
Yes, realisation is rare.

He had loved and failed. But that never hurt him as much as this did.

He had lived for her and her alone. Her whims were his commands. He just wanted her happy. He could die for that smile.
He wasnt in love he said. He was wrong again.

She found him great. She found him fun. She found him soft. She found him easy. She never found what lay underneath those smiles, those blank eyes, that crazy exterior. She never cared to look for what was to be looked. She was wrong.

And then he stopped. Stopped mid-sentence. He knew what had hit him. He saw the nonchalance in her eyes. He saw carelessness. He felt disgusted. He felt hurt. He felt like slapping her. And he would have. But he was right and she was wrong. He would never let that change. He walked away. Never looked back.

She never heard from him again.