She waited for him, once again, imagining what it would be like if the same situation arose and they were together.
She could just imagine herself cowering, afraid of how he could hurt her, but loving him for how he could make her happy.
His strength had never been what intimidated her, it was the power of his words. Everything he spoke, typed, or otherwise expressed, felt, to her, as if it were written on her heart.
He never really understood why she would sometimes burst into tears when talking to him, he rarely realized what it was he had said that would tear her to pieces. What she could never quite express was that it was not what he had said, but the phrasing via which he had said it.
Then, of course, he’d always respond that she wasn’t really listening to what he said.
But that wasn’t it at all, she often knew his words better than he knew them. Perhaps the problem was that she listened to him too well?