Text Size Large SizeMedium SizeSmall Size    Color Scheme Black SchemeWhite SchemeGrey SchemePaper Scheme        

Being Her

A series of one-shots in Claire's perspective throughout the series For Her.

Um, will not go in any order. they come as i get bored enough to write them. PSSSTTT if you want a new story, go review with her!

21. Beloved Gift

Rating 4.5/5   Word Count 604   Review this Chapter

“Happy Birthday, sweetheart,” Quil said, grinning. This year it was just he and I celebrating. We’d had a party yesterday- he still wouldn’t let me thank him for that- or anything else, for that matter.

He just smiled and said ‘I’m glad it makes you happy.’

That’s really kind of frustrating, the way he does so incredibly much, and then won’t even let me say thank you.

I smiled back at him, though. “Love you, Quil.”

I regretted it immediately, as I so often did, with the great hope that jumped across his face. It wasn’t fair to say things like that, to get his hopes up. I knew, by now I’d figured it out, that Quil didn’t just love me.

Quil was in love with me.

At first, when I’d realized this, it was terrifying- I remember thoughts streaming across my mind.

But love wasn’t a bad thing. The world was different now. I lived in a universe where I could trust people, where just because he loved me, because he wanted me to love him too, didn’t mean he’d try to make me do so.

Because he would never hurt me. It was the truth my new life was based upon.

“Love you too. Hey, wanna open your presents now?”

His calm was really remarkable. I guessed he was a pretty good lawyer by now. It was a shame I couldn’t bring myself to tell him that I knew… but that would make him hope even more.

“Sure, Quil.”

He handed me a tiny box. It was wrapped in green paper, the color of the forest outside the window.

I pulled the paper off.

“Open it,” Quil said, looking way too nervous, like something about this gift really mattered.

I couldn’t think of any reason he’d be so worried… except, of course, because… he loved me. And he wanted to make me happy.

I wished he knew I already was. It was easy to be so, when you lived in a way so much easier and better and kinder than you would have thought was even possible.

I gently lifted the lid.

And gasped. “Oh, Quil, they’re beautiful.”

“You like them?”

He beamed.

“I love them.” Two earrings lay on the black velvet of the box. They were huge, to start with, big dangling chandeliers. Each started with a round sparkling stone, a thread of silver, and another, then four squares set on their points, made of lines of shining stones, a small hole in the center of each. Long strands of jewels, with circles in their midst and teardrops at the ends, fell almost two inches beneath the earring.

“Quil… are these diamonds?” I closed my eyes. I tried very, very hard not to be afraid of him. But… it was hard, sometimes, when he did things this exceptional.

You don’t buy diamond earrings for your friend’s twelfth birthday. I was still a child, but girls were starting to have boyfriends and kiss and that sort of thing… and I wasn’t.

“No. they’re crystal. And they were my mom’s. She gave them to me to give to you.”

He was obviously lying, but I smiled anyway. “Thank you so much.”

“Put them on.”

I picked the earrings up and held them to my head, and then I laughed out loud.


“There’s one teeny tiny problem. I don’t have pierced ears.”