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" We will have to see what happens after this war is over," Tristan remarked.Cassiopeia shrugged. "Well it's getting late, so I will leave you in peace to rest or whatever." She giggled and winked at Aesia."Goodnight." With that, she disappeared. Aesia snuggled into Tristan's arms. With her head resting on his shoulder, Tristan idly stroked her fine silky hair. Without warning she sat up and turned to him."Tristan, Cassiopeia is the same as Dionysia. She is not like the other number crunchers, is she?" No," Tristan replied.Aesia's eyes bored into his. "Tristan, you did something, didn't you?" Tristan shrugged. He felt the soft questioning touch of her mind. She felt the barrier he had placed over the memory of what he had seen. She sensed the horror of what was there, something that had shaken him. She squeezed him hard. "I'm sorry. Let's go to bed. It has been a long day, and we may have a longer one tomorrow."They were woken by their bed being bounced on. Tristan pulled the sheets. But then, we grew up. She met a guy, then another guy, then her husband. She had k**s, built a life, drifted off. I did the same - a career, a different sense of authority and self. We connected years later over Facebook, of all places. Our correspondence was light and flirtatious and full of substance, twenty years of catching up. I learned the names of her c***dren, the details of her divorce, her plans to start a new business. I told her how I had picked up a little gray, dressed more professionally, was no longer that awkward boy. It was only a matter of time before our correspondence led to a meeting, and one evening, I found myself making dinner and awaiting her arrival at my house in the city.She was older, but still youthful. The lines on her face were comely and handsome. Her hair was no longer the jet black I remembered, but a warm honey-brown that fell to her waist in a soft straight cascade. She dressed like a mother - simply, jeans and a sweater, a practical pair.
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