You roll over, the haze of sleep still clouds your mind but you feel the warmth of her hand in yours, you know she is beside you, you know her curls are tumbling across your pillow, you know the rise and fall of her chest matches your own, you know you are whole. As the high pitched beeping of your alarm clock pierces your ears you reach for her, you want to slip your arms around her waist and hold on. But the warmth of sleep fades and you reach and she is nowhere and just like every other morning you are alone. Your eyes flutter open and a cold rock settles in the pit of your stomach and just like every other morning you whisper to an empty pillow, "I love you."

You pour the coffee, taking out one mug, you want to take out two but she's not here. You shower, and when you close your eyes she's on the other side of the glass, but when you open them it's your reflection that you see, not hers, never hers. You watch the soap suds disappear down the drain, and you think how easily you could slip down there too. Instead you wrench the faucet around and cold water is pouring over you, and goose bumps appear on your skin and your teeth begin to chatter but you practice saying it, over and over again, I love you, I love you, I love you.

You walk into work and the sound of your heels on the pavement matches the thud of your heart. You look around, you should have seen her, or heard her, or heard from her by now but you haven't. A tiny whisper of fear uncoils itself in the back of your mind, she's found someone better, she's gone, but then the door behind you clicks and you know.

"Maura."

It slides off her tongue so easily, so familiarly. A small shiver of warmth slides down your back and you wonder how you went the last 10 hours without hearing her voice. Rougher than sandpaper, but as smooth as honey it envelopes you, and you're dreaming and you don't want to wake up. You turn around and she's there and she's smiling and you love her. But you don't say it, no you never say it.

You ask her how her morning has been and her brow knits, "Couldn't get a damn coffee." You think of the empty mug sitting alone in your cupboard and wordlessly you hold yours out to her. She shakes her head, "Come on Maur, I can't take your coffee," and you tell her she can but what you don't say is that you'd give her the world if you could. She smiles and you're reminded of the way the stars light up the night sky. Your heart breaks because she's not smiling for you, she's smiling at you. You smile for her, you breath for her, you live and it's all for her.

Your coffee in hand she walks with you to the elevators. She's detached, you can tell she's not really paying attention, you could say it now and she probably wouldn't even hear, maybe you should, but you don't. You never do. You're just about to go your separate ways, like you do every morning, when her head snaps up. Your heart pounds in your ears because for a second you're afraid that you have said it, that you told her you love her and now she's disgusted and she'll never want to see you again. Deep down though you know you haven't said it, you never do.

"Jane, what's the matter?" you detect a slightly hysterical note in your voice but it's too late to take it back now. She sighs, her thin frame droops with the motion and all you want to do is reach out and hold her up, wrap your arms around the thin waist and just hold on forever. But you don't, no you never do.

"Casey's going back to Afghanistan," you nod, relief fills your body but Jane isn't finished, "unless I marry him." Suddenly your world is crashing down, you see pieces of your life flake away and dissolve into a black future. You stop walking. Somehow you're not crying and you slide your hands behind your back so she doesn't see how badly they're shaking. You look into her face. Wide brown eyes are staring hopefully back at you, she massages the palms of her hands, flashes you a nervous smile, and she waits. She waits for you to say something. You don't know if you can.

You can feel the blood draining from your face and your heart is pounding in your ears, but you have to say something. "Did you-", your voice breaks, you try again, "did you say yes?" She drops her eyes from yours, smile fading from her face, with one hand she rakes through her hair, "I haven't said anything yet but," she looks up and laughs, "I mean I love him right? So I should say yes."

No you think, no you shouldn't, but her phone rings and then she's turning to leave. With a small wave over her shoulder she steps into the elevator. She flashes you a smile and you have one second, one second to say it. You want to scream it, you're bursting with it, Jane I love you, but you don't, you can't, so you say nothing. The elevator doors close. A single tear slides down your face and to two metal doors you whisper, "Jane, I love you."

You walk through the day with a hole in your chest. Unseeing, unfeeling, numb. She tries to call you, texts you, asking if you want to meet up for coffee, you don't answer. You can't. How can you? You've pushed it down, locked it away, ignored it, for years. Only now you might tell her. Now there's a hole in you and your heart is beating double time and three words could slip out at any second.

Instead you snap, and you pace, and you order, and you're broken.

"Maura."

You didn't know she was in here. You turn around and your heart aches. She's hovering by the doorway, eyebrows raised in an unsaid question, hands massaging one another. She's nervous. I love you.

"What?"

It comes out more harshly than you intended and she shrinks back, wounded. You feel her pain and confusion like a slap to the face but part of you burns, part of you wonders how she missed her best friend falling in love with her.

"I'm rather busy Jane, I-"

Her eyes flash. She takes a few steps forward. She's mad. You've never seen anything more beautiful in your life.

"Damn it Maura, ever since I told you about Casey you've been straight out ignoring me. I thought you'd be happy for me."

She's stunning, wild curls framing her face. She's mad, a wrinkle in her brow. She deserves to know, three words from your mouth.

"Jane," your voice breaks, you try again, "I'm in love with you."

It's done. Three years, that's 36 months, that's 1095 days, that's 94 608 000 seconds, and you've finally said it. A weight lifts from your shoulders, only to be replaced by a heavier one in your stomach.

I'm yours, don't break me. I'm fragile, don't break me. I love you, don't break me.