Zelda was sitting at her spot in the library, looking out over the campus as students hurried to and from classes. She was doing her best not to cry or feel sorry for herself. She had known her poem wasn't award-worthy, but she hadn't expected Boone to rip it to shreds the way he had. Bone hadn't been rude, but he had been blunt, stating that she was writing the message that she thought the readers wanted to hear, not what she needed to say. He assured her that the form of the verse was great but the meaning was lackluster.

Zelda had stood firm and insisted that everyone was different and needed to hear and say different things, and who was he to tell her what she needed to say.

Boone responded that he, for one, couldn't care less about hearing what she had to say in her poem, but that maybe he would if she put a little more thought and effort into it. He also reminded her that he was the one grading her, so he hoped she delivered something better for her next effort. He had then concluded by saying that if she wasn't even going to try, he didn't know why she was wasting everyone's time.

It wasn't that his critique was so upsetting, it was, but what upset her more was that he was right. She had written what she thought people would like and she hadn't put much thought or effort into it. Boone had seen through her. If it had been only the two of them, his critique would have been easier to handle, but this had been in front of the entire class. Some had snickered and smirked, and others had looked away, embarrassed for her.

Zelda felt movement behind her, but she didn't need to turn around to know it was Boone.

"This isn't the first time that I've been hard on you, Zelda." he softly said as he sat in the chair next to her. "I used to do the same thing when you were an undergrad and wanted me to critique your work." He reached out and touched her hand. "I know you have more in you to give."

"No, it's not the first time," she agreed, "but it's the first time you did it in a room full of people, Boone." She turned to stare at him, unable to hide the tears that she was trying not to shed. Eden would know in an instant if she had been crying.

"I was equally hard on most of the others too, if you recall," he countered, trying to make it better, trying to absolve himself of the guilt he felt at seeing the tears in her eyes.

"Yes, you're a real hardass, aren't you?" She shook her head.

"I know you have plenty to say, Zelda. Not just to me but to the world, and I want you to at least try." Boone was trying hard to make her understand, but it was him who didn't understand.

"Why, so one of those students can take what I say and sell it to a tabloid who will read all sorts of sinister things into what I write? No, thank you. I'd rather fail." Zelda's eyes turned hard behind the tears.

Boone looked at her with something close to shock in his expression at her outburst.

"Maybe that's Simone's big play," Zelda said, turning the thought over in her mind. "She could probably go to the tabloids with what she has after today's class. She doesn't need to wait for something juicer. I can see the headlines now, 'Collin Strauss's Wife Bombs Graduate School'." She shook her head, fighting not to remember the low point in her life when the tabloids ruled every waking minute.

"What are you talking about, Zelda?" Boone asked, not understanding what she was saying.

Zelda turned to look at him and noted his look of confusion. "How do you not know?" She asked. It was her turn to be shocked. "I thought everyone knew?"

"Knew what?" Boone asked, his voice was low and urgent as if he sensed he was about to find another piece to the puzzle.

Zelda pulled out her computer and accessed the web. She typed in Collin Strauss and car accident and pulled up one of the more salacious stories before pushing the computer towards him.

"It's all there, follow the links," she insisted, turning to look out the window, unable to watch him learn about her failed marriage.

Boone clicked and read for what felt like an eternity before he closed her computer with slow deliberation as if closing the lid on a casket.

"I had no idea," he said, his voice gruff as he crossed his arms and looked at the space in front of him, not really seeing it.

Zelda felt that she had to say something to break his continued silence. "I don't know how you didn't know, at the time it felt like everyone knew." She smiled bitterly. "Would you like to hear a secret that isn't all that secret?" she asked, as she packed her computer back into her bag.

Boone nodded, still unable to look at her.

"Collin never loved me, and he never wanted me." Zelda looked at him, begging him to look at her. Boone must have heard her silent plea because he looked up, meeting her gaze. Boone's was full of pain.

"I know," he whispered.

Zelda closed her eyes in despair. That made it so much worse. That he knew that Collin never wanted her, that he was able to see through him all those years ago, and she couldn't, it was like a slap in the face. She must have looked like a fool.

"You want to hear another secret?" She gathered her courage and opened her eyes to look at him.

His hand that was laying in his lap, balled into a fist as he nodded.

"I never loved or wanted him either." Zelda stood, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "I have plenty to say, but why would I want to leave myself open like that? Why would I want to share my sordid history with people who don't care?" Then she stepped past him and walked away without looking back.

What she wanted to do was beg him to not be angry with her, to not judge her for what she had done eight years ago.

Zelda didn't get very far before she felt a hand on her arm, pulling her into the stacks behind her. He didn't stop but dragged her to the middle of a very long and dark row. Then he turned and looked down into her eyes, really looked at her as he tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

"I am so sorry, Zelda. I'm sorry you felt you had to marry a man you didn't want or love. I'm sorry I wasn't a better friend and didn't try to stop you leaving, but I truly believed that you loved him." He rested his head against hers and took a deep breath. "It's a tragic twist," Boone said with a shuddering sigh.

"What is?" Zelda was close to losing it. No one had ever cared.

"You didn't want him, but I thought you did. He didn't want you, but you thought he did." He took a deep breath. "Do you want to know a secret?" Boone's gruff voice asked.

Zelda swallowed hard, scared of what he was about to say, but she couldn't tell him no.

"Eight years ago, all I wanted was you, Zelda." His voice broke as he said it.

She felt her heart rip open at his words, and Zelda collapsed on a sob. Boone caught her, holding her while she cried in despair. After a moment, she stepped back and looked up at him with tears streaming down her face. She needed to look him in the eye as she said the words.

"And eight years ago, all I wanted was you, Boone." Another sob rose in her throat, and she couldn't contain it as her knees gave way and he sunk to the cold library floor with Zelda cradled in his arms. Boone held her tight while she cried for what might have been.

Zelda didn't know how long they sat there holding each other, but eventually, the tears stopped, and she went into panic mode. "What time is it?" she asked, gathering up her stuff and avoiding Boone's questioning look.

"It's about a quarter past three," he answered.

"I have to go." She wiped her face with the heels of her hands. "I'll be late getting Eden from school." She stood, and he followed.

"We need to talk more about this, Zelda. We can't leave it like this," he insisted, but she still couldn't look at him.

"I can't right now, I have to get Eden," she said before she turned and fled.

All she could think of was how unfair life was and how she would give anything to go back in time and fix it.