Not kindly.
“Love? Travis, be realistic.”
My cousin leaned forward.
“She has money. You’re telling me that has nothing to do with it?”
I felt anger rise inside me.
“Do you even know her?”
My father shook his head.
“I know enough.”
“No, you don’t.”
“You’re making a mistake.”
Those words followed me for weeks.
Everywhere I went, people had an opinion.
Neighbors whispered.
Friends questioned me.
Strangers online called me names.
But Eleanor never complained.
That was what hurt the most.
She accepted every insult directed at her, but she worried about what those insults were doing to me.
“You deserve a life where you don’t have to defend your happiness every day,” she told me one night.
I looked at her.
“And you deserve someone who doesn’t walk away when things become difficult.”
For the first time, Eleanor looked like she might cry.
Then she smiled.
And that
