XIII/XXX. Denial

A couple of thousand times I told her that she was pretty.

But she denied it. She always denied the fact that she was pretty.

My Dad always said that I should never tell someone that they were ugly, there was no such word that hurt everyone the most like "ugly" and we should always tell the women that they were pretty and graceful. But as they say, it was harder to convince them that they were pretty more than to say the truth in front of their face. However, I always fought and I always told her every time I saw her, that she was pretty and even prettier if she was in my arms.

But she denied it, always. The twinkling sound of her laughter told me that the denial was, in fact, her version of the truth. She always believed that she was not pretty, never ugly, but just the opposite of pretty. She always told herself that, she was not pretty. But, I thought of the opposite.

A couple of thousand times I told her that she was pretty.