Her.

Amidst their late-night conversations, he would often tell her the things that weren’t very good about her, the things she needed to change about herself, the things she needed to work on.

“Positive Criticism” were his words, he said.

And almost every time she believed in his words and questioned her eccentricity she felt she was drifting away from herself a bit more…

Decades later, being at the apotheosis of her life, she sits there alone beaming in her own bubble of serenity.

I look at her more amazed than ever… her long black hair now with visible hints of grey, her wide eyes now edged with the deep lines of happy crow’s feet accompanied with that hearty smile that never lost its grace… I can’t help but grin at what good age has done to her.
I look at her as she smirks at herself because now when she looks back to her young naive self she knows the only thing that was wrong with her was that,

“she believed the wrong person a little too easily….”.