He’s waited, impatient, for a lifetime. One miniscule human span of time – the slowest years of his eternity. He could have had her young and ripe; taken her innocent exuberance all for his own.
Instead he has watched all those things he loved about her get beaten out of her. There is no blush to her face; her hair is lank and lifeless. The energy she devotes to giving it lustre is the same determination she has used to hold him off all these years.
Finally his morning is dawning. He savours the kiss. The oft-dreamt of capitulation is sweet.