Marrying you wouldn’t be the worst fate for a girl like me.
In fact, our union would be one of absolute happiness. My mother loves you like her own son. My sisters have called you their brother long before your heartbeat first faltered around me. Your grandfather finds amusement in my spirited nature and reckons we’ll make a fine pair. And I cannot deny it because I have known nothing but joy in your company. We would be happy together. Not satisfied, but happy.
I love you too much to let you settle for the life we’d build together.
If I let you marry me, you would love me so fiercely you would break us both, desperate to feel me adore you the way you adore me. You would move heaven and earth for me, exhausting yourself in pursuit of a love I cannot give you. You would blame yourself for my indifference and hate, all the things that make you beautiful, until you would become just a wilted scrap of your brilliant self. You would be a dead sunflower, your vibrant yellow petals turned brown and ordinary from my neglect. So I must save you from the pain of being my husband because I can never love you as you deserve.
You must know this is no easy decision for me. If we could choose who we love, I would’ve chosen you a thousand times over, because you are the dearest friend I’ve ever known.
But all I can do is ask for your forgiveness and pray that in another life, my soul will find something beyond friendship in your beauty.