He claimed he didn’t love her more than any of the others, but he did really. He seen something in her that he couldn’t see in the others. It was in her eyes and the simple freckles on her face. He seen an innocence that he’d seen before and lost in a woman he’d loved more than anything.
He turned a blind eye to the knowledge that this woman wasn’t the first.
He loved her more because to her he could turn a blind eye.
He wanted to protect her from the harm she claimed to always be victim too. Always he turned a blind eye to the truth that she was no victim at all, rather an instigator.
He needed to protect her because he felt a failure for not being able to protect the women he had loved before. He turned a blind eye to the harm she caused first to instigate the retaliation.
He listened to her tears, his heart breaking as he seen her pushed away from all those around her. He turned a blind eye to her having pushed everyone away first.
His heart ached as she left him, needing to pull her back to him one last time just so she knew she was loved.
He turned a blind eye to the truth that she had left him years before and had only stayed until another came along who could let her always be the centre of attention.
He felt a failure.
He turned a blind eye to the fact that she was in fact the true failure.