I just finished reading Love in the Time of Cholera; some parts of it I felt as if it were me going through the emotions:
"Ever since her rejection of him at the age of eighteen, she had been convinced the she had left behind a seed of hatred that could only grow larger with time. She had always counted on that hatred, she had felt it in the air when the phantom was near, and the mere sight of him had upset and frightened her so that she never found a natural way to behave with him. On the night when he reiterated his love for her, while the flowers for her dead husband were still perfuming the house, she could not believe that his insolence was not the first step in God knows what sinister plan for revenge."
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