"It's not that I never loved you..."
"It's just you like her now?" The sharpness of her words had stung him. He looked at the woman in front of him, her hair was messy, and the usual color in her cheeks had faded away. It seemed as if she herself was fading away. She wasn't look torn or crushed. She was tired. Tired of getting her hopes up. Tired of being lead on. I guess she kind of expected it in a way. He was too good for her. Too good looking, too smart. Too good. He was going to be somebody. A writer, A journalist, and she was just her.
He looks at her, sympathetic. She doesn't want his pity. All she wanted was for him to hold her into his arms and tell her everything would be okay. She wanted him to lie to her, tell her that he would love her forever. Men are nice that way, they make you feel like there IS a forever. But the best we can ever do by ourselves is one long lifetime. And this is usually enough.
She should've known anyway. That rainy afternoon in the cafe, she remembers, the day they met a few years ago. The friendly smile, the flirty exchanges, she knew it all too well. It could've been any girl, but it was her. Maybe the universe made a mistake, she often told herself, maybe it wasn't her who was meant to be in that cafe, in that seat. I mean, let's face it, he was gorgeous. She was just, her. It was just wasn't enough for him anymore. The Universe was telling her that they were a mistake. She was a mistake.
He tucks a few strands of hair behind her ear, trying to comfort her. She pushes him away, tired. She didn't want it. She didn't want him to touch her. She WAS tired. Tired of this false hope. She didn't want it anymore.
"Goodbye, my friend." She turns to leave. "I don't think I want this anymore. I would rather be with a man who loves me as much as I love him, I would rather live a mess than steal some one else's fairytale."
There was not much that he could say to make this better. All was said and done. She had made it clear now, she did not want anything to do with him.
She kisses him on the cheek, and leaves.
"There are girls out there, who are perfect for him. Beautiful, smart, friendly. She'll make him happy. She'll call him every morning to say good morning and kiss him good night. He'll take her out of Saturdays, and she'll bring him to Church and they'll have lunch with family. They'll have a happy life. Not this messed up thing that we had. There's her, and then there's me." She looks up the sky. It was rainy, and she was in the same cafe where they had met. A man was with her, holding her hand as she was writing on a piece of napkin. She smiles, for the first time in a year.
"It's just you like her now?" The sharpness of her words had stung him. He looked at the woman in front of him, her hair was messy, and the usual color in her cheeks had faded away. It seemed as if she herself was fading away. She wasn't look torn or crushed. She was tired. Tired of getting her hopes up. Tired of being lead on. I guess she kind of expected it in a way. He was too good for her. Too good looking, too smart. Too good. He was going to be somebody. A writer, A journalist, and she was just her.
He looks at her, sympathetic. She doesn't want his pity. All she wanted was for him to hold her into his arms and tell her everything would be okay. She wanted him to lie to her, tell her that he would love her forever. Men are nice that way, they make you feel like there IS a forever. But the best we can ever do by ourselves is one long lifetime. And this is usually enough.
She should've known anyway. That rainy afternoon in the cafe, she remembers, the day they met a few years ago. The friendly smile, the flirty exchanges, she knew it all too well. It could've been any girl, but it was her. Maybe the universe made a mistake, she often told herself, maybe it wasn't her who was meant to be in that cafe, in that seat. I mean, let's face it, he was gorgeous. She was just, her. It was just wasn't enough for him anymore. The Universe was telling her that they were a mistake. She was a mistake.
He tucks a few strands of hair behind her ear, trying to comfort her. She pushes him away, tired. She didn't want it. She didn't want him to touch her. She WAS tired. Tired of this false hope. She didn't want it anymore.
"Goodbye, my friend." She turns to leave. "I don't think I want this anymore. I would rather be with a man who loves me as much as I love him, I would rather live a mess than steal some one else's fairytale."
There was not much that he could say to make this better. All was said and done. She had made it clear now, she did not want anything to do with him.
She kisses him on the cheek, and leaves.
"There are girls out there, who are perfect for him. Beautiful, smart, friendly. She'll make him happy. She'll call him every morning to say good morning and kiss him good night. He'll take her out of Saturdays, and she'll bring him to Church and they'll have lunch with family. They'll have a happy life. Not this messed up thing that we had. There's her, and then there's me." She looks up the sky. It was rainy, and she was in the same cafe where they had met. A man was with her, holding her hand as she was writing on a piece of napkin. She smiles, for the first time in a year.
