We have been here for three hours. The clock above the archway ticks into the night. Has it always been that loud? Can he hear it too? My attention moves back to the man sitting across from me, only to find his eyes scanning my face. We have been at this for too long. It’s not an awkward silence. Everything that needs to be said has been said. This silence is one of resignation. Neither of us wants to be the one to turn our back on this relationship, even though the words spoken this evening have already set the end in motion. When the sun comes up tomorrow, everything will have changed.
Unable to bear the weight of his gaze any longer, I look around the place we once called home. At some stage, we both started to refer to it as ‘the house.’ Recently, we also made it an unspoken rule to try to be scarce when the other was around. Now that all feels a little silly. Time and energy we will never get back. My eyes settle on a pair of coffee mugs, abandoned beside the bread bin. The larger of the two reads, “Coffee, Because Adulting is Hard.” That one is mine. The other mug is navy at the top, which fades into turquoise towards the bottom. That one is his. I didn’t like coffee before meeting him. The smell was off-putting. He, on the other hand, is a connoisseur of coffee. Nothing could’ve stopped him from teaching me about one of his great passions. Nothing could’ve stopped me from learning about and falling a little bit in love with one of his passions.
I’m suddenly reminded of everything else I have come to love, either through him or with him.
Watching YouTube videos of a man touring mansions we never wish to own but love to admire.
Riding our bikes together every Saturday morning.
Tending to our small but highly fruitful garden.
Visiting our local bookshop. Browsing through the hundreds of books on display.
Sleeping. Sitting. Watching. Touching. Talking.
A sadness washes over me. I feel his hand land softly over mine, a gesture that once filled me with so much warmth. Now I resist the urge to pull my hand away. But he knows me well enough to notice even the slightest change in my demeanour. He gently pulls his hand back, a pained expression taking over his face.
“I think it’s time for me to leave,” he whispers.
No. Yes.
I hesitated for a moment, feeling the weight of his words. Looking up at the clock, the sound of its ticking was barely audible over the pounding in my ears. At that moment, all the unspoken words from the hours we spent in the kitchen rushed to the tip of my tongue. I longed to express my remorse, to explain that I never intended to fall in love with her, but I did, and I couldn’t keep lying about it. I wanted him to understand that despite my recent actions, I didn’t harbour any hatred toward him. I still loved him, even though it seemed unjust right now.
Despite these thoughts, I simply nodded, silently allowing him to walk out of my life for good.
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Image: MS Copilot AI remixed