We had been walking together for the past fifteen minutes without speaking to each other. Sentences were left broken with excuses like you won’t understand and no explanation needed. He looked at me once in a while when my cough distracted him from his own thoughts. His silence suppressed my ability to breathe, as he tried hard to make everything seemed normal.
There was nothing left to say between us. Our story is a mixture of an useless Romeo and Juliet plot, and an anti-climatic ending to “A Walk to Remember.” I wanted to apologize to him for how things had turned out, yet every bone in my body refused to give my jaw the energy to do so. From the way he looked at me, I knew that he understood what had happened. It was the natural push-and-pull theory; he tried to make the relationship work while I found reasons to run away from his protectiveness. He wanted me to be there indefinitely, while I wanted to stay temporarily without a contract.
We had talked for hours before on the possibility of spending our lives together. I have nodded and cooed back to every I love you. I had let my future plans go in his presence. For a year and a half, I wanted to make him the reason for living — but failed to do so with every trip I took abroad.
Being there with him that day, after a thousand things had gone wrong, was my apology to him in the slightest effort. It was the unspoken and underrated sorry of how I had wasted his time with my disappearance and my selfish talks.
I am writing this now, and will again in the future, in hope that he might stumble upon this tiny letter of confession. I want to contain in this my faults, so by chance, he would understand that nothing was wrong with him… for I did love him in ways that should be flashed with warning signs of construction ahead. It is also a letter of hope — for forgiveness and for a future, in which he will someone new to spend countless hours with.