01.Three Years Of Love

She was crying in the bedroom. He was smoking by the kitchen window, trying to ignore her loud sobs. They’ve been there before, and as usual they would get through this. He just knew the game too well. She would get tired of crying, and would eventually fall asleep in their queen size bed, and he would come join her later. They would wake up in each other’s arms, apologizing and promising to never fight again like they had. But they both knew it would be a lie; they would fight again – eventually. He heard a stuffed noise coming from the bedroom, and reported his attention to the skyline that was rising proudly outside of the window. This apartment had been their home for the past two years and would be for some more to come. An opening door drew him from his daydreaming state, and killing off the cigarette, he stepped into the hallway, right in time to see her put on her winter boots, a small suitcase behind her. “So that’s it?” he let out, incredulous. She didn’t stop dressing up and when she finally looked at him, he knew that this time their story had reached its end. “That’s it. I am leaving. We can’t go on like this – I can’t. I’m sorry.” And she was gone. He watched the door close behind her, without making a move to stop her. Surely she would come back – he hoped.

He was sitting on the corner of the bed, a glass of whiskey in hand. He looked around, meeting only the shape of a woman sound asleep in the cotton bedsheets. Soon it would be the morning, and the beginning of a new year. He slowly got up and began to dress. It was time he went home. He always hoped she would be there, waiting for him. Time had gone by since the day she closed the door of their apartment, but he hadn’t stopped waiting. She would come back – he would reassure himself. The apartment had not changed at all, despite it being more messy. Her stuffs still occupied their original place, as if she had never left. He never invited other women over. He hardly ever stayed in, either. Instead, he went out every night, meeting a new woman at a local bar or club and ending in her bed – most of the times. What he didn’t want to admit to himself, was that he was heartbroken. He would never love anyone as much as he’d loved her. All he could hope was that she would realize that she still loved him too, and would return to him.

He saw her again, six months later. He was walking out of a coffee shop, and she was there, across the street hailing for a cab. Their gaze met for a few seconds, and they smiled at each other. She blew him a kiss before disappearing in the city’s traffic. He stood there for a few minutes, wondering if he’d dreamed it all. She kept smiling as she was entering her office. She never expected to see him again, and yet, it felt good. He hadn’t changed at all, but she had. Time did heal – after all.

She was wrapping a scarf around her neck, keeping an eye on the bedside clock. If she didn’t hurry up, she would miss her train. She picked up a pen and wrote down I’m Sorry on a small piece of paper, that she slipped into an envelope and set it on the bed, as well as her spare key. It’d been two years since she last broke up with someone. She had been happy this past year; she’d seen the world, fallen in love with a new guy and laughed as hard as if she’d never been heartbroken. But it hadn’t been enough. Enough to keep her in this life – at least. She stepped on the platform and waited for the train to park. She had made her decision the night before, while they were out dining. He had been talking about the future, about buying a house, and settling in for good, and all she could picture was her old apartment, that was too big for one person, and yet was too small for two. She had to go back. It was her home. She sat there in the train, smiling to herself. She was scared but she had faith. Everything would be right in the end.

He opened his eyes to the smell of her perfume. The year was touching to its end, and he couldn’t find a reason to be unhappy. He brought her hand to his lips and softly kissed it. It’d been months since she came back, but he still had hard time believing it. She looked up at him, and smiled. They would fight – eventually, but they would always find the road back into their love. After all, love was a bumpy road, and as long as they were together, they would lift each other up. Of that she was now certain.

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12 Comments

  1. J’aime bien, surtout le style par contre je trouve le 4ème paragraphe pas assez clair, surtout lu du premier coup en ce qui concerne les lieux et la personnne maculine, même si on comprend le sens au final 🙂

    Reply

    1. Merci. Le 4ème paragraphe est sensé être ambigu, surtout que je n’ai pas utilisé de prénoms pour différencier les personnages.

      Reply

  2. The end of the 4th paragraph is a bit confusing but the story itself is very interesting! I love how you describe spaces and actions! It’s very detailed! It’s well written! Good job!

    Reply

    1. Well I kinda intended it to be ambiguous there, but I might clear it a bit since you’re the second person to mention that. But thank you 🙂 I appreciate the feedback!

      Reply

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