…and in that same instant I wasn’t his anymore.
He seemed to be busy scribbling something down on a white paper napkin that day at breakfast. I watched his eyes as they shifted nervously. I watched how his pen lingered longer than was required on a word. I couldn’t see that he was writing though. He covered it with his hand, like one of those kids in school who hated people cheating off them. He was like that. He looked up at me with a broken smile, which quickly disappeared. And he sighed. He breathed out a long deep sigh and blinked at me before showing me the paper. I tried to read him, read his eyes before I could face what was written down. A million things had formed in my head. Ideas pushing over other ideas. But it looked like he already knew the answer or my reaction. I looked down at the soft tissue now in my hands. I looked at it and looked up at him again, his gaze had never left my face. So I looked back down. He had scribbled ” would you still feel the same way about me tomorrow? ”. I swallowed. I knew he knew the answer. I knew he knew me too well. yet I don’t know why he’s still seated in front of me asking this question. I wasn’t sure of many things, and the answer to this question was something I was sure of. I returned his half broken smile with mine, and replied ‘I don’t know.’ The same answer I’ve been giving him over and over for the past month.
I watched him as his eyes crumpled. He held back the tears and smiled. He didn’t expect a different answer from me, but he hoped against everything that maybe, just maybe, today will be a day where I give him a different answer.
I don’t know how he could love someone who was never really sure of their own feelings. Someone who never really opened up to the possibilities of the wide world. Someone who remained to keep a bit of herself hidden. Someone like you.