“I have known that for quite some time now,” I murmured, as I shook my head. A tiny little thought that had me struggling for weeks now. That particular evening had seen a chain of events spiraling out of control. Speaking was as hard as I thought it would be.
“Then why didn’t you said something,” she said, her eyes wet, her lips trembling.
How could I have said something? I knew that to be the end result. I knew it wouldn’t work in the end. So I tried to spare her the pain. Maybe I shouldn’t have.
“What am I supposed to say to you? First, it’s not moral, and even if we forget about morality, um, you and me, we’ll never work,” I replied, irrational and rational reasons, all amalgamated in one incoherent thought.
“And how can you say that?” She answered, with a hint of anger clearly visible in her palpable black eyes.
My situation just seemed to keep getting worse by the moment. I needed a way out, I needed something to soothe her pain. I do not intentionally hurt anyone. I did not wanted to hurt her either. But in a way, she was no longer my friend because of that. Atleast not the one I knew.
“I have no idea kiddo, I’m really sorry if I misled you or if ended up stringing you along. Please know it was never my intention to hurt you,” I replied in ache, spellbound.
“But you did either way. Do you know I cried, so many times,” her coherent words interrupted by random sobs, “Every time I talked to you, um, every smile that you brought on my face,” another sob hurting us both, “It all feels so suffocating now. How am I supposed to be OK now?”
“I wish I could say something,” I wanted to sob in pain, hiding myself in one dark little corner. But I couldn’t, so I looked as detached as I was trying to avoid. I wanted to look sympathetic, I wanted her to know that I understood, her pain, her love, her words, I understood it all. I just couldn’t do anything about that.
“See, it’s even raining today and I know how much you love rain and I loved it because of you, I found myself in your shadows, you gave me my voice. You did so much for me, then why can’t you love me?”
“You know very well, I’m married, how could I cheat on my wife. If she ever did this to me, I’ll never be able to forgive her, then how can I make her go through that,” I reasoned, my words making as much sense as the turmoil that had racked havoc on us.
“And what am I supposed to do about my feelings?” she kept sobbing, looking like a crazed woman.
Against my better judgement, I closed my eyes in pain, conflicted and torn. If only we never met, how simple things could have been. The silence that shrouded the staircase finally became more deafening than anything I could have possibly imagined.
And finally I spoke, as gently as I could, looking as sympathetic as I could. I wanted to be something else in that moment. Only if I could have. But I was me. So I said, “I wish I could tell you, I wish it was that simple, I wish it didn’t made me look so shallow.”
And so I hurt her, even though I didn’t wanted to.