Love Ends

Willer doubted if telling her could be a mistake, that he may regret it later. He noted that his life had become a chore, as if he were inhabiting a presence that had been constructed for him. He felt burdened by the substantial weight of his relationship. It had been ten years since they first met. He loved Aiman for as long as he could remember; even though her presence was confined to a single room, he couldn't wait to get to her. What felt like routine on the walk back home was transformed by Aiman, who was always ecstatic, a pure soul, free and floating as if gravity had forgotten to involve her in the world. They had loved each other through thick and thin, managing to get through it all, though the circumstances were constantly changing throughout his time with her.

They watched shows at night. Willer mostly liked thrillers, while Aiman preferred story-driven shows, so adjustments had to be made. Aiman had no other friends besides Willer. She confided in him and he listened to her. Whenever he looked at her, free and unreserved, he envied her intensely. He would ask her if she was satisfied and her response was always a laugh. Willer would contain his arguments, knowing that his words sounded genuine. But they were not honest. Almost every time, he was surprised by the minute details she presented. He would spend hours in her lap while she carried through the narratives of the world. He was always the observer, never the observed.

At every glimpse of her and in every heartfelt moment, minutes that slipped away, he would analyze whether he could have this intimacy with a soul different from her. He had never been with another. She had never made him feel that way, and because of this, he felt unsure, as if his privilege, the endless love from Aiman, was something he had taken for granted. Whenever his attention turned to her presence and shine, comparisons to the women he encountered would appear in his mind. These were no longer passing thoughts but complete and utter participation in the felicities of desire. He spent most of his time after work with his peers, and even during work, he would listen to the affairs of his colleagues and the lavish parties they attended. In the beginning, it was an escape through normalcy, but now Aiman existed for him only when he was with her, a vitality for the night while his requiem he left behind. Although Willer did not feel any remorse for the emotional gap he had created, he wanted to make sure she knew.

So she comes to open the door. At the other end stands Willer. Willer fails to look at her face to face. Aiman opens the door and leans forward to kiss his lips. Willer, startled by instinct, pulls back, knowing the burden he is about to place on her. She freezes, her hand still reaching. He steps into the room and speaks hesitantly: "I don't think I love you anymore."

On saying that, Willer felt the silence thicken, as if the air itself held its breath. They had disagreed on things before but never let those disagreements fester into quarrels or eruptions. This confrontation, which had lived in his head for far too long, was merely a necessity to him. But to see her like that, as if everything had left her and the forces that sustained her, hovering and unattached, he falters.

She does not move. She stands at the threshold, listening to his explanations and justifications as if they are sounds from another room. Unlike Willer, she was never the observer. To her, the honesty or compelling nature of his arguments does not matter. She simply looks at him, and in that stillness, everything is said. Then quietly, she steps back and says, "Leave."

CONTEST: "The Keyword of the Week" / WETTBEWERB: "Das Schlüsselwort der Woche"

_{Posted using SteemX}