Tristan would never forget that day. Not ever.
He woke up to a knock on his door. He knew the
instant he heard it that the person was her. Everything last night had been
such a blur, but he did remember giving her a really long kiss goodnight at
somewhere between 1 and 2 am.
His bedside clock said seven hours had already
passed, at the most.
He didn’t know or suspected anything then. It was
normal routine for the two of them to greet goodmorning when one wakes up. He
expected to be overwhelmed by her bright smile and the mere sight of her face
when he opened the door. He was optimistic.
Tristan had never been more wronged.
The moment he saw her, he never knew he could feel
fear as intense as he did right then.
She looked terrified. Haunted. She was shaking as
her caramel eyes tried to tell him words she found impossible to voice out. He
barely registered her change of clothes.
“What? What is it?” He reached for her hand, but she
wrenched it out of his touch.
The sharp hurt that cut Tristan’s heart was vicious.
Appalled, he tried to bring something out from her; anything for him to know
what was responsible for the dread that marred her beautiful face – the face he
loved more than anything else.
“Tell me. Please, tell me what’s wrong.” He pleaded.
He got nothing. She continued to shake to the point
that it seemed as if her very bones had been drenched in ice cold water. Her
eyes didn’t pool with tears, but they were worse, much worse than that. They belonged
to a cornered animal, a deer caught in the headlights.
It pained Tristan to no end.
His heart tearing apart, he begged, “Tell – tell me
what’s wrong. Please, I can’t stand to see you like this.”
The words she said were whispered low, but they
sliced through the early morning haze like a knife on someone’s throat.
“I – I’m no sorry,” her voice was strangled,
struggling to be heard as she tried to explain, “He – he just came – I – I don’t
know how I – what to say to you before – ”
His muscles went slack. His mind was sapped with all
thoughts as the tangled words echoed in his dead ears.
He just came.
I’m so sorry.
“He – he told me to – ” she broke off, too stricken
for words. A minute passed before she found her voice again, “ – to tell you he
– he had it all under control – that I – that I should say goodbye before we
left – ”
He had it all
under control.
“I’m so – so sorry – he packed my things already and
I – I don’t know what to say – ”
I should say
goodbye before we left.
“Tristan – ”
“But…” the voice he heard sounded faraway to him,
something alien. He didn’t recognize it as his own at all. He whispered only
four broken words.
“But I love you.”
That’s when she cried.
“I’m so sorry.”
She turned around and left his life.
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