Eighteen Months


Eighteen months ago, I saw you outside my favorite church’s steps. You were crying, jilted at the altar. I ran to you, put my arms around you as you wept. Warily, you lifted your face to mine. I kissed the top of your head, making you feel that I will always be here for you. You sobbed harder as I held you tight.

For the next days and months that followed, I didn’t leave your side. You were inconsolable. You barely smiled. You resigned from work. Your parents tried to get you out of your room but you wanted to stay indoors. Your delicate heart was broken into pieces.

But slowly, painstakingly, I found ways to make you feel a little better each day. I would play your favorite songs in your iPod and made you listen. I would turn on the TV to your favorite gag show to make you laugh. I would give you a funny book to read, which made you smile. We would look through my wacky photographs and you’d grin delightfully. When tears fell down from your eyes, I would kiss them away one by one. And at night, I would lull you to sleep by murmuring “I love you” to you as I nibble your ear and gather your warm body to my sweet embrace.

I was so happy when one day, you stepped out of your room to finally go back to work. Your family and friends were crying and smiling at the same time. I tagged along with you on your first day and saw how you loved being back in your office, mingling with old friends and meeting new ones. You plunged yourself into your job as a way to forget your heartbreak.

I would wait for you at home everyday, eager to know how the day went by. And you would always tell me how fulfilled you were at how you did your job, even some of your blunders and frustrations with your co-workers.

Until one day you spoke to me . . . about him.

My heart felt a stab of pain at your first mention of his name. But I didn’t let you notice it.

Day after day, I watched you drift away from me. You didn’t call on me as often as before. When I called you, you do not hear me, or is it that you weren’t listening anymore?

You would now laugh at the most mundane things, waiting not for my prompt. A smile was always pasted on your lips, your eyes twinkling, thinking of happy thoughts that I fear do not include me. Whereas before, you hungrily grope for my presence at night on the bed, now you turn away from me and wouldn’t let me touch you.

One day, I surprised you at work. But I was the one surprised when I saw you kissing him.

I wanted to get angry at you, but I couldn’t. I love you too much.

Without a word, I walked away, not waiting to hear your explanation. I was hoping you’d seek me out, but you didn’t. I waited, and waited. But you didn’t come.

Hard as it was, I had to accept that the day I was afraid of has finally arrived: You fell out of love from me, and fell in love with someone else.


TODAY is your wedding day. You are the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen. I am so envious of your groom and I wanted to hate him.

But seeing him looking at you with great affection made me realize that he will do everything to make you happy. And that was enough for me to accept defeat.

Now I know what made me stay. I stayed because I wanted to make sure that you would move on, that you’d go on living.

As I walk out of the church and out of your life, I felt for the last time the indescribable pain and agony I suffered when my car crashed on our wedding day. . . eighteen months ago.

And then the light claimed me, and afterwards. . . OBLIVION.

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