That's How We Broke Up

Sejal Makwana | 09-Nov-2016

With quivering hands and trembling feet, my body made a tremulous motion as the taxi approached the cafe. It took me a few gasps to gather the tremendous courage to walk out of the car and face him. With my heart pounding in my mouth, I gradually walked towards the fourth table in the corner, OUR table which was a home for our million memories.

Our story wasn’t that extraordinary, it was two people unknowingly bumping into each other at a library and then ending up on this small cute table discussing books over coffee. Books and Beans, they named the cafe and we couldn’t relate more. He had always been an introvert while I was more of an ambivert. He would let me talk for hours and prefer gazing at me with this irresistible smile. For him, feelings were the business of eyes and rarely words. He had this awkward inability of not being able to put his feelings into words, but his over expressive eyes made up for almost everything. We knew at some point, we belonged to each other. I could always tell what I loved about him but he when asked, would simply smile and look me into the eye for a minute or two. Damn! In that moment, I would have all my answers. We were too connected to let our eyes hide anything from each other.

That's How We Broke Up.

But right now, at this moment, I couldn’t afford the truth to be naked in front of his affectionate gape. As I walk towards the table, his gorgeously amazing eyes welcome me which is followed by his innocently crooked smile as always. There is a strange twinkle in his eyes, the kind that makes you feel less of hopeless and more of hopeful. He offers me a seat and gestures his love by touching my cheeks gently as he whispers a Hello. I could see his eyes questioning me the reason of calling him suddenly at this hour of the night. I could sense his worry that spread across as lines on his forehead. Before I could begin my battle with words, he orders a cappuccino and a black coffee. He is like my diary, aware of all my likes and dislikes, dreams and desires. Indeed, he is my human diary. I could crib and complain to him about anything and everything but today was surely a different day.

I try not to look into his beautiful eyes as I stammer and struggle to speak my words, the final words. He notices the awkwardness in me and gently holds my hand, it was his way of saying “Take your time sweetheart, I’m all ears to listen to you.” With all the emotions and insecurities piling up, my words make a way out. “I am sorry. I can’t take this anymore. I want to end this right here, right now. I don’t love you and please spare me by not questioning my decision.”

Suddenly, my stomach feels a painful churning and my heart is wrenched into pieces that sparsely work. The world immediately seems to be upside down and I feel like throwing up.I gather all my courage yet fail to mutter a single word of comfort. I already feel like a murderer who killed the only person she loved the most, I die a thousand deaths within. We sit there like that for some time unless I hear him sobbing with his twinkling eyes turned to a painful shade of red. In that moment, my heart sinks in into an unending pit of grief. I couldn’t bare that sight anymore and a tear escapes my eye as I close them forcibly. I had promised myself not to shed even a single tear in front of him, not to let love become my weakness. I try with all my strength to not let this cruel salted water run down my cheeks but I fail miserably in living up to my promise. So, I simply sit there waiting for him to bombard me with his painful questions and his red gloomy eyes. Strangely, he stands up rather, comes close to me and kisses my forehead gently while my cheeks feel his tears rolling down, making a way beneath my eyes. How I wish I could freeze time in this brief moment and never let the demons of departure take over.

He silently pays the bill at the counter after whispering an awful goodbye of my life into my ear. It was strange of him to not question my decision at all, but he was always the one who chose silence over words. This time, for once only, his silence was hurting himself more than it hurt me.He walks away with fragile feet and an enormously heavy heart. It takes all my left over energy to barely convince me to not run after him and hold him in my arms. I could literally see my life pass by as he exits from the door.

The moment he leaves the cafe, my head collapses on the table and I could see a blurred picture of my world shattering down. I no more force back my tears and cry like a small child whose favourite toy gets crushed under a truck. I cry and cry and cry until my tear glands have no stock to supply. I look at the glass door and it reflects an image that I refrain from recognising. I was barely myself and the mirror showed nothing but my devastated soul and my sceptic conscience.

No, I wasn’t a deserter. I couldn't hurt him for the world, I had to cause him this pain to protect him from the probable pain that the future holds. For every tear that came out of his eyes, I had cried a hundred nights. I loved him with all the love I had ever endowed within me. I loved him with every cell of mine. I loved him recklessly and madly. But, my love wasn’t selfish enough to ruin his life because of mine. My love couldn't be shallow enough to choose my pleasure at the cost of his pain. My love for him was too passionate to let death fade its essence. My love didn’t want his love to die a painful death like me. Nobody knew the reason of such an obscure end to our beautiful love story.

I wish my medical reports could scream to the world how my last stage leukaemia had already done me more harm than it was needed to qualify death. I wish these reports and the storm they carried within, could magically disappear from my sling bag and also my life; taking away this gigantic weight of misery that was crushing my soul to million little unrecognisable pieces. I wish.

But leaving him with sore, cold red eyes and a devastated soul, killed me million times more than cancer ever could.

And, that’s how we broke up.

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About the Author
Sejal Makwana
A vivid reader and a writer inspired by millions of other writers around. An ambivert at heart, I love poems. A science graduate who is now an aspiring literature student.