She wanted to ruin it all, and write about it. She wanted to write about leaving. About leaving him and giving it all up. She wanted to characterize it as an act of bravery; as an act of freedom. As if she’s doing both of them a favour, mostly her. She wanted to make a sad story out of it. The writer in her wanted to turn it into something beautiful, yet painful. But the truth is it’s not going to be beautiful. It would just be painful, it would just be leaving. It would just be walking away with a heartbroken to a million pieces. And she knew, this time leaving won’t be that easy, it never was.
But she knows it will happen. Sooner or later it will happen. She will leave him. She will tell him goodbye. It will be like the two of them never loved each other. ‘It’s not you, it’s me,’ she will say, ‘you’re better off without me, and in a few years you will thank me for leaving you.’ And she will write about it all. She will write it as if it was an act of resurrection. But for now, she will stay here because she has never felt safer.
She was in his arms as she was thinking all this. Her face buried in his neck. Oh, silly him. He will never know he is holding a ticking time bomb. ‘You know I love you, right?’ his voice woke her up from her thoughts.
She took a deep breath. It was this, it was these little moments that made her want to never leave him. She loved him too much to make him one of her characters. And, for now, she didn’t want to think about it all. She just wanted to be in his arms, feeling peaceful more than ever. ‘This is tomorrow’s problem’ she said to herself, ‘I will let tomorrow’s me worry about this.’
As she was curling up in his arms and kissing his neck before falling asleep, she hoped he won’t let her write a story about her leaving. And, most of all she hoped he won’t let her write a story about him, leaving her.