A closer look into different moments before, during, and after a break-up - moments that we usually repress, not realizing how much we can grow from these experiences if we just take time to process them.
Before he opened the door, he took a deep breath and braced himself.
The room was dark and empty, quite humid on a monsoon season. The buzz of the cars passing by floated in the air, waiting for the storm to come. He went in and slowly closed the door, knowing that it's going to be the last time that he's spending the night in this familiar room.
He slowly walked towards the bedroom where the dimly lit lamp offered an instant but fleeting comfort. He saw him sitting by the window, looking at the starless sky, and smoking his nth cigarette for the night. Again, he braced himself for the worst.
He sat beside him by the window and took out his cigarettes. He's been craving for a smoke the whole day but tried his best to push back the urge so he can savor this moment. This final moment when he can share deep puffs with him in silence.
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They just sat there for a long time, acknowledging each other in the shadows. The quiet hum of the AC loomed above them as they stared outside, looking for something that can distract them from the heaviness in their chests.
He will always choose a slow-burn death than a quick and painful one. The masochist in him. So he just sat there, recalling all the madness, reminiscing about the good moments, and trying his best to accept his fate, their fate.
"I'm sorry."
That's all it took. He felt the dam slowly bursting. He suddenly had this urge to break down, to cry his heart and lungs out, to lash out and release all the pent up anger and guilt. But he still kept himself together and just let the tears start flowing. He felt the warmth of his tears slowly creep across his cheeks and he subtly wiped them away every time he puffed from his cigarette. He felt he was going to implode so he took a long deep breath and tried to control it.
"I'm sorry."
Now it had more gravity, the way he said it. He wanted him to look him in the eyes. He wanted to feel his wrath. He wanted him to hurt him back and just let it all loose. Because that's what he deserved. But he just took a deep breath, looked at him as he took his last puff, and threw his cigarette out of the window. And again, they were silent.
"I'm sorry."
It's the kind of apology that encompasses all the defeat and helplessness he felt. There was nothing left to say and he knew that. He just wanted to break the ice. But still, the cold pierced through. The lack of words, he realized, already said a lot of things. And with this realization, he knew it was really over.
He stood up and threw his cigarette out of the window too. He gave one final look at him, studied his face for the last time. There were blank eyes where there used to be transparent windows to his current state of mind. There was a darkness where there used to be an aura of optimism. There were contemptuous pursed lips where there used to be an infinite source of affection, both in words and intimacy. He didn't look like the guy he fell in love with anymore. And that broke him into a million pieces. Because he knew it was his fault.
One last look, one last tear before he walked away. He was trudging towards the door when he felt him grab his arm. It felt like he didn't want him to go, but it also wasn't as forceful so he can still pull away if he chooses to. They both stood there for a while, waiting. He knew that whatever he does can make or break this.
Before he closed the door behind him, he took a deep breath and braced himself.
"I'm sorry", he whispered one last time and walked away.
