Another First Love

Not Fated

***

If only I could turn back time . . .

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I've been dwelling on this thought far longer than necessary these past few weeks. The possibility of getting a restart, of going back and changing a few things in my life, of tearing up a few pages from my own 'book of life' and getting the chance to write them again sounds impossible at best but very tempting at the same time.

If only.

A teardrop fell as I go over the polaroids in the black box I've taken from my bottom drawer. We were smiling in most of them and I was even kissing him in one of the photos.

Thanks for the memories, I guess?

But I don't want just the memories, that will never be enough.

I want the person too. And a life with him. I want to spend my weekends lying close to him. To cheer each other up during the busy weekdays. To see him first thing in my mornings. To be kissing in between. I want to get drunk with love and never sober up. To drift off to the sweetest of dreams and never have to wake up.

But the cruel reality shook me off from my high branch and the daydream ends.

My first love, now my fiancé or should I say former fiancé is off to get married to some woman he doesn't love but his parents prefer. A woman who can bear his child and give him a family. And they say life hits you hard where it hurts the most. How can I even begin to argue my case when I am a man marrying their only son? It's a lost cause without even trying to do anything. And all my insecurities just reared their ugly heads at once.

Love is a luxury and I can't afford it.

P'Vee said he doesn't love her. That much I can tell. He said she doesn't love him too. That one is also probably true. He explained that they're only getting married because of their parents. Without love between them. With only their responsibilities and family interests binding them. I told him, I know.

I also know how much is at stake. A business merger, P'Vee's parents demanding children and their company in the brink of bankruptcy. There are other reasons. The list is endless. And the reasonable course of action is obvious.

P'Vee has to get married. And not to me.

He said he was sorry. He said it was out of his control. He said it was forced on him. He cried. He begged for forgiveness. He kneeled. He hanged his head low. He stated a few more of his reasons. I only kept my silence. Whatever words he said that day, I didn't hear.

What's the use? It was all an excuse.

He cried for a long time that day. I didn't. Almost.

I'm too tired. I'm so hurt. I'm utterly broken. And none of it mattered. My feelings don't matter. So I kept them to myself and said what needs to be said. Ask what needs to be asked.

And so with tears, I smiled. With tears, I said it was fine. With tears, I told him I am okay. And with more tears, I agreed it was out of his control and patted him on his back.

Then I ask him not to kneel. I begged him not to call. I plead him to never talk to me again. I asked if it's possible to never be in the same place as him in the future. To never acknowledge me even if we ever meet. And to pretend we never knew each other. To erase all our memories if possible.

And he has just been nodding the whole time. With tears streaming down his face.

I know it's cruel. I need to be cruel.

---

Wiping the wetness on my cheek, I walked out of my room with the black box in my hand. Out in the garden and infront of a freshly dug but shallow hole I dump the whole box and lit a match then let it fell into the hole. Similar to how ancient people do their funerals. They burn the bodies. I am burning our memories. They're dead. I am dead. Inside.

I watched as the box caught fire and when it was burning until the fire ceased and only the ashes remained.

This ends here.

***

A/N:

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04.17.21
SAT