Hearts On The Highrise

Chapter 63 : shared burdens

flashback

Standing on the threshold of my home in Thailand, watching Charlotte fade into the distance, my heart ached with a pain I could scarcely bear. I called out to her, desperate for her to turn back, but she never did. The words I longed to speak caught in my throat, choked by the weight of my pride.

Every fiber of my being screamed for me to run after her, to cast aside my fears and tell her how much I loved her. But in that moment, I was paralyzed by my own insecurities, unable to bridge the chasm that separated us.

As she disappeared from view, a wave of regret washed over me, leaving me hollow and empty. In that moment, I knew that I had let fear and pride rob me of the chance to tell her the truth, and I was left to bear the consequences of my silence.

Alone in the dimly lit kitchen, I sat at the high table, clutching my head in my hands as tears streamed down my cheeks. The empty wine bottle was the silent witness to my despair, its contents unable to numb the pain gnawing at my soul. Each drop seemed to echo the pain in my heart, a futile attempt to drown the memories that haunted me.

In the midst of my anguish, Pichy entered the room, without a word, she came to my side, wrapping her arms around me and gently rubbing my back in comfort.

Pichy gently reached for the half-empty glass of wine in my hand, her expression one of concern as she met my gaze. "Enough, Engfa," she said softly, her tone tinged with worry. "You've had too much already."

Reluctantly, I relinquished the glass, watching as she set it aside before taking a seat beside me. With a sigh, I rested my forehead on my hand, my gaze unfocused as I stared into the void of my thoughts.

With a gentle touch, Pichy turned my chair to face her, ensuring that our eyes met. Lifting my chin with a tender hand, she held my gaze with unwavering intensity. "Engfa," she began softly, "was it Charlotte?"

With a gentle gesture, she brushed away a tear that had escaped from my cheek before meeting my gaze again. "Why didn't you tell me earlier, Engfa?" she asked.

Remaining silent, my gaze distant and lost, I felt Pichy's hand gently cradle my head. "Please, Engfa," she implored, her voice filled with urgency, "for the love of God, talk to me."

"I love her," I finally whispered, the words heavy with emotion. Tears welled up in my eyes, and despite my efforts to hold them back, they spilled over, cascading down my cheeks in silent streams. Pichy envelopped me in a tight embrace, holding me close as I continued, my voice choked with emotion, "I love her so much."

"I know," Pichy whispered softly, as she gently stroked the back of my head. "Why didn't you stop her? Why did you let her go?" she asked.

"I think it's best to leave it at that," I murmured softly, my voice tinged with resignation. "Charlotte's better off without me. I've caused her too much pain."

Pichy gently placed her hand on my shoulder, her voice filled with empathy. "Engfa, you can't give up on love just because you're afraid of hurting someone. Sometimes, the pain we cause is a part of growing. But it's also a chance to learn and become better. Maybe it's time to confront your feelings, not just for Charlotte's sake, but for yours too."

I nodded, but my expression remained distant, as if lost in my own thoughts. "I know what you're saying, Pichy, but it's hard to change. I've always been the one to do things my way, even if it means hurting myself or others in the process."

Pichy sighed, feeling the weight of my stubbornness. "I understand, Engfa, but sometimes we have to let go of our pride and listen to what's best for us and for the people we care about. Maybe it's time to consider a different approach."