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Bitter Sweet

I stared into his intense golden eyes, feeling my eyes prickle with tears, my vision getting blurry.

Every bone, fibre and cell in my body wanted to reach out to him and hug him with all that I could, telling him that I was his.

My hand unconsciously fingered the fringe on my headscarf, making me realise that I could not do that. I was a Muslim and he was not. I was always going to be Muslim and he was never going to be Muslim.

He reached out, his voice breaking as he said my name, causing my heart to break into a million tiny pieces. But as he touched me, I pulled away as if his touch burned my skin. I didn't miss the hurt that flashed through his eyes that now began to look watery.

The tears were streaming down my face in a constant flow, my breath hitching every time his sunset golden eyes met my dark black eyes, my heart breaking every time a silent tear escaped his eyes, my heart stopping every time he looked at me in that special way- the way that was reserved for just me alone.

My heart felt like it was splitting in two, one part saying to forget everything else and just be with him. It was so simple. And the other part, telling me, yelling at me to look at the bigger picture and stay head strong with my religion.

I knew what I wanted to choose- him. But I also knew what I should choose- my religion.
I took a deep breath, trying to ease myself from effect he had on me. The way he caused my heart to halt, my mind to think a thousand thoughts, and the explosion of butterflies in my stomach every time I was around him.

This was love.

And I was about to give it up.