[3] how did we end up here ;; nh

44 » His Catch 22

◊ Niall ◊

Dublin, Ireland, 23 October 2023

Tomorrow is the day.

I have asked for her parents' blessings, I have talked to my parents.

There are times when I still question my decision; wondering if this is truly what I want, if I am genuinely ready to commit to protect something so fragile yet so profound. Doubt often lingers, quietly settling over me like a veil of mist. And yet, in the silence of my worst nights, I find myself calling her name. That's how I know she's the one.

The moment she closed her eyes and tried to leave the world, I knew with a sudden, aching clarity; I could never bear to lose here. Not at that time. Not now. Not ever.

There was a time when I was a complete mess, a selfish version of myself I'm not proud of. And sometimes, I'm still afraid that part of me hasn't entirely disappeared. That I might, perhaps, slip, revert, and ruin something good — I am so fucking afraid of what I could have been — cheating on her.

Damn.

I slept with that random girl I met back at the pub when we fought in New York City.

How could she even forgive myself for that?

As much as I know she is deeply in love with me, how can she's in love with a pathetic jerk, though? How can she stay to wait for me — amidst the fact that she dated Calum freaking Hood, but I know, I can see it through her delicate eyes that she's still there.

Her love for me is still there.

Unlike what Anne has done to me; what she taught me that love comes with a price — despite I changed, I need to pay my karma for... well, cheating on her. She didn't seem to care about how many times I have reassured her that I was the new version of myself — that I still needed to pay my karma, that love with her always comes with shouting doors and violences. Nothing else.

Then there is Avrillia Zara.

To remember how I was such a pain in the ass, to kiss her like a fucking promise — like she is already mine, then fucked another girl right after we slept that night, and how she's still forgiving me is so fucking unhinged. I wouldn't forgive myself if I were her, to be blunt. With her, love comes with silent, she doesn't need to speak it out loud that I have hurt her — which I know, I have thrown her to the deepest part of the ocean and she is drowned there. She can't get away with the pain I've painted in her. And yet, her love is unrelentingly there for me.

She waits.

She waits until I can completely get over Anne.

She waits for something she doesn't know how long.

And I knew it so damn well.

I knew it when her arm looped around my neck and her heels lifted slightly, when she hugged me so warmly—even though she knew I had hurt her, because that night—in Jakarta, I let her go for Calum.

I knew exactly what she wanted. And I knew exactly what should have come out of my mouth. Not the stupid words telling her to go with Calum. I still remember how she looked at me in disbelief when I said, "And if you think that you'd be happy with Cal, then be it. Go on a date with him once you're at the NYC."

And when she replied it with, "Okay," I knew that that night, in Bogor, she wanted me. She wanted me to stop her from going with Calum. I had that authority that night.

And I—this fucking idiot—destroyed it. Stupid, right? I had my chances crystal clear and I fucked everything up because I was too scared of myself. I was too scared to hurt her. I was too pragmatic.