The 12th Kiss

❝How Strong is Your Love? ❞ ¾

❝How Strong is Your Love? ❞

Summer 1999

It was the most beautiful summer of John's life. His twenty-first summer where every petal was in its full glory. Like stars, falling from the heaven, soft-butter like flowers of the pink crape myrtle fell into Metilda's hair.

John was dark, at times talkative, sometimes awkward, and most times a star.

Metilda was quiet, shy, sometimes kind, sometimes understanding, and always sincere.

They sat under a tree, in the park, watching the wedding procession from a little distance away. The wedding was so beautiful that Metilda didn't have the guts to intrude. It felt wrong to do so.

So John and Metilda sat, a polite distance between their bodies, to watch everything unfold.

"Have you ever been in love?" John asked, from the corner of his eye he saw Metilda stiffen. The answer was clear as daylight.

"Yes." She bit her lower lip, which was trembling. "I really loved him." Her gaze was averted, it didn't meet his.

"What happened?"

"Sometimes," She held up her hand. And a moment later she joined it with her other hand, an inch of air separating them. "One person can't break all the walls. I tried really hard to get to him. Relentlessly, I kept trying and trying to make him see, to make him understand that he could trust me."

Metilda closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. "You can't break the barrier unless the other person wants you to and he didn't want me. Which really hurt. It hurt so bad. Eventually, I became just like him until you came along..."

John want to weave his fingers through her hand. But it would be too direct, maybe it was too early. Instead, he opted to lean into the tree's rough bark.

"They keep pushing you away because they want you to try harder and when you leave, it devastates them. I saw it in your eyes Metilda. Every time you pushed me away or ignored me for days, your hands would shake whenever you saw me. It's hard to love again, once it's been lost. That what happened to me when I lost my parents. Aunt Rein was the one who put up with my mood swings. One day she forgot to call me, and Metilda I had never felt so scared in my life. I thought what if she gave up on me. What will I do then?"

"I'm glad that you didn't." Metilda whispered. The violinist was playing a broken melody, by the bench. It was his first time attempting the song. She took a deep breath. "I'm glad that you didn't give up on me."

John smiled slightly, before nodding. Black strands of hair strewn carelessly across his forehead. The melody of the violinist was growing stronger.

"Have you ever been in love?" Metilda finally asked, unable to keep it in.

"You mean before you, no. not really. I've liked girls but love-"

The colors of summer rushed to Metilda's face. The simmering sun, the hot humid air, the balminess of the wind must have done its magic. Because John had never seen her look so red.

"Are you okay, Metilda?"

She stopped mid-way a nod. "You just said- I-. John." It was clear, she was a mess.

"I've told you before, Mel. I love you."

It was the first time John had directly said those words to her. Their very first I love you. Metilda was about to open her mouth to reply, but John pressed a hand to her lips. A very bold move.