Chronicles of Love

[2] The Cliff

(A/N: I submitted this story for my English project as a short story, but I want to share this here. Just to warn you guys, this is a sad story. 

Advance Happy Valentines' day everyone! I hope you'll all have a good one. For the dateless ones out there, don't worry, you're not alone; there are many of us here. For those who get dates, well, break a leg on making it last.)

IT WAS AT THE CLIFF, where I first fell in-love and got my heart broken.

Summer of 2015, I decided to go to my favorite place—the Cliff. I'd always liked going there. It had the overview of the city. Every time I was there, it felt as if I were on top of the world. I'd sit on the ledge, looking over the city, my feet dangling in the air.

I parked my car in its usual spot and got out. As soon as I stepped outside, the cool zephyr greeted me. Despite being summer, the air here was cold, pleasant to the skin. When I got to closer to the cliff, I saw a man—standing there, his back to me—in a black suit. I looked at him in bewilderment, asking in my head what he was doing. I heard a muffled sob. As he took a purposeful step forward, that was when I realized what the man was trying to do: he was planning to kill himself and jump off the cliff.

My heart pounded nervously against my chest at the sight. But before he could take another step forward, I shouted, stopping him. I got his attention, and he looked at me, confusion crossing his face.

I dashed towards where he was, and I managed to hold him by the arm, making sure that he won't ever succeed in his plans. He challenged me to give him a good reason to live, and I told him there were many people who wanted to live, like the ones who were dying of cancer and had no choice like him. Then I offered to listen to his problems, reassuring him that I was a stranger, so there was no reason for me to judge him.

To my relief, he listened and backed away from the cliff. Afterwards, I told him my name, and he told me his.

We sat on the ledge, our feet dangling in the air. Then he began to tell me what his problem was: his long-time girlfriend broke up with him.

As he talked and raised his eyes to meet mine, I zeroed in on his appearance. His eyes were startlingly blue; his hair brown and tousled in a way that suited him. He was charismatic, and I was drawn to him at that instant. But at that time, I was in denial. I never really thought of ever showing interest towards a man who'd just gotten his heart broken.

After finishing his story, he said that he'd always thought she was the one. And he assumed that I knew how it felt like to break-up with an ex, but I told him that I never really had any boyfriends.

He seemed surprised by this, and he asked me why. I answered, telling him that I wasn't that beautiful, and the only things that were interesting about me were my height and eyes: I stood 5'9—the height every girl coveted—and my eyes weren't the same color; I had a Heterochromia, my right eye is blue, and the left one is blue-brown. I told him about my insecurities and everything. It was the first time I'd opened up to someone about these things.

He disagreed though. He told me that I was beautiful and assured me that people around me were blind for not seeing that. It was the first time a man had told me I'm beautiful, and I knew he wasn't saying it to cheer me up. I could hear the sincerity in his words and actions.

It was only when the sun had set when we realized that it was late. Then he asked for my number and we bade each other goodbye.

We often meet each other at least twice a week. Sometimes at the cliff, sometimes in the coffee shop, and sometimes in a park. One month of friendship with him bloomed into something. I found myself falling for him. It wasn't hard to love him. He was sweet, charming and funny. What a girl wouldn't give just to have him as a husband.

I did not intend to hide my feelings for him, so I decided to tell him the next time I'd see him.

When the dreadful day came, I couldn't contain my nervousness and excitement. I wanted so badly to know if he feels the same way.

We were both standing at the cliff, looking over the city. He had this unusual glint in his eyes. He said he wanted to tell me something important, and I did the same.

We both debated who would say their part first, but in the end, I won. He gave in.

My heart was pounding against my bchest as he said, "I'm in-love with this girl." He looked me in the eye, and I could see the happiness dancing in them. "She and I have been friends for months." My ears rung at that statement.

I asked myself if it was possible that he'd feel the same way about me. I asked him who she is, not knowing that it was the question I'd regret.

He pulled out his phone from his pocket, and then he clicked something on it. He handed it to me, and I held out my trembling hand to accept it. I was expecting to see my picture, but to my disappointment, it wasn't me.

He began to tell me how beautiful she was, and how he'd met her the day after we talked. He smiled happily at me, the joyful glimmer never leaving his eyes.

My heart broke, but I managed to fake a smile. I told him how happy I was for him in spite of myself. Then he asked me what I was gonna' tell him but I just waved him off, telling him glibly him that it wasn't really that important. I see no point of telling him how much I love him. Even if I did tell him, I'd still be rejected.

I look down at the cliff. This must've been what he'd felt the first time I saw him standing here.

Loving someone who doesn't love you in return is like jumping off a cliff; it kills you. Well, figuratively.

As I stare down the cliff, only one question runs through my head: Should I jump?