“True love does not have happy endings. It just has happy beginnings.”
It did have a happy beginning. But then things started going wrong. The blue skies with white fluffy clouds turned a cumbersome gray. The chirping parrots turned into screeching seagulls. He had hurt her and she was beyond doubt hurting. The burden of that knowledge weighed him down, choked every bit of emotion out of him, till all he could feel was a raw pain.
Everywhere he looked, he found himself staring into her black eyes. Black pearls, he always associated her eyes with black pearls. Beautiful and rare black pearls that would take divers to the depth of a turbulent ocean and emerge feeling as if they owned the world. Her eyes were full of life. Sparkling and clear. But the eyes that haunted him now were different. They were lifeless. Just like the thick grey murky water which was left behind after dousing a raging fire with a bucket of ice cold water. Gray ash mixed with water turning it to an almost black, still and lifeless.
He had willed her to display any emotion. Even wrath and hatred would have sufficed. But ironically what gripped his heart was the complete lack of emotion when she had looked at him that one last time. That was his punishment. One he could not endure.
It was still dark outside, but dawn would break in soon. The first ray slicing through the thick black like a flashlight belonging to a search party, hunting in the dark for their escaped convict. The light would find him and suddenly all lights in heaven would glow bright, flooding the area around him with daylight. They had found the guilty and now wanted the entire world to take a bloody good look at him.
He walked towards her house. His feet unable to carry the burden of his body, his heart making up for the lost momentum. His eyes raising themselves towards the window, they knew would be shut, yet willing them to open some locked up hope. Why was he going to her house? What did he have to say? Everything that had to be said had anyways always been left unspoken and that which did not need saying had been made explicitly clear. He walked to her door and took a deep breath. The fresh air spreading through his body like sweet poison, reminding him once again of the guilt which he would never forget.
He stood there for a complete minute facing the solid wood of the door. The barrier that now separated him from her. He looked down at the ends of his shoes, they were already beckoning him to move. He stared at the door one last time and then turned away and walked. Once again, leaving that which needed to be said, unsaid.
She watched from the window as he walked down the path, the winter winds blowing dried leaves in his way. The early fog swirled around him. He walked without looking back; he seemed in a hurry to get away. She watched the distance grow between them as the horizon swallowed him in lazy bites.