Fiction: New beginnings…

There comes a time in everyone’s life, when they can’t have what their heart truly desires. At such a time, any sane individual would walk away and give up. I did that too. All those years ago, when I realised that Adam would never truly be mine, I decided to walk away and give myself a chance to live my life without him. He didn’t want me to leave, but what could I do? Between my expectations and his commitments, our love quietly slipped out, unnoticed and without protest. If anyone had asked me then, I would have promised them, and myself in the process, that I was sure of what I was doing. I’d have convinced then, without really convincing myself that going away from him was the best thing to do in the circumstances.

That was 8 years ago. In these years, we’d both drifted apart, focused on career, become successful, made money. I had followed his career and his life closely, to the point of obsessively stalking his Facebook profile, refusing to accept suggestions from well-meaning friends that I should perhaps try to talk to him again. I couldn’t possibly do that. I couldn’t possibly reach out to him again. The fear of rejection was too strong. No. Scratch that. Rejection, I could take. What if he ignored me? That is something I couldn’t take. I knew from my passive stalking that he occasionally dated. I also knew he wasn’t married yet. Yet, something stopped me from reaching out.

And then, out of nowhere, I ran into him at the local supermarket yesterday. Pushing the cart along for my monthly groceries, I was busy trying to find my favourite brand of pasta when I literally ran the cart into him. Looking up to apologise, I froze. I couldn’t move. Or speak. The emotions of the past 8 years came rushing back, filling my eyes. Here was the man I’d have given anything for. Here he was in person, in front of me, his face lit up like a Christmas tree.

All I remember of the next 30 mins was billing my purchases and getting to my car, still sane enough to drive. As I got home, the realisation hit me. I had walked away, for the second time, from the man I loved most in life. I had walked away with no words to say, with no explanations. Not even basic pleasantries exchanged. As I dumped the shopping bags and turned to shut the door, I saw him again. At my doorstep. With an unspoken invitation to step into his arms and his life once again. Perhaps, this was how it was meant to be. Perhaps this second lifetime would finally last.